Her handmaid Irri and the young archers of her khas were fluid as centaurs, but Viserys still struggled with the short stirrups and the flat saddle. It was the pale one, its scales the color of butter cream, veined with whorls of gold and bronze, and Dany could feel the heat of it. I was ever a friend to your sister Lysa, Varys knows that. Her prince loved her.
A GAME OF THRONES 673He reached for his wine, and considered for a moment as he sipped. Stark had offered it to him in an excess of Night's Watch gallantry, no doubt expecting him to graciously decline. The Eyrie is high and lonely, and it was ever her husband's place, not hers. He stood there beside the sentinel, longsword in hand, his cloak billowing behind him as the wind came up, outlined nobly against the stars for all to see.
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