Our enemies hold the Twins and Moat Cailin. Yet in its own way, death is the most natural thing of all, Lord Eddard. The bells in his hair will sing his coming, and the milk men in the stone tents will fear his name. Over there, sweet princess, he whispered, there is the khal himself.
How many times must I tell you to hold your tongue, woman? Cersei's face was a study in contempt. Littlefinger groaned in dismay. And whose fault is that, sweet sister? Bran studied the ledge. Tom looked apprehensive.
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