Inside, the fire crackled, and the common room was filled by the sounds of chewing, and Willow smacking children with her spoon. When she's not off hawking with Janna Fossoway and Merry Crane, she's playing come-into-my-castle with that little Bulwer girl. Rosey was her daughter, fifteen and freshly flowered. It was a wonder she had come this far.
There was ice underfoot, and broken stones just waiting to turn an ankle, and the wind was howling fiercely. A swordsman should be as good as his sword. The maester combed his fingers through his hair, dribbling globs of porridge on the floor. Cersei called them old.
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