The hammering had taken fifty-nine days. His lord father agreed with you, said a voice at her elbow. He'd had one. When she got to the part where she threw Joffrey's sword into the middle of the Trident, Renly Baratheon began to laugh.
Lord Tywin unrolled the leather, smoothing it flat. He was a tiny thing, wrinkled and hairless, shrunken beneath the weight of a hundred years so his maester's collar with its links of many metals hung loose about his throat. e kittens with claws like needles, ladies' cats all combed and trusting, ragged shadows prowling the midden heaps. He wondered who she had been, what she had looked like, why his father had left her.
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