He ought never have left. He grabbed the little man under the arms, hoisted him up in the air, and spun him around in a circle. At sixteen, he was the youngest rider on the field, yet he had unhorsed three knights of the Kingsguard that morning in his first three jousts. I'm looking for my brother.
If you lose, there is no hope for any of us. Catelyn knelt and took her father's hand in hers. His brother wore grey chainmail over bleached leathers, sword and dagger at his waist, a fur-trimmed cloak across his shoulders. Here, let me show you something.
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