Smiling, he plucked up the dagger and offered it to Ned, hilt first. I'd do the same. It did not seem like home this time. Stone kings looked down on her from their thrones, their faces chipped and stained, even their names lost in the mists of time.
Even in the wolfswood, you never found more than two or three of the white trees growing together; a grove of nine was unheard of. Ser Jaime lost a hundred golden dragons, the queen lost an emerald pendant, and I lost my knife. This one belongs to me. Yes, Doreah agreed, I heard her too.
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