One was Sansa’s age, with long golden curls; theother perhaps fteen, sandy-haired, with a wisp of a mustache andthe emerald-green eyes of the queen.

Lancel

“Your Grace,”one was saying, almost in tears

, and it was illfortune to look on the face of death.

In the pale dawn light, the young knight looked as though hewere sleeping. He had not been handsome, but death had smoothedhis rough-hewn features and the silent sisters had dressed him in hisbest velvet tunic

A woodenknight, all painted up, every joint pegged separate and xed withstrings, so you could make him ght.

Pretty littletalking girl, you believe that, you’re empty-headed as a bird fortrue.

“No one could withstand him,”she managed at last, proud of herself. It was no lie.Sandor Clegane stopped suddenly in the middle of a dark andempty eld. She had no choice but to stop beside him. “Some septatrained you well. You’re like one of those birds from the SummerIsles, aren’t you? A pretty little talking bird, repeating all the prettylittle words they taught you to recite.”“That’s unkind.” Sansa could feel her heart uttering in her chest.“You’re frightening me. I want to go now.”

The feastwas over, and the beautiful dream had ended with it.

Lannister stumbled and fell.

She wasdrunk on the magic of the night, giddy with glamour, swept awayby beauties she had dreamt of all her life and never dared hope toknow.

He was too beautiful to hate.

“Your mother was my queen of beauty once,” the man saidquietly. His breath smelled of mint. “You have her hair.” His ngersbrushed against her cheek as he stroked one auburn lock

When Sansa nally looked up, a man was standing over her,staring. He was short, with a pointed beard and a silver streak in hishair, almost as old as her father. “You must be one of herdaughters,” he said to her. He had grey-green eyes that did notsmile when his mouth did. “You have the Tully look.”

ansa had neverseen anyone so beautiful. His plate was intricately fashioned andenameled as a bouquet of a thousand dierent owers, and hissnow-white stallion was draped in a blanket of red and white roses.

ansa had almostforgotten about Jeyne.

When LordRenly climbed to his feet, the commons cheered wildly, for KingRobert’s handsome young brother was a great favorite. He handedthe broken tine to his conqueror with a gracious bow. The Houndsnorted and tossed the broken antler into the crowd, where thecommons began to punch and claw over the little bit of gold, untilLord Renly walked out among them and restored the peace.

but Sansa sat with her hands foldedin her lap, watching with a strange fascination. She had never seena man die before. She ought to be crying too, she thought, but thetears would not come. Perhaps she had used up all her tears forLady and Bran. It would be dierent if it had been Jory or SerRodrik or Father, she told herself.

His cloak was blue, the color of thesky on a clear summer’s day, trimmed with a border of crescentmoons, but as his blood seeped into it, the cloth darkened and themoons turned red, one by one.

He overthrew Ser Andar Royce

but when shesaw young Lord Beric Dondarrion, with his hair like red gold andhis black shield slashed by lightning, she pronounced herself willingto marry him on the instant.

Jeyne Poole confessed herself frightened by the look of JalabharXho, an exile prince from the Summer Isles who wore a cape ofgreen and scarlet feathers over skin as dark as night,

hetwins Ser Horas and Ser Hobber, whose shields displayed the grapecluster sigil of the Redwynes,

Bryce

She did not know what was more satisfying: the sound of a dozenswords drawn as one or the look on Tyrion Lannister’s face.

He plans totake a new wife on his ninetieth name day, and has asked your lordfather to honor the wedding with his presence.”

and found Catelyn. He looked at her for a moment,puzzled. She turned her face away, but too late. The dwarf wassmiling. “Lady Stark, what an unexpected pleasure,” he said. “I wassorry to miss you at Winterfell.”

And may he choke on it, Catelyn thought, but it was Branshe saw choking, drowning on his own blood.

my lord of Lannister

Another singer had once bedded a girl her brother fancied;

“As you say, my lady,” Ser Rodrik agreed. It was only when shelaughed that he realized what he’d done. “The old courtesies diehard, my—my daughter.” He tried to tug on his missing whiskers,and sighed with exasperation

It must not come to war, Catelyn thoughtfervently. They must not let it.

irascible Lord Frey

LadyWhent, last of her line, who dwelt with her ghosts in the cavernousvaults of Harrenhal;

he Blackwoods and the Brackens, everenemies, whose quarrels her father was obliged to settle;

Catelyn could just make out the muddycrossing where the two great roads met.The crossroads gave her pause

Catelyn envied him that; she had come to fearso much

It is only water, Ser Rodrik,” Catelyn replied. Her hair hung wetand heavy, a loose strand stuck to her forehead, and she couldimagine how ragged and wild she must look, but for once she didnot care.

“The bald one? No, not him. He never said no word, just glared atme, like I was some raper who done for his daughter.”“Mind your lthy tongue,” the master said. “This is the King’sown Hand.” The boy lowered his eyes. “A smart boy, but stubborn.

The master called over a tall lad about Robb’s age, his arms andchest corded with muscle.

The Knight of Flowersbought all his armor here, Tobho boasted, and many high lords, theones who knew ne steel, and even Lord Renly

cross the fabric was blazoned a night skyslashed with purple lightning. “Make way for Lord Beric!” the ridershouted. “Make way for Lord Beric!” And close behind came theyoung lord himself, a dashing gure on a black courser, with red-gold hair and a black satin cloak dusted with stars. “Here to ght inthe Hand’s tourney, my lord?” a guardsman called out to him. “Hereto win the Hand’s tourney,” Lord Beric shouted back as the crowdcheered.

emptying a bucket ofslops on the heads of the combatants

Inside was a miniature painted in thevivid Myrish style, of a lovely young girl with doe’s eyes and acascade of soft brown hair. Renly had seemed anxious to know if thegirl reminded him of anyone, and when Ned had no answer but ashrug, he had seemed disappointed. The maid was Loras Tyrell’ssister Margaery, he’d confessed, but there were those who said shelooked like Lyanna. “No,” Ned had told him, bemused. Could it bethat Lord Renly, who looked so like a young Robert, had conceiveda passion for a girl he fancied to be a young Lyanna? That struckhim as more than passing queer.

but Stannis was a dierent sort of man; a bare yearyounger than the king, yet utterly unlike him, stern, humorless,unforgiving, grim in his sense of duty.

Ned wished he were here now, to winkle the truth out ofthis damnable book.

Stannis ever got that ugly daughter of his. He goes to his marriagebed like a man marching to a battleeld, with a grim look in hiseyes and a determination to do his duty.”

Fat and awkward and frightened he might be, but Samwell Tarlywas no fool. One night he visited Jon in his cell. “I don’t know whatyou did,” he said, “but I know you did it.” He looked away shyly.“I’ve never had a friend before.”“We’re not friends,” Jon said. He put a hand on Sam’s broadshoulder. “We’re brothers.”

Hours later, as the castle slept, three of them paid a call on hiscell. Grenn held his arms while Pyp sat on his legs. Jon could hearRast’s rapid breathing as Ghost leapt onto his chest. The direwolf’seyes burned red as embers as his teeth nipped lightly at the soft skinof the boy’s throat, just enough to draw blood. “Remember, weknow where you sleep,” Jon said softly.

he reached inside thedeer, ripped out its heart, and held it in his st, red and dripping—“or this.”

“If you do not, then on the morrow we shall have a hunt, andsomewhere in these woods your horse will stumble, and you will bethrown from the saddle to die ... or so I will tell your mother.

“two men came tothe castle, warlocks from Qarth with white skin and blue lips.

nother dressed him in his mother’sclothing and paraded him through the bailey to shame him intovalor.

And then I nd myself in front of the door tothe crypts. It’s black inside, and I can see the steps spiraling down.Somehow I know I have to go down there, but I don’t want to. I’m

Most nights it’s my father, but sometimes it’sRobb instead, or my little sister Arya, or my uncle.”

It was Ghost who knew what to do. Silent as shadow, the paledirewolf moved closer and began to lick the warm tears o SamwellTarly’s face. The fat boy cried out, startled ... and somehow, in aheartbeat, his sobs turned to laughter.

He sat down on the frost-coveredground and began to cry, huge choking sobs that made his wholebody shake.

“It must have been warmer where you come from.”

He could think here, and hefound himself thinking of Samwell Tarly ... and, oddly, of TyrionLannister. He wondered what Tyrion would have made of the fatboy. Most men would rather deny a hard truth than face it, the dwarfhad told him, grinning. The world was full of cravens whopretended to be heroes; it took a queer sort of courage to admit tocowardice as Samwell Tarly had.

“I would not,” Grenn insisted. “I’d run away faster than you.” Hestopped suddenly, scowling when he saw Pyp’s grin and realizedwhat he’d just said.

“You don’t want to know what his mother calls him.”

“My name is Samwell Tarly, of Horn ...” He stopped andlicked his lips. “I mean, I was of Horn Hill, until I ... left. I’ve cometo take the black. My father is Lord Randyll, a bannerman to theTyrells of Highgarden. I used to be his heir, only ...” His voicetrailed o

JON

Littlenger ngered his small pointed beard. “You are slow tolearn, Lord Eddard. Distrusting me was the wisest thing you’ve donesince you climbed down o your horse.”

“Lord Petyr,” Ned called after him. “I ... am grateful for yourhelp. Perhaps I was wrong to distrust you.”

, or lie with a woman, or hold his own sonin his arms.

“Father, will Bran come and live with us now?”“Not for a long time, sweet one,” he told her. “He needs to win hisstrength back.”Arya bit her lip. “What will Bran do when he’s of age?”Ned knelt beside her. “He has years to nd that answer, Arya. Fornow, it is enough to know that he will live.” The night the bird hadcome from Winterfell, Eddard Stark had taken the girls to the castlegodswood, an acre of elm and alder and black cottonwoodoverlooking the river. The heart tree there was a great oak, its

Yes, Ned thought as the door swung shut, but whom?

“Dark wings, dark words,” Ned murmured. It was a proverb OldNan had taught him as a boy.

“I have heard it said that poison is a woman’s weapon.”Pycelle stroked his beard thoughtfully. “It is said. Women,cravens ... and eunuchs.” He cleared his throat and spat a thick globof phlegm onto the rushes. Above them, a raven cawed loudly in therookery. “The Lord Varys was born a slave in Lys, did you know?Put not your trust in spiders, my lord.”

“An adventure,” Bran repeated wistfully. He heard his brothersob. The room was so dark he could not see the tears on Robb’s face,so he reached out and found his hand. Their ngers twined together.

Yes,” Robb said with such hope in his voice that Bran knew hewas hearing his brother and not just Robb the Lord. “Mother will behome soon. Maybe we can ride out to meet her when she comes.Wouldn’t that surprise her, to see you ahorse?” Even in the darkroom, Bran could feel his brother’s smile. “And afterward, we’ll ridenorth to see the Wall. We won’t even tell Jon we’re coming, we’lljust be there one day, you and me. It will be an adventure.”

Robb carried Branup to bed himself. Grey Wind led the way, and Summer came closebehind. His brother was strong for his age, and Bran was as light asa bundle of rags, but the stairs were steep and dark, and Robb wasbreathing hard by the time they reached the top.He put Bran into bed, covered him with blankets, and blew outthe candle. For a time Robb sat beside him in the dark. Bran wanted

. “The children will help him,” heblurted, “the children of the forest!”

“My uncle is not dead,” Robb Stark said loudly, anger in his tones.He rose from the bench and laid his hand on the hilt of his sword.“Do you hear me? My uncle is not dead!” His voice rang against thestone walls, and Bran was suddenly afraid.

Perhaps once theyhad been lions, but now they were twisted and grotesque. Brancould hear them whispering to each other in soft stone voicesterrible to hear.

Robb turned to themuncertainly. “I have had rooms prepared, and you’ll nd no lack ofhot water to wash o the dust of the road. I hope you will honor usat table tonight.” He spoke the words so awkwardly that even Brantook note; it was a speech he had learned, not words from the heart,but the black brothers thanked him all the same.

Robb had been holding his breath. He let it out with a sigh andcalled, “Grey Wind.”

“Give this to your saddler. He willprovide the rest.”

Bran was uncomfortably aware of Tyrion Lannister’s eyes. Onewas black and one was green,

“Now these were the days before the Andals came, and longbefore the women ed across the narrow sea from the cities of theRhoyne, and the hundred kingdoms of those times were thekingdoms of the First Men, who had taken these lands from thechildren of the forest. Yet here and there in the fastness of thewoods the children still lived in their wooden cities and hollow hills,and the faces in the trees kept watch. So as cold and death lled theearth, the last hero determined to seek out the children, in the hopesthat their ancient magics could win back what the armies of menhad lost. He set out into the dead lands with a sword, a horse, a dog,and a dozen companions. For years he searched, until he despairedof ever nding the children of the forest in their secret cities. Oneby one his friends died, and his horse, and nally even his dog, andhis sword froze so hard the blade snapped when he tried to use it.And the Others smelled the hot blood in him, and came silent on histrail, stalking him with packs of pale white spiders big as hounds—”

“Oh, my sweet summer child,” Old Nan said quietly

Whenever he was awaymore than a day, Rickon would cry and ask Bran if Robb was evercoming back.

He was Robb the Lord now, or trying to be.

They had all left him, his father and his motherand his sisters and even his bastard brother Jon. His father hadpromised he would ride a real horse to King’s Landing, but they’dgone without him. Maester Luwin had sent a bird after Lord Eddardwith a message, and another to Mother and a third to Jon on theWall, but there had been no answers. “Ofttimes the birds are lost,child,” the maester had told him. “There’s many a mile and many ahawk between here and King’s Landing, the message may not havereached them.” Yet to Bran it felt as if they had all died while hehad slept ... or perhaps Bran had died, and they had forgotten him.

His eighth name day had come and gone. He wasalmost a man grown now, too old to cry.

He could hear his brother’sbreathless laughter as Rickon dashed across the hard-packed earthon little baby legs

Grey Wind was there rst, loping ahead to cut him o, until Rickonsaw him, screamed in delight, and went pelting o in anotherdirection. Shaggydog ran at his heels, spinning and snapping if theother wolves came too close. His fur had darkened until he was allblack, and his eyes were green re. Bran’s Summer came last. Hewas silver and smoke, with eyes of yellow gold that saw all therewas to see. Smaller than Grey Wind, and more wary. Bran thoughthe was the smartest of the litter.

It was her fourteenth name day.

turn her over, she put a hand on his chest. “No,” she said. “Thisnight I would look on your face.”There is no privacy in the heart of the khalasar. Dany felt the eyeson her as she undressed him, heard the soft voices as she did thethings that Doreah had told her to do. It was nothing to her. Wasshe not khaleesi? His were the only eyes that mattered, and whenshe mounted him she saw something there that she had never seenbefore. She rode him as ercely as ever she had ridden her silver,and when the moment of his pleasure came, Khal Drogo called outher name.They were on the far side of the Dothraki sea when Jhiquibrushed the soft swell of Dany’s stomach with her ngers and said,“Khaleesi, you are with child.”“I know,” Dany told her.

. One day the other moon will kiss the sun too

ast Targaryen dragons had died nomore than a century and a half ago, during the reign of Aegon III,who was called the Dragonbane

. In her mind’s eye theyburned with a thousand lights, a re blazing in every window. Inher mind’s eye, all the doors were red.

he common people pray for rain, healthy children, and asummer that never ends,” Ser Jorah told her. “It is no matter tothem if the high lords play their game of thrones, so long as they areleft in peace.” He gave a shrug. “They never are.”

Among the Dothraki,the man who does not ride was no man at all, the lowest of the low,without honor or pride. “Let everyone see him as he is.”

She began to ndpleasure even in her nights, and if she still cried out when Drogotook her, it was not always in pain.

There weregreat elk in that wood, and spotted tigers, and lemurs with silver furand huge purple eyes,

Drogo wouldcome to her tent and wake her in the dark, to ride her as relentlesslyas he rode his stallion. He always took her from behind, Dothrakifashion, for which Dany was grateful; that way her lord husbandcould not see the tears that wet her face, and she could use herpillow to mue her cries of pain. When he was done, he wouldclose his eyes and begin to snore softly and Dany would lie besidehim, her body bruised and sore, hurting too much for sleep.

Dany realized that she did not want to listen to any of herbrother’s complaints right now. The day was too perfect. The skywas a deep blue, and high above them a hunting hawk circled. Thegrass sea swayed and sighed with each breath of wind, the air waswarm on her face, and Dany felt at peace. She would not let Viserysspoil it.

“I am your dancing master.”

I can be strong too. I can be as strong as Robb.”

Here and now, with winter soon upon us, that is adierent matter. It is time to begin growing up.”“I will,” Arya vowed. She had never loved him so much as she didin that instant. “

. In winter, we mustprotect one another, keep each other warm, share our strengths. Soif you must hate, Arya, hate those who would truly do us harm.Septa Mordane is a good woman, and Sansa ... Sansa is your sister.You may be as dierent as the sun and the moon, but the sameblood ows through both your hearts. You need her, as she needsyou ... and I need both of you, gods help me.”He sounded so tired that it made Arya sad. “I don’t hate Sansa,”she told him. “Not truly.” It was only half a lie.

Suddenly her father’s arms were around her. He held her gently asshe turned to him and sobbed against his chest. “No, sweet one,” hemurmured. “Grieve for your friend, but never blame yourself. Youdid not kill the butcher’s boy. That murder lies at the Hound’s door,him and the cruel woman he serves.”

Fat Tom was knocking on her door. “Arya girl, what’s wrong?” hecalled out. “You in there?”“No!” she shouted. The knocking stopped. A moment later sheheard him going away. Fat Tom was always easy to fool.

Arya nally felt safe enough to cry.

“He was my friend,” Arya whispered into her plate,

determined not to cry.

. Tyrion had heard thatelsewhere along the Wall, between the three fortresses, thewildwood had come creeping back over the decades, that there wereplaces where grey-green sentinels and pale white weirwoods hadtaken root in the shadow of the Wall itself,

“Friend.”

“Most of my kin arebastards,

Help him, Tyrion.”

“Tell Robb that I’m going to command the Night’s Watch andkeep him safe, so he might as well take up needlework with the girlsand have Mikken melt down his sword for horseshoes.”“Your brother is bigger than me,” Tyrion said with a laugh. “Idecline to deliver any message that might get me killed.”“Rickon will ask when I’m coming home. Try to explain whereI’ve gone, if you can. Tell him he can have all my things while I’maway, he’ll like that.”People seemed to be asking a great deal of him today, TyrionLannister thought. “You could put all this in a letter, you know.”“Rickon can’t read yet. Bran ...”

“I know.” Jon sounded strangely sad.

“The watch commander tells me I must walk, to keep my bloodfrom freezing, but he never said how fast.”

The Royce boy

You might send youngSnow. He would be glad for a chance to see his brothers.”

Even his raven joined in, cawing loudly from abovethe window. “Duel! Duel! Duel!”

He hopped up on his chair and began poking at Thorne’schest with the tiny fork.

“War?” The fear was plain on Catelyn’s face.“It will not come to that,”

I have found you more than a friend. I have found a brother I’dthought lost.”

“As you say, my lord.” Catelyn lifted her face, and Ned kissed her.Her maimed ngers clutched against his back with a desperatestrength, as if to hold him safe forever in the shelter of her arms

You would be the last man I would willingly include in anyparty, Lord Baelish.”

The accusation is treason either way. Accuse the kingand you will dance with Ilyn Payne before the words are out of yourmouth.

Whatwas it that Jon had said when they found the pups in the snow?Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord. And he hadkilled Sansa’s, and for what? Was it guilt he was feeling? Or fear? Ifthe gods had sent these wolves, what folly had he done?

Inside, Catelyn was waiting. She cried out when she saw him, ranto him, and embraced him ercely.“My lady,” Ned whispered in wonderment.

“Your wife is inside,” Littlenger said.It was the nal insult. “Brandon was too kind to you,” Ned said ashe slammed the small man back against a wall and shoved hisdagger up under the little pointed chin beard.

He had only to look at Sansa’s faceto feel the rage twisting inside him once again. The last fortnight oftheir journey had been a misery. Sansa blamed Arya and told herthat it should have been Nymeria who died. And Arya was lost aftershe heard what had happened to her butcher’s boy. Sansa criedherself to sleep, Arya brooded silently all day long, and EddardStark dreamed of a frozen hell reserved for the Starks of Winterfell.

Of late I’ve had to turn to the Faith. TheHigh Septon haggles worse than a Dornish shmonger.”

Renly Baratheon laughed alou

“Here in the south, they say you are all made of ice, and meltwhen you ride below the Neck.”“I do not plan on melting soon, Lord Baelish. You may count onit.” Ned moved to the council table and said, “Maester Pycelle, Itrust you are well.”

“That was a grievous error, Lord Snow,” he said at last in theacid tones of an enemy.

“I’ll take that wager, Ser Alliser,” Jon said. “I’d love to see Ghostjuggle.”

Jon smiled at him. “I’m sorry about your wrist. Robb used thesame move on me once, only with a wooden blade. It hurt likeseven hells, but yours must be worse. Look, if you want, I can showyou how to defend that.”

Jon ran down the stairs, a smile on his face and Robb’s letter inhis hand. “My brother is going to live,” he told the guards. Theyexchanged a look. He ran back to the common hall, where he foundTyrion Lannister just nishing his meal. He grabbed the little manunder the arms, hoisted him up in the air, and spun him around in acircle. “Bran is going to live!” he whooped. Lannister looked startled.Jon put him down and thrust the paper into his hands. “Here, readit,” he said.

He realized he was crying.And then, through the tears, he found the sense in the words, andraised his head. “He woke up,” he said. “The gods gave him back.”“Crippled,” Mormont said. “I’m sorry, boy. Read the rest of theletter.”He looked at the words, but they didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.Bran was going to live. “My brother is going to live,” he toldMormont. The Lord Commander shook his head, gathered up a

kernels of corn. “I amtold you can read.” He shook the raven o,

Jon scarcely heard him. He brushed o Tyrion’s hand and strodeacross the hall. He was running by the time he hit the doors. Heraced to the Commander’s Keep, dashing through drifts of old snow.When the guards passed him, he took the tower steps two at a time.By the time he burst into the presence of the Lord Commander, hisboots were soaked and Jon was wild-eyed and panting. “Bran,” hesaid. “What does it say about Bran?”

His name day had come and gone, unremarked, afortnight past.

Once Castle Blackhad housed ve thousand ghting men with all their horses andservants and weapons. Now it was home to a tenth that number,and parts of it were falling into ruin.

nd west and vanishing in the far distance, immense and unbroken.This is the end of the world, it seemed to say

ou leave them nothing. You shame them.Does that make you proud?

In his dreams,she was beautiful, and highborn, and her eyes were kind.

little Rickon, bright eyes shining ashe begged for a sweet; Robb, his rival and best friend and constantcompanion; Bran, stubborn and curious, always wanting to followand join in whatever Jon and Robb were doing. He missed the girlstoo, even Sansa, who never called him anything but “my halfbrother” since she was old enough to understand what bastardmeant. And Arya ... he missed her even more than Robb, skinnylittle thing that she was, all scraped knees and tangled hair and tornclothes, so erce and willful. Arya never seemed to t, no more thanhe had ... yet she could always make Jon smile. He would giveanything to be with her now, to muss up her hair once more andwatch her make a face, to hear her nish a sentence with him.

As he watched his uncle lead his horse into the tunnel, Jon hadremembered the things that Tyrion Lannister told him on thekingsroad, and in his mind’s eye he saw Ben Stark lying dead, hisblood red on the snow. The thought made him sick. What was hebecoming? Afterward he sought out Ghost in the loneliness of hiscell, and buried his face in his thick white fur.

on wondered if hisfather had known what the Wall would be like. He must have, hethought; that only made it hurt the worse.

“Tyrion Lannister.”

Old sweet friends shouldnever hesitate to rely upon each other.

and he had grown into a small man, an inch ortwo shorter than Catelyn, slender and quick, with the sharp features

Then she thought, Moreo. The Tyroshi knew who they were andwhere they were, damn him.

When his brother Robb burst into the room, breathless from hisdash up the tower steps, the direwolf was licking Bran’s face. Branlooked up calmly. “His name is Summer,” he said.

It had three eyes, and the third eye was full of a terribleknowledge.

Over them both loomed a giant in armor madeof stone, but when he opened his visor, there was nothing inside butdarkness and thick black blood

A storm was gathering ahead of them, a vast dark roaring lashed bylightning, but somehow they could not see it.

When it felt Bran watching, it liftedits eyes from the still waters and stared back at him knowingly.

The Hound’s eyes seemed to glitter through the steel of thathideous dog’s-head helm. “He ran.” He looked at Ned’s face andlaughed. “But not very fast.”

When it was over, he said, “Choose four men and have them takethe body north. Bury her at Winterfell.”“All that way?” Jory said, astonished.“All that way,” Ned armed. “The Lannister woman shall neverhave this skin.”

He left the room with his eyes burning and his daughter’s wailsechoing in his ears, and found the direwolf pup where they chainedher. Ned sat beside her for a while. “Lady,” he said, tasting thename. He had never paid much attention to the names the childrenhad picked, but looking at her now, he knew that Sansa had chosenwell. She was the smallest of the litter, the prettiest, the most gentleand trusting. She looked at him with bright golden eyes, and herued her thick grey fur.

They were all staring at him, but it was Sansa’s look that cut. “Sheis of the north. She deserves better than a butcher.”

“Do it yourselfthen, Robert,” he said in a voice cold and sharp as steel. “At leasthave the courage to do it yourself.”Robert looked at Ned with at, dead eyes and left without a word,his footsteps heavy as lead. Silence lled the hall.

“Stop them,” Sansa pleaded, “don’t let them do it, please, please,it wasn’t Lady, it was Nymeria, Arya did it, you can’t, it wasn’t Lady,don’t let them hurt Lady, I’ll make her be good, I promise, Ipromise ...” She started to cry.

“We have a wolf,” Cersei Lannister said. Her voice was very quiet,but her green eyes shone with triumph.

Robert started to walk away, but the queen was not done. “Andwhat of the direwolf?” she called after him. “What of the beast thatsavaged your son?”

Perchanc

“Jo told us what happened,” the queen said. “You and thebutcher boy beat him with clubs while you set your wolf on him.”

Lord Renly worea half smile that might mean anything,

Ned went to one knee and took her in his arms. She was shaking.“I’m sorry,” she sobbed, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”“I know,” he said. She felt so tiny in his arms, nothing but ascrawny little girl. It was hard to see how she had caused so muchtrouble. “Are you hurt?”

hen she saw him, she cried outand began to sob.

leaping, jaws closing around Jorey’s sword arm.

“Oh, I love riding,” Sansa said.

he gazed atJorey worshipfully.

“Aerys Targaryen had his tongue ripped out withhot pincers.”

One knight wore an intricate suit of white enameled scales,brilliant as a eld of new-fallen snow, with silver chasings andclasps that glittered in the sun. When he removed his helm, Sansasaw that he was an old man with hair as pale as his armor, yet heseemed strong and graceful for all that. From his shoulders hung thepure white cloak of the Kingsguard.

The two stranger knights exchanged a look. “Payne?” chuckledthe young man in the green armor.The older man in white spoke to Sansa gently. “Ofttimes Ser Ilynfrightens me as well, sweet lady. He has a fearsome aspect.

Cradled under one arm wasan antlered helm, its magnicent rack shimmering in gold.

like their half brother Jon. She even looked likeJon, with the long face and brown hair of the Starks, and nothing oftheir lady mother in her face or her coloring. And Jon’s mother hadbeen common, or so people whispered.

he was almost in tears. All she wanted was forthings to be nice and pretty, the way they were in the songs. Whycouldn’t Arya be sweet and delicate and kind, like PrincessMyrcella? She would have liked a sister like that.

One day she came backgrinning her horsey grin, her hair all tangled and her clothescovered in mud, clutching a raggedy bunch of purple and greenowers for Father. Sansa kept hoping he would tell Arya to behaveherself and act like the highborn lady she was supposed to be, buthe never did, he only hugged her and thanked her for the owers.

Sansa did not really know Jorey yet, but she was already inlove with him.

Ser Rodrik

“Mylady, if it comes to that, my House owes yours a great debt.”

Abashed, Robb sheathed his sword, suddenly a child again

“Gods,” Robb swore, his young face dark with anger. “If this istrue, he will pay for it.” He drew his sword and waved it in the air.“I’ll kill him myself!”Ser Rodrik bristled at him. “Put that away!

“Even the Kingslayer would inchat the murder of an innocent child.”“Oh, would he?” Theon Greyjoy asked. “I wonder.”

“Lord Eddard is a second father to me,” said Theon Greyjoy. “I doso swear.”

“Someone is afraid Bran might wake up,” Robb said, “afraid ofwhat he might say or do, afraid of something he knows.”

Catelyn remembered the way she had been before, and she wasashamed. She had let them all down, her children, her husband, herHouse. It would not happen again. She would show thesenortherners how strong a Tully of Riverrun could be

It was Bran’s wolf, sherealized. Of course it was. “Thank you,” Catelyn whispered, hervoice faint and tiny. She lifted her hand, trembling. The wolfpadded closer, snied at her ngers, then licked at the blood with awet rough tongue. When it had cleaned all the blood o her hand, itturned away silently and jumped up on Bran’s bed and lay downbeside him. Catelyn began to laugh hysterically.That was the way they found them, when Robb and MaesterLuwin and Ser Rodrik burst in with half the guards in Winterfell.When the laughter nally died in her throat, they wrapped her inwarm blankets and led her back to the Great Keep, to her ownchambers. Old Nan undressed her and helped her into a scalding hotbath and washed the blood o her with a soft cloth.

into her ear. Her ngers were slippery with blood, but she wouldnot let go of the dagger. The hand over her mouth clenched moretightly, shutting o her air. Catelyn twisted her head to the side andmanaged to get a piece of his esh between her teeth. She bit downhard into his palm. The man grunted in pain. She ground her teethtogether and tore at him, and all of a sudden he let go. The taste ofhis blood lled her mouth.

he watched the smoke riseinto the sky and thought sadly of all the books the Starks hadgathered over the centuries. Then she closed the shutters

Catelyn said a silent prayer of thanks to the seven faces of god asshe went to the window.

there was no way the re would reach them here.“Thank the gods,” she whispered.Robb looked at her as if she’d gone mad

She didn’t remember falling to the oor, but there she was, andRobb was lifting her, holding her in strong arms. “Don’t be afraid,Mother. They would never hurt him.” He helped her to her narrowbed in the corner of the sickroom. “Close your eyes,” he said gently.“Rest. Maester Luwin tells me you’ve hardly slept since Bran’s fall.”“I can’t,” she wept. “Gods forgive me, Robb, I can’t, what if hedies while I’m asleep, what if he dies, what if he dies ...” The wolveswere still howling. She screamed and held her ears again. “Oh, gods,close the window!”“If you swear to me you’ll sleep.” Robb went to the window,

“Make them stop!” she cried. “I can’tstand it, make them stop, make them stop, kill them all if you must,just make them stop!”

“Rickon needs you,” Robb said sharply. “He’s only three, hedoesn’t understand what’s happening. He thinks everyone hasdeserted him, so he follows me around all day, clutching my leg andcrying. I don’t know what to do with him.” He paused a moment,chewing on his lower lip the way he’d done when he was little.“Mother, I need you too. I’m trying but I can’t ... I can’t do it all bymyself.” His voice broke with sudden emotion, and Catelynremembered that he was only fourteen. She wanted to get up and goto him, but Bran was still holding her hand and she could not move.

“Whatam I doing?” she echoed, puzzled. “How can you ask that? What doyou imagine I’m doing? I am taking care of your brother. I amtaking care of Bran.”

“My son lies here broken and dying, Luwin, and you wish todiscuss a new master of horse? Do you think I care what happens inthe stables? Do you think it matters to me one whit? I would gladlybutcher every horse in Winterfell with my own hands if it wouldopen Bran’s eyes, do you understand that? Do you?”

The boy stood near the re, his face still and hard, lookingdeep into the ames.Tyrion Lannister smiled sadly and went to bed.

“Maybe he thought you were a grumkin.”Tyrion glanced at him sharply. Then he laughed, a raw snort ofamusement that came bursting out through his nose entirely withouthis permission. “Oh, gods,” he said, choking on his laughter andshaking his head, “I suppose I do rather look like a grumkin. Whatdoes he do to snarks?”“You don’t want to know.” Jon picked up the wineskin andhanded it to Tyrion.

Jon Snow stroked Ghost’s thick white fur, smiling now. “Ask menicely.”