Thrice Ned saw Ser Gregor aim savage blows at the hound's-head helmet, yet not once did Sandor send a cut at his brother's unprotected face. Where were you? he demanded of them. The chamber was richly furnished. He'd refused to eat, cried and screamed for most of a night, even punched Old Nan when she tried to sing him to sleep, and the next day he'd vanished.
'Arya? she called out incredulously. TYRIONSomewhere in the great stone maze of Winterfell, a wolf howled. More than once, I have dreamed of giving up the crown. He looked somehow smaller and more vulnerable, like the youth she had wed in the sept at Riverrun, fifteen long years gone.
Join the newsletter to receive news, updates, new products and freebies in your inbox.