And I have heard the prayers, in half a hundred tongues. The Arsenal of Braavos. The queen did not know why that occurred to her. Alavne gave the mule his head.
She was dressed like a tavern wench in a heavy roughspun cloak, badly dyed in mottled browns and fraying at the hem. Sit, and have a look at this. A good man to command a garrison, but not a man to love. Petyr welcomed his visitors in a black velvet doublet with grey sleeves that matched his woolen breeches and lent a certain darkness to his grey-green eyes.
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