His collar, she noted, was ordinary bronze. And now you are a dead girl. His queen mother stood beside him in a black mourning gown slashed with crimson, a veil of black diamonds in her hair. And your outriders? Ser Gregor Clegane's face might have been hewn from rock.
Sansa could sew and dance and sing. Put away your sword, Greyjoy, Robb said. Why was he always so cruel? She had only wanted to help. He could not be denied a trial.
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