The night the bird had come from Winterfell, Eddard Stark had taken the girls to the castle godswood, an acre of elm and alder and black cottonwood overlooking the river. She sobbed as she struggled to her knees. As the maester knelt to examine the wound, Bran turned his head. The things I told you tonight, he said, his voice sounding even rougher than usual.
Where are the people who live here? Dany asked. When she spoke, she got no answer but a grunt, and not even that much since midday. Littlefinger hefted the knife lightly in his hand, testing the grip. Empty the cup, or I will tell them to hold you down while Ser Jorah pours the whole cask down your throat.
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