as it please you. What if he's betrayed? Caravan guards were seldom troubled much by thoughts of honor, and the Usurper in King's Landing would pay well for her brother's head. Arya, sit down. Oh, very good, said Littlefinger, closing the door.
He would hurt her now, and badly, she knew that. She raced, her feet melting the stone wherever they touched. That is no place for a king, her brother declared. Frog-faced Lord Slynt sat at the end of the council table wearing a black velvet doublet and a shiny cloth-of-gold cape, nodding with approval every time the king pronounced a sentence.
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