22/04/2026 19:42

---

Bran's father sat solemnly on his horse, long brown hair stirring in the wind. Littlefinger lifted an eyebrow. Grunts and kicks were his only replies. Somehow, the fear had gone away.

Dothraki smells. All we could wasn't enough, Jon said. He eased his longsword from its scabbard. He warmed translucent hands over a glowing brazier where stone eggs smouldered red as coals.