Ana stood at the prow, one hand resting on the gilded figurehead, a maiden with a bowl of fruit. The septs are packed to bursting, and the red priests have lit their temple fires. We might even have reached Pentos. The singer tightened a string on his harp.
The two of you must sup with me. By the time they got the maester into the wayn. Whenever Ser Clarence killed a man, he d fetch his head back home and his wife would kiss it on the lips and bring it back t' life. He blinked back tears.
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