He was planning to send the boy to Dragonstone for fostering, you know...oh, but I'm speaking out of turn.
The apple of his throat bobbed anxiously beneath the loose maester's chain.
I fear I've had too much of Lord Hunter's excellent wine.
The prospect of bloodshed has my nerves all a-fray...
You are mistaken, Maester, Catelyn said.
It was Casterly Rock, not Dragonstone, and those arrangements were made after the Hand's death, without my sister's consent.
The maester's head jerked so vigorously at the end of his absurdly long neck that he looked half a puppet himself.
No, begging your forgiveness, my lady, but it was Lord Jon who...
A bell tolled loudly below them. High lords and serving girls alike broke off what they were doing and moved to the balustrade.
Below, two guardsmen in sky-blue cloaks led forth Tyrion Lannister.
The Eyrie's plump septon escorted him to the statue in the center of the garden, a weeping woman carved in veined white marble, no doubt meant to be Alyssa.
The bad little man, Lord Robert said, giggling.
Mother, can I make him fly? I want to see him fly.
Later, my sweet baby, Lysa promised him.
Trial first, drawled Ser Lyn Corbray, then execution.
A moment later the two champions appeared from opposite sides of the garden. The knight was attended by two young squires, the sellsword by the Eyrie's master-at-arms.