The child kicked inside her, as if he had heard. A few hundred men, no more. She knew what sorts of men they were, each one. His days were spent drilling the guard and practicing his swordplay, making the yard ring with the sound of steel as Bran watched forlornly from his window.
Catelyn pulled the furs to her chin and watched him. Tyrion Lannister dangled between them, kicking feebly, his face red with shame. Tyrion hawked up a glob of blood and phlegm and spat it out into the sky. Robb stood knee-deep in white, his hood pulled back so the sun shone in his hair.
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