A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

“Lady Stark,” he said from his knees. Blood ran down one cheek from a gash across his scalp, but the pale light of dawn had put the glint of gold back in his hair. “I would offer you my sword, but I seem to have mislaid it.”
    â€œIt is not your sword I want, ser,” she told him. “Give me my father and my brother Edmure. Give me my daughters. Give me my lord husband.”
    â€œI have mislaid them as well, I fear.”
    â€œA pity,” Catelyn said coldly.
    â€œKill him, Robb,” Theon Greyjoy urged. “Take his head off.”
    â€œNo,” her son answered, peeling off his bloody glove. “He’s more use alive than dead. And my lord father never condoned the murder of prisoners after a battle.”
    â€œA wise man,” Jaime Lannister said, “and honorable.”
    â€œTake him away and put him in irons,” Catelyn said.
    â€œDo as my lady mother says,” Robb commanded, “andmake certain there’s a strong guard around him. Lord Karstark will want his head on a pike.”
    â€œThat he will,” the Greatjon agreed, gesturing. Lannister was led away to be bandaged and chained.
    â€œWhy should Lord Karstark want him dead?” Catelyn asked.
    Robb looked away into the woods, with the same brooding look that Ned often got. “He … he killed them …”
    â€œLord Karstark’s sons,” Galbart Glover explained.
    â€œBoth of them,” said Robb. “Torrhen and Eddard. And Daryn Hornwood as well.”
    â€œNo one can fault Lannister on his courage,” Glover said. “When he saw that he was lost, he rallied his retainers and fought his way up the valley, hoping to reach Lord Robb and cut him down. And almost did.”
    â€œHe
mislaid
his sword in Eddard Karstark’s neck, after he took Torrhen’s hand off and split Daryn Hornwood’s skull open,” Robb said. “All the time he was shouting for me. If they hadn’t tried to stop him—”
    â€œâ€”I should then be mourning in place of Lord Karstark,” Catelyn said. “Your men did what they were sworn to do, Robb. They died protecting their liege lord. Grieve for them. Honor them for their valor. But not now. You have no time for grief. You may have lopped the head off the snake, but three quarters of the body is still coiled around my father’s castle. We have won a battle, not a war.”
    â€œBut
such
a battle!” said Theon Greyjoy eagerly. “My lady, the realm has not seen such a victory since the Field of Fire. I vow, the Lannisters lost ten men for every one of ours that fell. We’ve taken close to a hundred knights captive, and a dozen lords bannermen. Lord Westerling, Lord Banefort, Ser Garth Greenfield, Lord Estren, Ser Tytos Brax, Mallor the Dornishman … 
and
three Lannisters besides Jaime, Lord Tywin’s own nephews, two of his sister’s sons and one of his dead brother’s …”
    â€œAnd Lord Tywin?” Catelyn interrupted. “Have you perchance taken Lord Tywin, Theon?”
    â€œNo,” Greyjoy answered, brought up short.
    â€œUntil you do, this war is far from done.”
    Robb raised his head and pushed his hair back out of his eyes. “My mother is right. We still have Riverrun.”

DAENERYS
    T he flies circled Khal Drogo slowly, their wings buzzing, a low thrum at the edge of hearing that filled Dany with dread.
    The sun was high and pitiless. Heat shimmered in waves off the stony outcrops of low hills. A thin finger of sweat trickled slowly between Dany’s swollen breasts. The only sounds were the steady clop of their horses’ hooves, the rhythmic tingle of the bells in Drogo’s hair, and the distant voices behind them.
    Dany watched the flies.
    They were as large as bees, gross, purplish, glistening. The Dothraki called them
bloodflies
. They lived in marshes and stagnant pools, sucked blood from man and horse alike, and laid their eggs in the dead and dying. Drogo hated them. Whenever one came near him, his hand would shoot out quick as a striking snake to close around it. She had never seen him miss. He would hold the fly inside his huge fist long enough to hear its frantic buzzing. Then his fingers would tighten, and when he opened his hand again, the fly would be only a red smear on his palm.
    Now one crept across the rump of his stallion, and thehorse gave an angry flick of its tail to brush it