A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle
King Robert had worn antlers on his helm, Sansa
remembered . . . but so did his uncle Lord Renly, Robertâs
brother, who had turned traitor and crowned himself king.
A pair of squires buckled the prince into his ornate silver-and-crimson armor.
A tall plume of red feathers sprouted from the crest of his helm, and the lion
of Lannister and crowned stag of Baratheon frolicked together on his shield.
The squires helped him mount, and Ser Aron Santagar, the Red Keepâs
master-at-arms, stepped forward and handed Tommen a blunted silver longsword
with a leaf-shaped blade, crafted to fit an eight-year-old hand.
Tommen raised the blade high. âCasterly Rock!â he shouted in a high boyish
voice as he put his heels into his pony and started across the
hard-packed dirt
at the quintain. Lady Tanda and Lord Gyles started a ragged cheer, and Sansa
added her voice to theirs. The king brooded in silence.
Tommen got his pony up to a brisk trot, waved his sword vigorously, and struck
the knightâs shield a solid blow as he went by. The quintain spun, the padded
mace flying around to give the prince a mighty whack in the back of his head.
Tommen spilled from the saddle, his new armor rattling like a bag of old pots
as he hit the ground. His sword went flying, his pony cantered away across the
bailey, and a great gale of derision went up. King Joffrey laughed longest and
loudest of all.
âOh,â Princess Myrcella cried. She scrambled out of the box and ran to her
little brother.
Sansa found herself possessed of a queer giddy courage. âYou should go with
her,â she told the king. âYour brother might
be hurt.â
Joffrey shrugged. âWhat if he is?â
âYou should help him up and tell him how well he rode.â Sansa could not seem
to stop herself.
âHe got knocked off his horse and fell in the dirt,â the king pointed out.
âThatâs not riding well.â
âLook,â the Hound interrupted. âThe boy has courage. Heâs going to try
again.â
They were helping Prince Tommen mount his pony.
If only Tommen were the
elder instead of Joffrey,
Sansa thought.
I wouldnât mind marrying
Tommen.
The sounds from the gatehouse took them by surprise. Chains rattled as the
portcullis was drawn upward, and the great gates opened to the creak of iron
hinges. âWho told them to open the gate?â Joff demanded. With the troubles in
the city, the gates of the Red Keep had been closed for days.
A column of riders emerged from beneath the portcullis with a clink of steel
and a clatter of hooves. Clegane stepped close to the king, one hand on the
hilt of his longsword. The visitors were dinted and haggard and dusty, yet the
standard they carried was the lion of Lannister, golden on its crimson field. A
few wore the red cloaks and mail of Lannister men-at-arms, but more were
freeriders and sellswords, armored in oddments and bristling with sharp
steel . . . and there were others, monstrous savages out of one
of Old Nanâs tales, the scary ones Bran used to love. They were clad in shabby
skins and boiled leather, with long hair and
fierce beards. Some wore bloodstained bandages over their brows or wrapped
around their hands, and others were missing eyes, ears, and fingers.
In their midst, riding on a tall red horse in a strange high saddle that
cradled him back and front, was the queenâs dwarf brother Tyrion Lannister, the
one they called the Imp. He had let his beard grow to cover his pushed-in face,
until it was a bristly tangle of yellow and black hair, coarse as wire. Down
his back flowed a shadowskin cloak, black fur striped with white. He held the
reins in his left hand and carried his right arm in a white silk sling, but
otherwise looked as grotesque as Sansa remembered from when he had visited
Winterfell. With his bulging brow and mismatched eyes, he was still the ugliest
man she had ever chanced to look upon.
Yet Tommen put his spurs into his pony and galloped headlong across the yard,
shouting with glee. One of the savages, a huge shambling man so hairy that his
face was all but lost beneath his whiskers, scooped the boy out of his saddle,
armor and all, and deposited him on the ground beside his uncle. Tommenâs
breathless laughter echoed off the walls as Tyrion clapped him on the
backplate, and Sansa was startled to see that the two were of a height.
Myrcella came
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