His wits havegone dark as his eyes. Aspearpoint jabbed at the small of the back, shoving him into the abyss. If he runs, rip out his throat. Slim as a sword, lithe and fit, Ser Loras Tyrell wore a snowy linen tunic andwhite wool breeches, with a gold belt around his waist and a gold roseclasping his fine silk cloak.
He found his father where he knew he'd find him, seated in the dimness of theprivy tower, bedrobe hiked up around his hips. Hismouth moved in and out. I have a good heart. By all the laws of the hearth, we - There are no laws beyond the Wall, old man.
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