Sansa

           SansarodetotheHand’stourneywithSeptaMordaneandJeynePoole,inalitterwithcurtainsofyellowsilksofineshecouldseerightthroughthem.Theyturnedthewholeworldgold.Beyondthecitywalls,ahundredpavilionshadbeenraisedbesidetheriver,andthecommonfolkcameoutinthethousandstowatchthegames.ThesplendorofitalltookSansa’sbreathaway;theshiningarmor,thegreatchargerscaparisonedinsilverandgold,theshoutsofthecrowd,thebannerssnappinginthewind...andtheknightsthemselves,theknightsmostofall.

           "Itisbetterthanthesongs,"shewhisperedwhentheyfoundtheplacesthatherfatherhadpromisedher,amongthehighlordsandladies.Sansawasdressedbeautifullythatday,inagreengownthatbroughtouttheauburnofherhair,andsheknewtheywerelookingatherandsmiling.

           Theywatchedtheheroesofahundredsongsrideforth,eachmorefabulousthanthelast.ThesevenknightsoftheKingsguardtookthefield,allbutJaimeLannisterinscaledarmorthecolorofmilk,theircloaksaswhiteasfreshfallensnow.SerJaimeworethewhitecloakaswell,butbeneathithewasshininggoldfromheadtofoot,withalion’s-headhelmandagoldensword.SerGregorClegane,theMountainThatRides,thunderedpastthemlikeanavalanche.SansarememberedLordYohnRoyce,whohadguestedatWinterfelltwoyearsbefore."Hisarmorisbronze,thousandsandthousandsofyearsold,engravedwithmagicrunesthatwardhimagainstharm,"shewhisperedtoJeyne.

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