The slit visor of his helm narrowed his vision. Thick globs of molten gold dripped down onto his chest, setting the scarlet silk to smoldering . Catelyn Stark watched the light spread, her hands resting on the delicate carved stone of the balustrade outside her window. He tried dragging one.
The voice was strangely familiar, yet it took Ned Stark a moment to place it. You belong to the Dothraki now. She pretended that Syrio was beside her in the dark, whispering in her ear. Then let us hope your brother will be wise enough not to steal anything.
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