But Robert had ruined everything. If he had been a little more sensible, he could have had a good son to marry her Sansa Stark.
"Yes." Eddard, dressed in a gray-white wool coat, nodded, his eyes complicated. "Robert, damn you. You fathered children but never raised them properly, then got yourself gored to death by a boar. You couldn't even see your child's wedding."
At the mention of weddings, Eddard rubbed his brow. Damn it, not one of this whole brood had a marriage arranged. Bran was already crippled. Arya was the most troublesome little wolf, and Sansa was not easy to manage either.
Arya Stark saw her sister staring at the man on the platform. He certainly shone brilliantly, but he already belonged to someone.
Arya was not looking at Gendry's face. The Storm who interested her was the fiercest warrior, an extremely dangerous killer.
Young, handsome, beautiful. Sansa looked at the platform, her thoughts turning over and over. Was the dream I once had of becoming queen nothing more than a fantasy?
Sansa's auburn hair had been arranged in soft little curls. Her undergarments were all silk, while her gown itself was woven from ivory brocade and silver thread, edged with silver satin. She also wore a long white velvet cloak adorned with countless pearls, with a fierce direwolf embroidered on it in silver thread.
"Their feelings really are genuine. I thought Stannis was a block of ice," Tyene Sand remarked from Dorne's seats.
"The Storm fights as well as Robert, but he isn't as willful or self-centered," said Prince Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper. Thus, Robert's son could surpass Robert.
"Everyone lives in his elder brother's shadow, don't they, Stannis? Though you pretend to hate him, you still love him." Oberyn watched a trace of vulnerability pass