Bran rode with his brothers, well ahead of the main party, his pony struggling hard to keep up with their horses. Small chance of that here, Tyrion put in. He should have kept going, but she had never called him by his name before. He rose when she appeared and looked her over critically.
Ser Jorah backed off a step, and her brother climbed unsteadily to his feet. He was stooped and ugly, with an unkempt beard and unwashed clothes, yet Father greeted him pleasantly and asked his name. The silk is ruined. I'm sorry .
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