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"
Your
Grace
,
"
she
said
,
dipping
in
a
curtsy
.
Ser
Arys
bowed
.
"
Pray
pardon
me
,
Your
Grace
.
I
must
equip
myself
for
the
lists
.
"
Joffrey
waved
a
curt
dismissal
while
he
studied
Sansa
from
head
to
heels
.
"
I
’
m
pleased
you
wore
my
stones
.
"
So
the
king
had
decided
to
play
the
gallant
today
.
Sansa
was
relieved
.
"
I
thank
you
for
them
.
.
.
and
for
your
tender
words
.
I
pray
you
a
lucky
name
day
,
Your
Grace
.
"
"
Sit
,
"
Joff
commanded
,
gesturing
her
to
the
empty
seat
beside
his
own
.
"
Have
you
heard
?
The
Beggar
King
is
dead
.
"
"
Who
?
"
For
a
moment
Sansa
was
afraid
he
meant
Robb
.
"
Viserys
.
The
last
son
of
Mad
King
Aerys
.
He
’
s
been
going
about
the
Free
Cities
since
before
I
was
born
,
calling
himself
a
king
.
Well
,
Mother
says
the
Dothraki
finally
crowned
him
.
With
molten
gold
.
"
He
laughed
.
"
That
’
s
funny
,
don
’
t
you
think
?
The
dragon
was
their
sigil
.
It
’
s
almost
as
good
as
if
some
wolf
killed
your
traitor
brother
.
Maybe
I
’
ll
feed
him
to
wolves
after
I
’
ve
caught
him
.
Did
I
tell
you
,
I
intend
to
challenge
him
to
single
combat
?
"
"
I
should
like
to
see
that
,
Your
Grace
.
"
More
than
you
know
.
Sansa
kept
her
tone
cool
and
polite
,
yet
even
so
Joffrey
’
s
eyes
narrowed
as
he
tried
to
decide
whether
she
was
mocking
him
.
"
Will
you
enter
the
lists
today
?
"
she
asked
quickly
.
The
king
frowned
.
"
My
lady
mother
said
it
was
not
fitting
,
since
the
tourney
is
in
my
honor
.
Otherwise
I
would
have
been
champion
.
Isn
’
t
that
so
,
dog
?
"
The
Hound
’
s
mouth
twitched
.
"
Against
this
lot
?
Why
not
?
"
