That seemed to amuse the Lord of the Dreadfort. Three hundred dragons is a fair ransom for a knight. Wars do not win themselves, Tyrion, Cersei said with poisonous sweetness. Clegane's hand shot up and grabbed the Dornishman behind the knee.
Them long black ones, they're like rocks, they keep foryears. If we let Stannis choose our LordCommander, we become his bannermen in all but name. I stopped. When I laid those bodies before the throne, no man could doubt thatwe had forsaken House Targaryen forever.
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