She'd be a boy, then. Jon, you can't, Sam said. And her betrothed looked at her with the cool grey eyes of a Stark and promised to spare the boy who loved her. Fat Tom's blade dropped from nerveless fingers as the wet red point burst out through his ribs, piercing leather and mail.
Still silent, he turned and walked away. There is no middle ground. I married her, he finally admitted. Oh, there, he's Cregan Stark.
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