You ran down the stairs of the red keep, with no regard at all to whether you'd trip over your ball gown.

It was your sister, princess Daenerys' betrothal feast to whatever Dornish prince she was to wed.

And you had enjoyed the feast, really. You just needed to get some fresh hair and freshen up your hairstyle.

You ran and ran, until you bumped into the firm chest of Brynden River's, your father's bastard and your unrecognised half-brother.