ayoungfalcon.
“You jousted well, Ser Harrold,” It was fact; not bitter, not in girlish admiration as she bowed her head just slightly. Certainly she had gifted her favor to another, the loyal knight Ser Lothor Brune, and though not a particularly handsome man, nor as successful in the tilts, he was good and kind and the reaction from Harry the Arse was more than worthwhile. Sansa had not waited by the stables like some poorly dog, yearning for its master’s attention, but happened by their entry as the Young Falcon exited, caught unawares too. His squire had helped dismantle his plate armour and leathers, and beneath she could now see the injuries he’d sustained, mottled bruises, perhaps even a cut or too. How bold of him. In a mocking tone, she murmured. “No one told me you were brave.”
