Bran(2)
Bran’s father sat solemnly on his horse, long brown hair stirring in the wind. His closely trimmedbeard was shot with white, making him look older than his thirty-five years. He had a grim cast to hisgrey eyes this day, and he seemed not at all the man who would sit before the fire in the evening andtalk softly of the age of heroes and the children of the forest. He had taken off Father’s face, Branthought, and donned the face of Lord Stark of Winterfell.
There were questions asked and answers given there in the chill of morning, but afterward Brancould not recall much of what had been said. Finally his lord father gave a command, and two of hisguardsmen dragged the ragged man to the ironwood stump in the center of the square. They forced hishead down onto the hard black wood. Lord Eddard Stark dismounted and his ward Theon Greyjoybrought forth the sword. “Ice,” that sword was called. It was as wide across as a man’s hand, andtaller even than Robb. The blade was Valyrian steel, spell-forged and dark as smoke. Nothing held anedge like Valyrian steel.