"Really, dragons?" Bran could not blame him. He'd hung on his father's descriptions of the dragon skulls that used to hang in the Red Keep during the Mad King's reign.

He smiled back, only a little tentative, but then his expression turned a little puzzled. "I don't think I know them," Bran said, politely, but there was comfort in knowing that he'd know of any additional Stark babes on the island. "Perhaps? The maester doctors say they might find someone to make a chair in my size."