The second generation, the inheritors, the trust-fund brats, so embarrassed by their parents who are so old-fashioned, so parochial, and all they care about is church and business, business and church.
He still sees me as a boy, Jon thought, a green boy, to be cowed by angry words. He could only hope that a night's sleep would bring Lord Janos to his senses.
The Knight of Flowers had no recourse but to follow at her heels like the puppy he was. Cersei waited until they were on the serpentine steps before she said, " Whose notion was that, pray" ?
Bronn shrugged. " The queen commands you to return to the castle at once and attend her in her chambers. That stripling cousin of yours delivered the message. Four hairs on his lip and he thinks he's a man" .