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/ ASOIAF: A Feast for Crows chapters by first sentence
A Song of Ice and Fire
Can you pick the POV character for each chapter of A Feast for Crows, given its first sentence?
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SPOILER WARNING for Book IV.
ASOIAF: A Dance with Dragons chapters by first sentence
“Dragons,” said Mollander.
The prophet was drowning men on Great Wyk when they came to tell him that the king was dead.
“The blood oranges are well past ripe,” the prince observed in a weary voice, when the captain rolled him onto the terrace.
She dreamt she sat the Iron Throne, high above them all.
“I am looking for a maid of three-and-ten,” she told the grey-haired goodwife beside the village well.
[Character] was reading about the Others when he saw the mouse.
Faint and far away the light burned, low on the horizon, shining through the sea mists.
A cold rain was falling, turning the walls and ramparts of the Red Keep dark as blood.
Ser [character], all in white, stood beside his father’s bier, five fingers curled about the hilt of a golden greatsword.
The gates of Duskendale were closed and barred.
Once, when she was just a little girl, a wandering singer had stayed with them at Winterfell for half a year.
The hall was loud with drunken Harlaws, distant cousins all.
“Oh, I pray the Seven will not let it rain upon the king’s wedding,” Jocelyn Swyft said as she laced up the queen’s gown.
The night was unseasonably cool, even for autumn.
The stone wall was old and crumbling, but the sight of it across the field made the hairs on [character]’s neck stand up.
The sea made [character] greensick.
Lord Tywin Lannister had entered the city on a stallion, his enameled crimson armor polished and gleaming, bright with gems and goldwork.
Three wretched fools with a leather sack, the queen thought as they sank to their knees before her.
The wind was blowing from the north as the Iron Victory came round the point and entered the holy bay called Nagga’s Cradle.
Only when his arms and legs were numb from the cold did [character] struggle back to shore and don his robes again.
East of Maidenpool the hills rose wild, and the pines closed in about them like a host of silent grey-green soldiers.
Beneath the burning sun of Dorne, wealth was measured as much in water as in gold, so every well was zealously guarded.
Each night before sleep, she murmured her prayer into her pillow.
As the rising sun came streaming through the windows, Alayne sat up in bed and stretched.
The king was pouting.
It was Hyle Hunt who insisted that they take the heads.
[Character] stood before the window, rocking nervously as he watched the last light of the sun vanish behind a row of sharp-peaked rooftops.
“I had hoped that by now you would have grown tired of that wretched beard.”
It was a slow climb to the top of Visenya’s Hill.
The drums were pounding out a battle beat as the Iron Victory swept forward, her ram cutting through the choppy green waters.
The fields outside the walls of Darry were being tilled once more.
The septry stood upon an upthrust island half a mile from the shore, where the wide mouth of the Trident widened further still to kiss the Bay of Crabs.
“A thousand ships!”
The trumpets made a brazen blare, and cut the still blue air of dusk.
She woke before the sun came up, in the little room beneath the eaves that she shared with Brusco’s daughters.
The Cinnamon Wind was a swan ship out of Tall Trees Town on the Summer Isles, where men were black, women were wanton, and even the gods were strange.
The day had been cold and grey and wet.
They came upon the first corpse a mile from the crossroads.
The brooch that fastened Ser Brynden Tully’s cloak was a black fish, wrought in jet and gold.
Grand Maester Pycelle had been old for as long as she had known him, but he seemed to have aged another hundred years in the past three nights.
Hers was a gentle prison.
She turned the iron ring and pushed the door open, just a crack.
This is an evil dream, she thought.
Septa Moelle was a white-haired harridan with a face as sharp as an axe and lips pursed in perpetual disapproval.
The new Lord of Riverrun was so angry that he was shaking.
The most perilous part of the voyage was the last.
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