He looks at them for a long moment, then half-shrugs.

“Like they belong at a funeral. I’d say the Night’s Watch, but some of them are in skirts. Some houses wear black, too, but there’s only one Targaryen left these days, and their colors were black and red.”

That doesn’t explain much, on either side. She doesn’t look sad, the way she might if this reminded her of the loss of someone dear to her. She doesn’t look happy, either. And there’s something else.

“They look like Lady Harrowhark. Like they’re the same sort of people.

“What are they really?”