"Careful which of you takes it," Brynden warns.
"Why?" You eye Dark Sister warily, not for its sharpness but for whatever power it may hold. Many were the poisoned gifts you have seen in your travels, and while you do not believe the ancient sorcerer has any reason to betray you with a purpose you know enough about the black arts that went into the forging of Dragonsteel.
"The blade has not been wielded in earnest for more than sixty years. The world was a different place then. I thought I heard it wake in the years that passed, since magic began to return to the world, though steel is not the loudest of things. If any blade of House Targaryen should hold some hidden power it would be this one. Carried by Visenya herself, who was named a witch by many, from then on it passed from hand to hand, drinking blood common, noble, aye even royal on nigh a hundred battle grounds." A laugh that sounds like the cawing of ravens. "A woman's sword was this in the beginning, perhaps like a woman it might prove jealous of its bearer."