He told her the gossip of the camp and said clever, cutting things that made her smile. You lie, said the waif. She knows why you wear the black, why you go to Old town. He thrust his fingers inside the bodice of her gown and yanked, and the silk parted with a ripping sound so loud that Cersei was afraid that half of the Red Keep must have heard it.
Inside the litter, Tommen settled back against his pillows and peered out at the falling rain. He was only a sick little boy who'd loved his mother. Not that Beric Dondarrion is like to give me one. And you as well? No need.
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