Littlefinger winced. The guardsman gave a choked cry and staggered back, clutching at his neck, his face blackening. She had a small black kitten she called Balerion, did you know? I always wondered what happened to him. How young they all had been.
If she flung herself from the window, she could put an end to her suffering, and in the years to come the singers would write songs of her grief. By the end of the first week, Tyrion's thighs were raw from hard riding, his legs were cramping badly, and he was chilled to the bone. When Rhaegar fell, many threw down their weapons and fled the field. In the quiet she could hear them, far off yet moving closer; the tread of many horses, the rattle of swords and spears and armor, the murmur of human voices, with here a laugh, and there a curse.
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