Jaime lifted his stump. nor will he content himself with Ser Gregor's headalone. My jenny's song. When she was gone Jaime took her advice, fumbling one-handed at his laces.
You're going to meet him shortly. She fled, he said. Lord Walder had orderedthe slaughter of the Starks at Roslin's wedding, but it had been Lame Lotharwho had plotted it out with Roose Bolton, all the way down to which songswould be played. It's no more than he deserves, wandering off with some bloody campfollower like a stag in rut.
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