The sole question that remained was how best to stanch the wound. Rhaego, they screamed. There's no one here. Tyrion sat alone in the common room for a long while after his father was gone.
He'd thrust the torch into the mouth of one of the larger skulls and made the shadows leap and dance on the wall behind him. It swung well past his belt, below even his buttocks, the end of it brushing against the back of his thighs. There is no privacy in the heart of the khalasar. Must you do your standing here? he asked.
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