He must be ready when his time comes. Logs don't bleed, Tyrion said to no one in particular. Things had gotten interesting while he'd been away, Tyrion reflected. He was dripping wet from the neck down, steaming in the chill air.
He clicked his teeth together. He had no choice, he had told her, and then he left, choosing. Its voice was deep and sonorous, and the long slow clanging filled Sansa with a sense of dread. You have done all I could have asked of you, and a hundred times more.
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