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Tyrion

           HehadtheStarkfaceifnotthename:long,solemn,guarded,afacethatgavenothingaway.Whoeverhismotherhadbeen,shehadleftlittleofherselfinherson."Whatareyoureadingabout?"heasked.

           "Dragons,"Tyriontoldhim.

           "Whatgoodisthat?Therearenomoredragons,"theboysaidwiththeeasycertaintyofyouth.

           "Sotheysay,"Tyrionreplied."Sad,isn’tit?WhenIwasyourage,usedtodreamofhavingadragonofmyown."

           "Youdid?"theboysaidsuspiciously.PerhapshethoughtTyrionwasmakingfunofhim.

           "Oh,yes.Evenastunted,twisted,uglylittleboycanlookdownovertheworldwhenhe’sseatedonadragon’sback."Tyrionpushedthebearskinasideandclimbedtohisfeet."IusedtostartfiresinthebowelsofCasterlyRockandstareattheflamesforhours,pretendingtheyweredragonfire.SometimesI’dimaginemyfatherburning.Atothertimes,mysister."JonSnowwasstaringathim,alookequalpartshorrorandfascination.Tyrionguffawed."Don’tlookatmethatway,bastard.Iknowyoursecret.You’vedreamtthesamekindofdreams."

           "No,"JonSnowsaid,horrified."Iwouldn’t..."

           "No?Never?"Tyrionraisedaneyebrow."Well,nodoubttheStarkshavebeenterriblygoodtoyou.I’mcertainLadyStarktreatsyouasifyouwereoneofherown.AndyourbrotherRobb,he’salwaysbeenkind,andwhynot?HegetsWinterfellandyougettheWall.Andyourfather...hemusthavegoodreasonsforpackingyouofftotheNight’sWatch..."

           "Stopit,"JonSnowsaid,hisfacedarkwithanger.

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