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Tyrion

           Brothertothequeen.Doyourememberthebattle?Sometimeswithheadwounds"

           "Yourname."Histhroatwasraw,andhistonguehadforgottenhowtoshapethewords.

           "IamMaesterBallabar."

           "Ballabar,"Tyrionrepeated."Bringme.Lookingglass."

           "Mylord,"themaestersaid,"Iwouldnotcounsel...thatmightbe,ah,unwise,asitwere...yourwound..."

           "Bringit,"hehadtosay.Hismouthwasstiffandsore,asifapunchhadsplithislip."Anddrink.Wine.Nopoppy."

           Themaesterroseflush-facedandhurriedoff.Hecamebackwithaflagonofpaleamberwineandasmallsilveredlookingglassinanornategoldenframe.Sittingontheedgeofthebed,hepouredhalfacupofwineandheldittoTyrion’sswollenlips.Thetricklewentdowncool,thoughhecouldhardlytasteit."More,"hesaidwhenthecupwasempty.MaesterBallabarpouredagain.Bytheendofthesecondcup,TyrionLannisterfeltstrongenoughtofacehisface.

           Heturnedovertheglass,anddidnotknowwhetherheoughttolaughorcry.Thegashwaslongandcrooked,startingahairunderhislefteyeandendingontherightsideofhisjaw.Three-quartersofhisnosewasgone,andachunkofhislip.Someonehadsewnthetornfleshtogetherwithcatgut,andtheirclumsystitcheswerestillinplaceacrosstheseamofraw,red,half-healedflesh."Pretty,"hecroaked,flingingtheglassaside.

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