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Tyrion

           "Myrcella?"

           "Whenshecomesofage,shecanwedlittleLordRobert.Untilsuchtime,she’llbeLadyLysa’swardattheEyrie."

           "AndwhatdoesHerGracethequeenthinkofthisploy?"WhenTyrionshrugged,Littlefingerburstintolaughter."Ithoughtnot.You’readangerouslittleman,Lannister.Yes,IcouldsingthissongtoLysa."Againtheslysmile,themischiefinhisglance."IfIcaredto."

           Tyrionnodded,waiting,knowingLittlefingercouldneverabidealongsilence.

           "So,"LordPetyrcontinuedafterapause,utterlyunabashed,"what’sinyourpotforme?"

           "Harrenhal."

           Itwasinterestingtowatchhisface.LordPetyr’sfatherhadbeenthesmallestofsmalllords,hisgrandfatheralandlesshedgeknight;bybirth,heheldnomorethanafewstonyacresonthewindsweptshoreoftheFingers.HarrenhalwasoneoftherichestplumsintheSevenKingdoms,itslandsbroadandrichandfertile,itsgreatcastleasformidableasanyintherealm...andsolargeastodwarfRiverrun,wherePetyrBaelishhadbeenfosteredbyHouseTully,onlytobebrusquelyexpelledwhenhedaredraisehissightstoLordHoster’sdaughter.

           Littlefingertookamomenttoadjustthedrapeofhiscape,butTyrionhadseentheflashofhungerinthoseslycat’seyes.Ihavehim,heknew."Harrenhaliscursed,"LordPetyrsaidafteramoment,tryingtosoundbored.

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