The eve of a great battle — so he survives it, then. Back home, at the foot of those rocks and cliffs, after being beaten nearly to death by that giant bitch. He lives to drag his battered body on to another fight, by the sound of it. He's not so sure how he feels about that yet, given how peaceful the thought of finally just fucking dying had seemed in the moment.
But he lives, meets her again, and that's something. There's worse fates for a man.
His lips turn down into an unhappy scowl at the news of how her future seems to pan out.
"Wed and widowed— to who? The imp?" The news he got while on the road with her sister was sparing, few and far between, but he'd heard rumblings about some such wedding. It sparked amusement in far too many chatty Lannister men. It's not so surprising, the thought that Joffrey might grant her that final insult, but that she's widowed from him already is surprising.
Or, then again, perhaps not. He'd been there when the dwarf slapped his nephew clear across the face. Amusing as the memory is in hindsight, he'd probably halved and halved again his lifespan.
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But he lives, meets her again, and that's something. There's worse fates for a man.
His lips turn down into an unhappy scowl at the news of how her future seems to pan out.
"Wed and widowed— to who? The imp?" The news he got while on the road with her sister was sparing, few and far between, but he'd heard rumblings about some such wedding. It sparked amusement in far too many chatty Lannister men. It's not so surprising, the thought that Joffrey might grant her that final insult, but that she's widowed from him already is surprising.
Or, then again, perhaps not. He'd been there when the dwarf slapped his nephew clear across the face. Amusing as the memory is in hindsight, he'd probably halved and halved again his lifespan.