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Are you in agony, my lion?
- No. - You look like you're in agony.
The fire is burning your pretty soft skin.
Ahhh.
Damn you, woman. Are you immune to pain?
- Just used to it. - Drink.
Let's play a new game.
There's a Braavosi knife game I could teach you
Does it involve the potential for losing fingers?
- Not if you win. - No!
No more fire games, no knife games.
Let's do something I'm good at.
What are you good at?
I happen to be a great judge of character.
- This sounds like a boring game. - It's not.
Here's how it works: I make a statement
about your past. If I'm right,
you drink. If I'm wrong, I drink.
And no lying. I'll know if you're lying.
I don't want to play this game.
Fine. Bronn first.
Your father beat you.
But my mother hit harder.
You killed your first man before you were 12.
It was a woman.
She swung an axe at me.
You've been North of the Wall.
What brought you up there?
Work.
And
You once loved a woman many years ago,
but it turned out badly so you've never let yourself love again.
Oh wait, that's me.
Your turn, my mysterious foreign beauty.
I don't want to play.
It's fun! Look at the fun we're having.
Your mother was a ***.
Drink.
All right.
Your father left the family when you were very young,
- never to return. - Drink.
And we've established the rules about lying?
Drink!
Mmmm.
You wanted a different life.
You came from somewhere and you wanted to be elsewhere.
The whole ***-stained world could drink off that one.
So specifics
you wanted to be elsewhere, but how would you get there?
I don't believe the life of the silent sisters is for you.
So what's a lowborn girl to do?
Drink.
- Are you sure - drink!
And don't talk about my mother and father ever
or I will carve your eyes from your head.
My dear lady, if I have offended you, I apologize.
My turn.
Fine fine.
Ask away.
Try to penetrate the enigma that is me.
- Who were you in love with? - That's not how the game works.
I don't care the way the game works.
Our Lord here used to be married.
- Married? - How did you hear that?
You hear lots of things playing dice with Lannister soldiers.
Another night, perhaps.
Not another night. This night.
It's not a pleasant story.
- Or maybe I will cry. - I'm guessing the lady and I
can tell more unpleasant stories than your Lordship.
So
I was 16. My brother Jaime and I were riding
when we heard a scream. She ran out onto the road,
clothes half torn off with two men on her heels.
Jaime scared away the men easily enough, while I wrapped her in my cloak.
She was too scared to send off on her own,
so while Jaime hunted down the rapers
I took her to the nearest inn and fed her.
Her name was Tysha.
She was a wheelwright's orphan.
And she was hungry
together we finished off three chickens and a flagon of wine.
Impossible as it seems, there was a time when I was unaccustomed to wine.
I forgot how afraid I was around girls,
how I was always waiting for them to laugh at me
or look away embarrassed
or ask me about my tall handsome brother.
I forgot about everything but Tysha.
And somehow I found myself in her bed.
For three chickens, I should hope so.
It didn't last long. I didn't know what the hell I was doing.
But she was good to me.
She kissed me afterwards
and sang me a song.
And by morning I was deep enough in love to ask for her hand.
A few lies, a few gold coins, one drunken Septon
and there you have it man and wife.
For a fortnight anyway, until the Septon sobered up
and told my father.
I imagine that was the end of all that.
Not quite.
First, my father had Jaime tell me the truth.
The girl was a ***, you see.
Jaime had arranged the whole thing,
the road, the rapers all of it.
He thought it was time I had a woman.
After my brother confessed,
my father brought in my wife
and gave her to his guards.
He paid her well a silver for each man.
How many *** command that kind of price?
He brought me into the barracks and made me watch.
By the end, she had so much silver
that the coins were slipping through her fingers
and rolling onto the floor.
I would have killed the man who did that to me.
You should have known she was a ***.
Really?
I was 16, drunk and in love
A girl who was almost ***
doesn't invite another man into her bed two hours later.
As I said, I was young and stupid.
You are still young and stupid.