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Who did you say your mother was again?
Cinda Lannister.
Is she the fat one?
Well, perhaps she's gotten a little larger than she...
No, no. There's only one fat Lannister.
If she was your mother, you'd know it.
I squired for you once, you know.
When?
The tournament, the day of Willem Frey's wedding.
I went to Willem Frey's wedding?
You did.
Your squire had gotten so drunk the night before that he threw up.
He threw up on his horse on the way to the tourney grounds. What was his name?
- Bryan.
Poor lad.
That was my brother's doing, I seem to recall.
I remember you.
You'd never squired for anyone before.
That's right. I ran up and volunteered. "Let me, my lord. Let me."
My father was furious.
Afraid I'd embarrass our family in front of the Family.
You didn't, though.
You really remember?
You knew when you were needed and when to go away. It's a rare talent.
Most of my squires,
they mean well, but young men with big jobs, they tend to overdo them.
- When I think back to that day... - Shh!
You were saying?
I...
Never mind. It's embarrassing.
More embarrassing than being chained to a post covered in your own ***?
I remember everything about that day,
your helmet, your horse,
the rake lines in the dirt along the list,
where the sun was in the sky when you knocked Balon Swann from his horse,
and the dent in your shield when you handed it back to me.
I'll remember it all until I die.
That was the best day of my life.
And I remember being on the field after it was over.
All the competitors were done. I was the last one out there.
And I couldn't leave.
I couldn't bring myself to go and sit with my family at a table so far on the edge of the feast
you could barely even see the bride.
And I couldn't bear to tell them what it had been like squiring for you,
when I knew that they could never have the faintest idea what I was talking about.
I understand completely.
How could you?
Sorry, I... I didn't mean to doubt you. It's just that I...
I was 16 once.
I also had to replace someone's squire on short notice.
Which knight was it?
Barristan Selmy.
The fight against the Kingswood Outlaws. Before your time.
What was he like?
He was...
A painter.
A painter who only used red.
I couldn't imagine being able to fight like that, not back then.
And to help him do that, to be a part of something that perfect.
I don't need to explain how that felt, not to you.
It's hard to put into words.
It's like
stepping into a dream you've been dreaming for as long as you can remember,
and finding out that the dream
is more real than your life.
Leaving that battlefield was
like being dragged off to prison.
- Did you squire for him again? - No.
I didn't have your gift.
He couldn't take a step without stepping on me.
I was awful, a complete liability.
Until one of the outlaws decided to take on a 16-year-old squire.
It's a good thing I am who I am.
I'd have been useless at anything else.