[ He doesn’t flinch at her touch this time. He’s wild enough with fear over her words that a gentle touch on the hand is all but blocked out.
He wants to scream at her to shut up, that he’ll know, that he may not be here now but he’ll hear somehow. His face is white with fright as he quivers, eyes darting around as though he expects someone to emerge from the shadows.
No one does. But still, he can’t relax. ]
You must never say those things about him. He is a lord. He was legitimized by the boy king who sat upon the Iron Throne.
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He wants to scream at her to shut up, that he’ll know, that he may not be here now but he’ll hear somehow. His face is white with fright as he quivers, eyes darting around as though he expects someone to emerge from the shadows.
No one does. But still, he can’t relax. ]
You must never say those things about him. He is a lord. He was legitimized by the boy king who sat upon the Iron Throne.
[ As if a nine year old's word means much. ]