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He was, Your Grace.
It is. The Death's Head manticore.
Oh, Tyrion.
( groans )
There are many outside waiting to beg the same of you.
I love my brother.
Did you love her?
You can never be a kneeler again.
You did well. Fought hard.
from north and south,
No.
No.
Of all the ways I'd kill you,
Your Grace.
I am your son.
( grunts )
What do you decide? What do you choose?
She loved you.
and I meant it.
All of them.
But Master Mighdal and I agreed that I must.
( speaking low Valyrian )
Come with me, Arya. I'll take you to safety.
No, it's a proper northern drink, Jon Snow.
But I kept fighting the boys anyway.
- Mag and Grenn. - Grenn and Mag.
You can shit later. There's people coming.
( groans )
( gasping )
We can stop. We can rest.
I taught them languages and history.
Put down the crossbow.
But, Your Grace, this is my laboratory.
At least I'd have one happy memory.
If you did it like I taught you,