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"
Were
you
?
"
He
swung
the
door
shut
behind
him
.
"
You
doubt
me
?
"
"
Always
,
and
with
good
reason
.
"
"
I
’
m
hurt
.
"
Tyrion
waddled
to
the
sideboard
for
a
cup
of
wine
.
He
knew
no
surer
way
to
work
up
a
thirst
than
talking
with
Cersei
.
"
If
I
’
ve
given
you
offense
,
I
would
know
how
.
"
"
What
a
disgusting
little
worm
you
are
.
Myrcella
is
my
only
daughter
.
Did
you
truly
imagine
that
I
would
allow
you
to
sell
her
like
a
bag
of
oats
?
"
Myrcella
,
he
thought
.
Well
,
that
egg
has
hatched
.
Let
’
s
see
what
color
the
chick
is
.
"
Hardly
a
bag
of
oats
.
Myrcella
is
a
princess
.
Some
would
say
this
is
what
she
was
born
for
.
Or
did
you
plan
to
marry
her
to
Tommen
?
"
Her
hand
lashed
out
,
knocking
the
wine
cup
from
his
hand
to
spill
on
the
floor
.
"
Brother
or
no
,
I
should
have
your
tongue
out
for
that
.
I
am
Joffrey
’
s
regent
,
not
you
,
and
I
say
that
Myrcella
will
not
be
shipped
off
to
this
Dornishman
the
way
I
was
shipped
to
Robert
Baratheon
.
"
Tyrion
shook
wine
off
his
fingers
and
sighed
.
"
Why
not
?
She
’
d
be
a
deal
safer
in
Dorne
than
she
is
here
.
"
"
Are
you
utterly
ignorant
or
simply
perverse
?
You
know
as
well
as
I
that
the
Martells
have
no
cause
to
love
us
.
"
"
The
Martells
have
every
cause
to
hate
us
.
Nonetheless
,
I
expect
them
to
agree
.
Prince
Doran
’
s
grievance
against
House
Lannister
goes
back
only
a
generation
,
but
the
Dornishmen
have
warred
against
Storm
’
s
End
and
Highgarden
for
a
thousand
years
,
and
Renly
has
taken
Dorne
’
s
allegiance
for
granted
.
Myrcella
is
nine
,
Trystane
Martell
eleven
.
I
have
proposed
they
wed
when
she
reaches
her
fourteenth
year
.
Until
such
time
,
she
would
be
an
honored
guest
at
Sunspear
,
under
Prince
Doran
’
s
protection
.
"
