Chapter Text
My father has died.
My father, the traitor, has died.
My father, the traitor, was executed.
My father, the traitor, was executed for questioning Joffrey’s claim to the Iron Throne. His death was merciful, they say, but merciful for whom? He lost his head with honor, if such a thing even matters here. And the bite of steel was quick and smooth. Painless, the executioner assures me with a leering smile. But the real pain in death is not suffered by the condemned, I have learned that lesson. And now I sit perched in my gilded cage, a wolf in golden chains, waiting to be wed. Sometimes I catch myself staring, contemplating my betrothed’s neck. I wonder, would it look like my father’s, if the flesh were stripped and the head removed? Unpleasant thoughts for such a well-bred lady. Have I changed so much, become so hard? I don’t know. There is so little I am sure of now, in these days of endless summer.
My father, the traitor, was executed.
My father, the traitor, has died.
My father is dead.