*”Forgive me, my son.” I prayed to The Seven that my son would understand.*   I watched the men grow restless and violent. All of them wanted Jaime Lannister’s head. And who could blame them? Each argumentation was as valid as the next. I was grateful for Brienne at my side. “You son returns at dawn, milady?” “He won’t last a night.” I replied. “The more they drink, the angrier they’ll get and when the Karstarks draw their swords, who wants to die defending a Lannister?”   I didn’t answer her question. Instead I said, “Come” and we walked
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