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Joffrey is having people fight for his own entertainment. We are all forced to sit here and watch.

The Hound hits his opponent making him fall off the tower.

"Did you like that?" he asks Sansa.

"It was well struck, Your Grace." 

"How about you sister did you like that?"

"Yeah, it was well struck," I say sarcastically.

"Who's next?" 

"Lother Brune, the free rider in service of Lord Baelish. Ser Dontos of Red of House Hollard."

Ser Dontos doesn't walk out.

"Ser Dontos the Red of House Hollard!"

"Here I am," he says running down the steps.

He drops his helmet and he doesn't know which way to put it on.

"Sorry Your Grace, my deepest apologies."

"Are you drunk?" Joffery asks him.

"No," he says, "No, no, no Your Grace. I had two cups of wine."

"Two cups? That's not much at all. Please have another cup."

"Are you sure Your Grace?"

"Yes, to celebrate my name day. Have two. Have as much as you like."

"I would be honored, Your Grace."  

"Ser Meryn, help Ser Dontos celebrate my name day. See that he drinks his fill."

The guards grab him and put him on his knees. They start to force a bucket on wine down his throat.

I tell Mrycella and Tommen to look away.

"You can't," Sansa says.

"What did you say? Did you say I can't?"

"I only meant that it would be back luck to kill a man on your name day."

"What kind of stupid peasants superstition..."

"She's right," I say, "When a man sows on his name day, he reaps all year."

"Take him away. I'll have him killed tomorrow the fool."

He throws up all the wine.

"He is a fool. You're so clever to see it," Sansa says, "He'll make a much better fool than a knight. He doesn't deserve the mercy of a quick death."

"Did you hear my lady, Ser Dontos? From this day, you'll be my new fool."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Ser Dontos says, "And you, my lady, thank you."

"Beloved Nephew," I hear behind me I turn around and its Tryion. I have a big smile on my face. I softly laugh at Joffrey's face when he sees our uncle.

He walks over to where we are, "We looked for you on the battlefield and you were nowhere to be found."

"Did you really expect Joffery to be on the battlefield actually fighting?" I ask, Tryion laughs.

Tryion pours himself a glass of wine. 

"I've been here, ruling the kingdoms," Joffery says.

"What a fine job you've done."

"We heard you were dead."

"I'm sure glad you're not dead," I say.

"Me too, death is so boring,  especially now, with so much excitement in the world," Tyrion sees Sansa, "My lady, I'm sorry for your loss."

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