"My lady? Surely you don't mean to..." Podrick trailed off, because the boy knew well and good she meant precisely what she said. But it seemed to dampen his spirits to imagine his Lady to lose her hair.

Even Tyrion was starting to lament the idea. And yet, he could not bring himself to stop her. A cruel part of him wanted her to be sheared. He could be less resentful of their marriage if she was less pretty.

Having found the knife, Podrick presented it to her quietly, though his eyes betrayed what he thought. Don't do it.