Tyrion rubbed at his neck as he looked up at the corpse of a woman he'd once known and even somewhat respected. They called her Lady Stoneheart and he could easily see why. Buffy had talked of going over the wall to fight the living dead.

It turned out they hadn't needed to go far at all. It was all explained who he was, but the woman's eyes never left him. When she tried to speak, she had to cover her neck, otherwise there would be no words. It made Tyrion sick to look at her and he wondered how the others could stand it. He could see Thoros, the poor priest he was, with a bowed head and worried expression. It's out of control. Their brotherhood is a bloody cult.

"You are a false and vile man," a northman said, speaking on behalf of his whispering lady. "She traded your brother's life for her daughters, but was paid back in blood. Her son's blood and her own."

I've talked myself out of many things. But I've never talked myself away from her. "My father's doing," Tyrion answered. "Not mine. Your daughter- she is in good hands, the Tyrells-"

She whispered some more with hateful eyes. The northman spoke for her. "The Tyrells lie with lions and share their greed and filth. And you accused of trying to murder her own son."

"I did not do that. Accuse me of anything, but your lady knows I won my innocence through trial by combat. I demand it once more, I would name-"

She whispered. The Northman spoke. "There are no gods here. No divine protection for your innocence. But you will not hang. You'll receive the same justice her lord husband did."

A man emerged with a long sword, but it was not brilliant and sharp like Ned's Ice. This one was old, rusted, and a cruel ugly thing. It would not slice all in one go. It would be a horrific way to go. He wondered if his father would be happy when he found out.