Sweet child. Maybe we'll break you, one of the rapers said. Gods know, you have little enough as is. Syrio kicked one in the face and snatched the steel cap off the other's head.
No fire, he muttered, low under his breath. The king smiled. When he spooned an extra portion onto Jon's plate and gave him the crusty heel of the bread, he knew what it meant. He thrust a wineskin into Ned's hands.
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