“Your Grace ... I found ... we found ... the Hand, Qyburn, dead, along with one of his agents, named Jarrad, and a bald man whom I didn’t recogniz.... He wore very fine clothes, robes, as I recall. They were all dead ... and purple in the face, with bruises everywhere. They had just eaten some meat pies and drank some Dornish wine when they perished, Your Grace, so it must have been poison of some kind. It resembled the face of King Joffrey when he died, Your Grace,” the maidservant informed. But, I had always been excited by her fine body. I realized my fascination had become less and less excitement; more and more it had changed to awe. And it was in awe I lay there, gazing up at her, as she continued to roll her hips into me. She sensed my apprehension alongside my arousal and, I think, had begun to get a taste of her growing sense of power over me. This was new to her, and she was fascinated with what she could accomplish with her body, what she could do to me. She saw my eyes. More

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