Two handsome and devoted Goldens that made up for in loyalty what they lacked in intelligence. She knew that were he truly home they would be the first to race the path, falling over each other in fits of snorts and mock fierceness. Each wished to be the first to greet him in delight and bodies quivering ‘sit’ when they were told and wait to be petted. She had all she could do sometimes to stay in bed and not try to beat them up the path. When he finally did come, she thought it was a dream as she had also dreamed many times the sound of wheels on the winding drive. Her own body ached as consciousness became clear and she did indeed hear the mad dash scuffling up the path to meet him. She turned and stretched luxuriantly, blissful in the moment. Surely she had known all along that he’d be home soon, hadn’t she? Her hands moved lightly along the flatness of her warm belly and passed up over her nipples as she thought of where he’d been. The bars, the parties with the painted girls-. I hail from Lannisport. Yes, I’m a bastard, as you can tell.”“What’s your business with me, though?” the Mountain insisted.“Well, m’lord, it’s clear that House Lannister has but one man free enough to champion the Westerlands, and that’s you. Ser Jaime would do it if he were free, but he’s a prisoner again, so we must set him free and plant him on the Iron Throne at last, Kingslayer or not. I don’t believe that he’d bend the knee without being put under duress, ser. We dare not yield this war, good ser. The foreign savages are everywhere, with their heathen gods no less, especially those Red Priestesses of theirs. You haven’t heard their plans for the septons and septas, have you?” Decran inquired, not being a prude, but certainly being devout in his own way.“Not particularly, my man. What is that?” Gregor asked impatiently, not personally giving seven fucks for the Seven.“They wish to make the septons and septas walk, naked no less, in atonement in every city and town of Westeros,.
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