at the foot of your loveSmaller in death, a scar marring her perfect face, a circlet of gold lions resting on curls that used to shine, Myrcella is still. She lies at the feet of the throne, wrapped in silks, a queen that never had the chance to rule her kingdom. Beside her, her mother sits with her back against the tangle of steel, keeping silent vigil and waiting
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YOU ARE SO PERFECT
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