The last Lannister breathed in the crisp wintry air, fur ruffling in the cold wind that was blowing. She reveled in the days like this, where it was sunny and she could face her ghosts in peace and silence.
“Do you know I’m here, thinking of you?” she asked the open air, trying to fully recall her brother Tytos’ face. “Are you playing with Mother and Tyrion? Is Nanala with you?” Primrose’s voice caught, and she cleared her throat before going on. “Is Father up there, too? Are you . . . happy?”
It had been many months since Marigold’s murder, the invasion of Drekistone, and Nanala’s disappearance, and life was finally achieving normalcy. “I met Grandmother, finally. Sansa helped me get to Amaya; she went back to Drekistone, but Margaery is here too. They helped me and Nanala escape, but you probably know that if Nanala is with you.” She never cried anymore when she thought of them. Just harmless ghosts from the past, those she loved dearly.


“So I’ll use my voice, I’ll be so f u c k i n g rude!”