A Game of Thrones 4-Book Bundle

“Can your father give me that? If not, he can get buggered. The boy will rot beside you. Wolves will gnaw your bones.”
    â€œDo you mean to hang her, Lem?” asked the one-eyed man. “Or do you figure to talk the bitch to death?”
    The Hound snatched the end of the rope from the man holding it. “Let’s see if she can dance,” he said, and gave a yank.
    Brienne felt the hemp constricting, digging into her skin, jerking her chin upward. Ser Hyle was cursing them eloquently, but not the boy. Podrick never lifted his eyes, not even when his feet were jerked up off the ground.
If this is another dream, it is time for me to awaken. If this is real, it is time for me to die.
All she could see was Podrick, the noose around his thin neck, his legs twitching. Her mouth opened. Pod was kicking, choking,
dying.
Brienne sucked the air in desperately, even as the rope was strangling her. Nothing had ever hurt so much.
    She screamed a word.

CERSEI
    S epta Moelle was a white-haired harridan with a face as sharp as an axe and lips pursed in perpetual disapproval.
This one still has her maidenhead, I’ll wager,
Cersei thought,
though by now it’s hard and stiff as boiled leather.
Six of the High Sparrow’s knights escorted her, with the rainbow sword of their reborn order emblazoned on their kite shields.
    â€œSepta.” Cersei sat beneath the Iron Throne, clad in green silk and golden lace. “Tell his High Holiness that we are vexed with him. He presumes too much.” Emeralds glimmered on her fingers and in her golden hair. The eyes of court and city were upon her, and she meant for them to see Lord Tywin’s daughter. By the time this mummer’s farce was done they would know they had but one true queen.
But first we must dance the dance and never miss a step.
“Lady Margaery is my son’s true and gentle wife, his helpmate and consort. His High Holiness had no cause to lay his hands upon her person, or to confine her and her young cousins, who are so dear to all of us. I demand that he release them.”
    Septa Moelle’s stern expression did not flicker. “I shall convey Your Grace’s words to His High Holiness, but it grieves me to say that the young queen and her ladies cannot be released until and unless their innocence has been proved.”
    â€œ
Innocence?
Why, you need only look upon their sweet young faces to see how innocent they are.”
    â€œA sweet face oft hides a sinner’s heart.”
    Lord Merryweather spoke up from the council table. “What offense have these young maids been accused of, and by whom?”
    The septa said, “Megga Tyrell and Elinor Tyrell stand accused of lewdness, fornication, and conspiracy to commit high treason. Alla Tyrell has been charged with witnessing their shame and helping them conceal it. All this Queen Margaery has also been accused of, as well as adultery and high treason.”
    Cersei put a hand to her breast. “Tell me who is spreading such calumnies about my good-daughter! I do not believe a word of this. My sweet son loves Lady Margaery with all his heart, she could never have been so cruel as to play him false.”
    â€œThe accuser is a knight of your own household. Ser Osney Kettleblack has confessed his carnal knowledge of the queen to the High Septon himself, before the altar of the Father.”
    At the council table Harys Swyft gasped, and Grand Maester Pycelle turned away. A buzz filled the air, as if a thousand wasps were loose in the throne room. Some of the ladies in the galleries began to slip away, followed by a stream of petty lords and knights from the back of the hall. The gold cloaks let them go, but the queen had instructed Ser Osfryd to make note of all who fled.
Suddenly the Tyrell rose does not smell so sweet.
    â€œSer Osney is young and lusty, I will grant you,” the queen said, “but a faithful knight for all that. If he says that he was part of this . . . no, it cannot be. Margaery is a maiden!”
    â€œShe is not. I examined her myself, at the behest of His High Holiness. Her maidenhead is not intact. Septa Aglantine and Septa Melicent will say the same, as will Queen Margaery’s own septa, Nysterica, who has been confined to a penitent’s cell for her part in the queen’s shame. Lady Megga and Lady Elinor were examined as well. Both were found to have been broken.”
    The wasps were growing so loud that the queen