"Quite a large turnout," Rolph said, clutching his gift (a rare dagger he'd acquired in the previous war).
"Indeed," agreed Jorg. "We've come out in droves to honor our new, brave king."
"Hey," Danyul said.
"I do hope this king is a merciful king."
"Hey."
"Yes, merciful and fair, not unlike his father."
The gentlemen tried to politely ignore Danyul, but he was from somewhere between the Wall to the North and all of those hoards of zombies and mutants, where grace and social etiquette are not only not taught but actively frowned upon.
"Hey, you guys, it's me, Danyul."
"I'm sure whatever way our king decides to rule will be the right way," Mertha offered, in an attempt to block Danyul's conversational stampede.
"We totally have to kill that kid, you guys."
There was a long silence.
"It's me, Danyul."
"We know who you are," Rolph said in a hasty whisper, "stop introducing yourself. What you speak of is treason."
"Right, and I'm WAY against treason. You're not going to find a dude more against treason than me. Ask anyone 'Who hates treason?' and they'll tell you: this guy." Danyul punctuated that last point by using both of his thumbs to indicate himself.
"Then why would you suggest regicide?"
"Well, I'm against treason, and I'm also against judging a book by its cover, and I'm ALSO against murdering children ... but seriously, look at that fucking kid. Again, I'm not an advocate of harming children, but if there's any kid in the world who, at face value, was clearly evil, it's that kid, right there. Lord Children of the Corn, His Holiness of the Aryan Brotherhood, or whatever."
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"You only say that because he had the good Ned Stark executed," Mertha said.
"He did that? This is the first I've heard of it. I actually don't know anything about this kid, I just ... I mean, look at him. He sucks. And he's objectively evil-looking. If I had to design someone to be the embodiment of slimy evil, he's the guy I'd design. He looks like if vanity, smugness and blond hair had a baby. He's what entitled douchebags bow and pray to at dawn. At all times he looks like he just can't wait to go home and smell his own poop. Slimy, slimy little twerp, I hate him."
"Sssssurely he doesn't have the market cornered on sssslime, does he?" asked Varys from the shadows.
"Oh, Christ, seriously screw you, Varys."
For more from Dan, check out My Brief Time as a Student at Hogwarts and If 'Twilight' Was About Dragons (And Contained More Fisting).
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