The septa began the chant, a sing-song drone that cut through the noise.
For a heartbeat, she stayed there, on all fours, like a dog. She could feel the heat of the crowd’s hatred radiating toward her. She could lie down. Curl up. Let them drag her back to the sept. Let them kill her. cersei shame episode
A woman in the front row, a baker’s wife by the look of her flour-dusted apron, screamed, “That’s for my boy! The one your son had killed!” The septa began the chant, a sing-song drone
Walk.
“Your confession must be pure,” the High Sparrow intoned, his voice as dry as old parchment. “Shame is the soul’s bath.” She could lie down
Her hair, the golden banner of House Lannister, had been shorn to a patchy stubble. The sun, breaking through the clouds, seemed to mock the bald, mottled skin of her scalp. She was not a queen. She was not a lion. She was a plucked bird, pale and thin and utterly, terrifyingly breakable.