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〃There's to be so much； my lord。 I have a little tummy。〃 She fiddled nervously with her hair and looked down the table to where Joffrey sat with his Tyrell queen。
Does she wish it were her in Margaery's place？ Tyrion frowned。 Even a child should have better sense。 He turned away； wanting distraction； but everywhere he looked were women； fair fine beautiful happy women who belonged to other men。 Margaery； of course； smiling sweetly as she and Joffrey shared a drink from the great seven…sided wedding chalice。 Her mother Lady Alerie； silver…haired and handsome； still proud beside Mace Tyrell。 The queen's three young cousins； bright as birds。 Lord Merryweather's dark…haired Myrish wife with her big black sultry eyes。 Ellaria Sand among the Dornishmen （Cersei had placed them at their own table； just below the dais in a place of high honor but as far from the Tyrells as the width of the hall would allow）； laughing at something the Red Viper had told her。
And there was one woman； sitting almost at the foot of the third table on the left 。 。 。 the wife of one of the Fossoways； he thought； and heavy with his child。 Her delicate beauty was in no way diminished by her belly； nor was her pleasure in the food and frolics。 Tyrion watched as her husband fed her morsels off his plate。 They drank from the same cup； and would kiss often and unpredictably。 Whenever they did； his hand would gently rest upon her stomach； a tender and protective gesture。
He wondered what Sansa would do if he leaned over and kissed her right now。 Flinch away； most likely。 Or be brave and suffer through it； as was her duty。 She is nothing if not dutiful； this wife of mine。 If he told her that he wished to have her maidenhead tonight； she would suffer that dutifully as well； and weep no more than she had to。
He called for more wine。 By the time he got it； the second course was being served； a pastry coffyn filled with pork； pine nuts； and eggs。 Sansa ate no more than a bite of hers； as the heralds were summoning the first of the seven singers。
Grey…bearded Hamish the Harper announced that he would perform 〃for the ears of gods and men； a song ne'er heard before in all the Seven Kingdoms。〃 He called it 〃Lord Renly's Ride。〃
His fingers moved across the strings of the high harp； filling the throne room with sweet sound。 〃From his throne of bones the Lord of Death looked down on the murdered lord；〃 Hamish began； and went on to tell how Renly； repenting his attempt to usurp his nephew's crown； had defied the Lord of Death himself and crossed back to the land of the living to defend the realm against his brother。
And for this poor Symon wound up in a bowl of brown； Tyrion mused。 Queen Margaery was teary…eyed by the end； when the shade of brave Lord Renly flew to Highgarden to steal one last look at his true love's face。 〃Renly Baratheon never repented of anything in his life；〃 the Imp told Sansa； 〃but if I'm any judge； Hamish just won himself a gilded lute。〃
The Harper also gave them several more familiar songs。 〃A Rose of Gold〃 was for the Tyrells； no doubt； as 〃The Rains of Castamere〃 was meant to flatter his father。 〃Maiden； Mother； and Crone〃 delighted the High Septon； and 〃My Lady Wife〃 pleased all the little girls with romance in their hearts； and no doubt some little boys as well。 Tyrion listened with half a ear； as he sampled sweetcorn fritters and hot oatbread baked with bits of date； apple； and orange； and gnawed on the rib of a wild boar。
Thereafter dishes and diversions succeeded one another in a staggering profusion； buoyed along upon a flood of wine and ale。 Hamish left them； his place taken by a smallish elderly bear who danced clumsily to pipe and drum while the wedding guests ate trout cooked in a crust of crushed almonds。 Moon Boy mounted his stilts and strode around the tables in pursuit of Lord Tyrell's ludicrously fat fool Butterbumps； and the lords and ladies sampled roast herons and cheese…and…onion pies。 A troupe of Pentoshi tumblers performed cartwheels and handstands； balanced platters on their bare feet； and stood upon each other's shoulders to form a pyramid。 Their feats were acpanied by crabs boiled in fiery eastern spices； trenchers filled with chunks of chopped mutton stewed in almond milk with carrots； raisins； and onions； and fish tarts fresh from the ovens； served so hot they burned the fingers。
Then the heralds summoned another singer； Collio Quaynis of Tyrosh； who had a vermilion beard and an accent as ludicrous as Symon had promised。 Collio began with his version of 〃The Dance of the Dragons；〃 which was more properly a song for two singers； male and female。 Tyrion suffered through it with a double helping of honey…ginger partridge and several cups of wine。 A haunting ballad of two dying lovers amidst the Doom of Valyria might have pleased the hall more if Collio had not sung it in High Valyrian； which most of the guests could not speak。 But 〃Bessa the Barmaid〃 won them back with its ribald lyrics。 Peacocks were served in their plumage； roasted whole and stuffed with dates； while Collio summoned a drummer； bowed low before Lord Tywin； and launched into 〃The Rains of Castamere。〃
If I have to hear seven versions of that； I may go down to Flea Bottom and apologize to the stew。 Tyrion turned to his wife。 〃So which did you prefer？〃
Sansa blinked at him。 〃My lord？〃
〃The singers。 Which did you prefer？〃
；'I 。 。 。 I'm sorry； my lord。 I was not listening。〃
She was not eating； either。 〃Sansa； is aught amiss？〃 He spoke without thinking； and instantly felt the fool。 All her kin are slaughtered and she's wed to me； and I wonder what's amiss。
〃No； my lord。〃 She looked away from him； and feigned an unconvincing interest in Moon Boy pelting Ser Dontos with dates。
Four master pyromancers conjured up beasts of living flame to tear at each other with flery claws whilst the serving men ladeled out bowls of blandissory； a mixture of beef broth and boiled wine sweetened with honey and dotted with blanched almonds and chunks of capon。 Then came some strolling pipers and clever dogs and sword swallowers； with buttered pease； chopped nuts； and slivers of swan poached in a sauce of saffron and peaches。 （〃Not swan again；〃 Tyrion muttered； remembering his supper with his sister on the eve of battle。） A juggler kept a half…dozen swords and axes whirling through the air as skewers of blood sausage were brought sizzling to the tables； a juxtaposition that Tyrion thought passing clever； though not perhaps in the best of taste。
The heralds blew their trumpets。 〃To sing for the golden lute；〃 one cried； 〃we give you Galyeon of Cuy。〃
Galyeon was a big barrel…chested man with a black beard； a bald head； and a thunderous voice that filled every corner of the throne room。 He brought no fewer than six musicians to play for him。 〃Noble lords and ladies fair； I sing but one song for you this night；〃 he announced。 〃It is the song of the Blackwater； and how a realm was saved。〃 The drummer began a slow ominous beat。
〃The dark lord broodedhigh in his tower；〃 Galyeon began； 〃in a castle as black as the night。〃
〃Black was his hair and black was his soul；〃 the musicians chanted in unison。 A flute came in。
〃He feasted on bloo