“Oh, gods! You’re alive!”
The voice was faint, far away, but Jaime recognized it as he would recognize no other.
Tyrion. It was Tyrion.
Had Tyrion died too?
The acrid sting of tears pricked the backs of Jaime’s eyes at the thought that his little brother had died right along with him and Cersei. Tyrion had always been the best of them. If anyone had deserved to live, it was Tyrion. Jaime wished there was something he could do to save his little brother, but he knew it was already too late. There was nothing either of them could do now.
Clackety, clackety, clack. The sound of bricks hitting stone grew faster, more frenzied, more urgent.
Jaime tried to draw in another breath, and thankfully, this time, he didn’t choke on it.
“Stay calm.” Tyrion’s voice sounded closer this time. “I’m going to get you out of there. Stay with me, Jaime. Please.”
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