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Summary
He’d meant nothing to her before that night. Even when she’d seen his face, deep pitted scars marring half of it, she hadn’t been scared. His voice, so rough and deep, smoothed over her, whispering soft words.
“Little bird, I’m so sorry.”
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After the murder of her parents Sansa can’t shake the memory of the officer who was there for her that night. Burning of the Blackwater-esque.
