He remembered the bitter humiliation he had felt when a classmate had joked about the chocolate that he had supposedly fallen into. He remembered the kids who had followed him home, making sneering imitations of Indian music. He remembered movies like Indiana Jones and the Temple of Doom, how everyone had asked him whether he ate chilled monkey brains. He remembered flinching every time he saw Apu on the Simpsons. He remembered the constant complaining, sometimes even from teachers, about immigrants and how they all soaked up welfare and stole jobs simultaneously.There were the stories of Sri Lanka he had grown up with — of how Sinhalese mobs, death lists in their hands, went from house to house, rioting, killing, burning Tamils to death. He had seen the pictures of his grandparents' homes, piles of rubble, entire streets with smashed houses and burned fields. He remembered the TV images of the thousands who lay dead on the beaches when the war reached its bloody end. His family had. He could not reunite with his wife and child, whether he wished to or not, as that would risk his freedom and his life, but I could find a new place to put him where he would be safe.Rushing past the guards with the aid of my vampire nest, I left a lot of bodies in my wake before I found the keys and Edmure’s cell. He looked rough, the Lord of Riverrun did, but that was to be expected after years of captivity, much as Ser Jamie Lannister fresh from imprisonment by the Starks. His eyes had trouble adjusting to the better light of the torches carried by my nest. His voice was weak and trembling, but he used it, anyway.“Lord Edmure Tully, look at me. Come with us. Don’t question me. Just come with us,” I glamored Edmure and led him out of the cell before clicking the remote to escape before the Frey guards could sound an alarm.I then immediately took Edmure with us to Winterfell, reuniting him with his niece, Sansa Stark, and his nephew, Rickon Stark. Sansa looked up with real shock and.
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