To epitomize the world in which we live, we must first step back and remember that we are flawed.
But to understand the world in which we live, we must recognize that man realizes just this: the good exploit the flaws and the wicked jeopardize their...
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"My lord," Stannis's breath hitches and his jaw clenches at the voice of Davos Seaworth from behind him as he pulls the saddle from the horse and hands it to one of the brothers of the Night's Watch.
"I am not your 'lord' anymore," Stannis growls without turning to this ally of his and friend of many years. "I've forsaken my claim to the crown in order to keep my life.
"And your daughter?
Stannis knew it was coming, but in the end he still flinches and freezes as he stares into the hide of the horse before grunting, "Dead. And Selyse. Everyone except me." Suddenly, the man turns about to face Davos, blue eyes adamant in what he commands, "I am not asking you to forgive me for my errors. I am not asking for you to understand why I did what I did. I am not asking you for your sword. I am asking you to forget all that I intended and to follow Jon Snow forward."
"Not Lady Stark?" Davos asks with raised eyebrows.
"Where Lady Sansa goes, Jon will follow," Stannis reminds him. "It's the Northern way."
But as ever before, Davos sees past the firm composure of his previous lord to see the irritation beneath. "And Lady Baelish? What about her? Last you spoke of her--"
"I was honest about many things: how she's manipulative and fierce. But I've come to see now that she's loyal to the Starks and to the rightful ideals. Unlike her father," the man grunts again before walking away.
But Davos calls after him, "So, House Baratheon pledges for House Stark?"
Stannis pauses in his escape, back straightening into his full and tall posture before he turns his head, and not his body, to Davos Seaworth. "House Baratheon pledges for House Stark."
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Gabrielle could not remember the last time she sat by a fire to simply enjoy the heat rather than to deafen eavesdroppers to her intentions. She supposes it was in Winterfell five years ago, or so she remembers, as she passes her fingers through the lengths of Ghost and Summer's fur, both particularly enamoured with her—as much as the other three who rest around the remainder of her body. Looking at them piled together, her heart swoons at the reunion she made possible--five here and only one missing like the Starks are still alive and not butchered across the middle of the country.
"This is good soup. Do you remember those kidney pies Old Nan used to make?" Sansa reminds Jon of their times in Winterfell.
"With the peas and onions?" he questions in response, and she mutters the affirmative with a small sound in her throat. Jon smiles at the quirk in her, and how much she's grown in their years apart: a truly beautiful woman with obvious strength. But all the same, he'd wished he could have been there to see her grow, to save her from the wickedness down South—voicing as much, "We never should have left Winterfell."
