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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Their daggers plunging deep into the corruption of King's Landing, the little birds do not sing like they once did but twist with their own corruption as the blood of Grand Maester Pycelle slips across the floor and leaves nothing behind but another slab of death.
As her call to leave echoes about the room and the nobles stir into a frenzy, Margaery races to the broken-Loras on the side, grabbing her brother in her arms as his blue eyes meet her own as she commands of him what she needs, "Loras. Stay with me."
The Queen begins moving the two of them up the steps and through the people, pressing forward and to the exit at the height above them, only to be tightly constrained by the widened arms of the Faith Militant as they prevent the exit of all patrons to this hearing. Without constraint but self-preservation, Margaery commands them, "Let me through. Let me through. Get out of my way."
She begins to shove against their arms and call louder as the High Sparrow eyes the men and women from the center of court, confused by the spectacle. And though her screaming continues and there is no hourglass to reduce the seconds to none, Margaery turns in those last moments to lock eyes on the remorseful High Sparrow just as the floor blows out beneath them and they are eaten in the green flame of wildfire.
It's just a whisper in his bodily ear, but Tommen hears the messenger's words clearly and sees out that window—the proof of her death. Staring silently and without feeling, he then turns from the portal as his hands reach up and remove his crown, stepping to the corner of his room where the table of his youth still sits with paint marks from Myrcella and his games. Placing it down on the old red wood, he turns back and moves with thought, stepping up and into the sill of his window before letting the winds take him as he finally feels the impact of the crown no longer.
"When we had feasts, our family would sit up here," Jon reminisces as he lets his hands trace down the side of his father's chair before rising to point at the exit, "...and I'd sit down there."
"Could have been worse, Jon Snow. You had a family. You had feasts," the Red Witch reminds him of all that he had—even as the lesser of the bunch.
Chuckling, he responds, "Aye, you're right. I was luckier than most."
The doors creak open at Davos's entrance, Jon's eyes rising before Melisandre's, and yet she manages to catch the piece of wood that he tosses at her—recognizing it, all at once. Her skin blanches in realization, and Jon steps forward to look at the lump of wood, "What is that?"
