To maintain his "divinity," Gryn let his gaze fall upon Dacey's collarbone, where tiny glimmers of light lay hidden in its shallow hollow, before raising his eyes to meet hers again.
It truly was rare. Gryn agreed with that inwardly.
"What I want is Stark's guarantee."
Splash, splash.
Accompanied by the sound of running water, droplets slowly traced the contours of his body as Gryn stepped out of the still-steaming bathtub.
"Your Majesty—"
Gryn waved a hand casually. Making no move to dry the water from his body, he pulled down the black robe hanging nearby and draped it directly over himself.
He walked slowly to the fireplace in the bathing chamber and sat down, raising a hand to point at the empty wooden chair opposite him. "Please, sit."
Dacey snapped back to herself in slight panic. She set down the towel in her hand, then picked up the king's wine cup, only for his voice to continue. "What Lady Catelyn is more worried about is her own husband. She knows very well that, to Lord Ned, honor stands above all else."
As she walked, Dacey's steps faltered slightly.
The firelight flickered. She handed over the golden goblet, her voice carrying a trace of caution. "Yes, Your Majesty. Lord Stark could never tolerate the thousands of years of glory belonging to House Stark being once again—"
As she spoke, Dacey pressed her lips together and swallowed the rest of her words.
Once the gleaming goblet had fallen into the king's hand, she did not move away. Instead, she bent her knees and knelt before him, lifting her chin slightly. "House Mormont is the same, and I am Mormont's sinner."
Gryn met her eyes and slowly nodded. "That's right. You were merely a sword, but the one who wielded it died,