“ -You misunderstand me, Ser. I may have
fewer years behind me than the men you
surround yourselves with, but I refer instead
to the innocent youthfulness of the child; there
was a time before we all became so jaded, and
if you remembered it at all you would realise
that, in their eyes, they have done no wrong.”
The little one they spoke of stood hunched to the
side, tiny arms in the harsh grip of the kingsguard even as tears
dripped sorrowfully down his cheeks. He had stolen a loaf of bread
and some marbles from the market, and, upon his capture, had made
a rather cheeky comment about one of his captors’ noses; the poor thing
could hardly be blamed, starving and utterly bored as he was. Besides,
the nose in question was twisted into an incredibly odd shape. Having
seen the children of that family around King’s Landing before, always
alone, Violet had long assumed that their mother was trapped in one
of the city’s many whorehouses and that any little indiscretions were
necessary to fill their bellies.
The knights patrolling the streets clearly saw things
as more black and white.
“ -As you say, we were all young once, and one
cannot be young without being foolish. Let the
boy go- his sister cries for him, and for the food
that was taken from him upon his arrest. I would
suggest you send him home with dinner.”