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“I dream of it sometimes. Of Renly’s dying. A green tent, candles, a woman screaming. And blood. I was still abed when he died. Your Devan will tell you. He tried to wake me. Dawn was nigh and my lords were waiting, fretting. I should have been ahorse, armored. I knew Renly would attack at break of day. Devan says I thrashed and cried out, but what does it matter? It was a dream. I was in my tent when Renly died, and when I woke my hands were clean.” —Stannis Baratheon, to Davos Seaworth