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"
She
must
be
killed
,
"
Lord
Renly
declared
.
"
We
have
no
choice
,
"
murmured
Varys
.
"
Sadly
,
sadly
...
"
Ser
Barristan
Selmy
raised
his
pale
blue
eyes
from
the
table
and
said
,
"
Your
Grace
,
there
is
honor
in
facing
an
enemy
on
the
battlefield
,
but
none
in
killing
him
in
his
mother
's
womb
.
Forgive
me
,
but
I
must
stand
with
Lord
Eddard
.
"
Grand
Maester
Pycelle
cleared
his
throat
,
a
process
that
seemed
to
take
some
minutes
.
"
My
order
serves
the
realm
,
not
the
ruler
.
Once
I
counseled
King
Aerys
as
loyally
as
I
counsel
King
Robert
now
,
so
I
bear
this
girl
child
of
his
no
ill
will
.
Yet
I
ask
you
this
--
should
war
come
again
,
how
many
soldiers
will
die
?
How
many
towns
will
burn
?
How
many
children
will
be
ripped
from
their
mothers
to
perish
on
the
end
of
a
spear
?
"
He
stroked
his
luxuriant
white
beard
,
infinitely
sad
,
infinitely
weary
.
"
Is
it
not
wiser
,
even
kinder
,
that
Daenerys
Targaryen
should
die
now
so
that
tens
of
thousands
might
live
?
"
"
Kinder
,
"
Varys
said
.
"
Oh
,
well
and
truly
spoken
,
Grand
Maester
.
It
is
so
true
.
Should
the
gods
in
their
caprice
grant
Daenerys
Targaryen
a
son
,
the
realm
must
bleed
.
"
Littlefinger
was
the
last
.
As
Ned
looked
to
him
,
Lord
Petyr
stifled
a
yawn
.
"
When
you
find
yourself
in
bed
with
an
ugly
woman
,
the
best
thing
to
do
is
close
your
eyes
and
get
on
with
it
,
"
he
declared
.
"
Waiting
wo
n't
make
the
maid
any
prettier
.
Kiss
her
and
be
done
with
it
.
"
"
Kiss
her
?
"
Ser
Barristan
repeated
,
aghast
.
"
A
steel
kiss
,
"
said
Littlefinger
.
Robert
turned
to
face
his
Hand
.
"
Well
,
there
it
is
,
Ned
.
You
and
Selmy
stand
alone
on
this
matter
.
The
only
question
that
remains
is
,
who
can
we
find
to
kill
her
?
"
"
Mormont
craves
a
royal
pardon
,
"
Lord
Renly
reminded
them
.
