"I could not have asked for a better mother for my children," Ned agrees softly, reaching out to allow his thumb to lightly trace itself across the plump of Sansa's cheek before shaking his head. "You give an old man far too much praise."

There is a light-heartedness in his words, but there is a devastating riptide underneath the seemingly calm current. He knows the guilt of having led them all down to King's Landing, of having torn his children away from the protective arms of their mother, will haunt him to the end of his days. He knows, somewhere in the rationality he still carries, that it seemed the proper thing to do at the time - Sansa needed to become familiar with the ways of the royal court, as did Arya. But if he could have known what awaited them in King's Landing ..

"You have grown to look more like than I ever could have imagined; I hope you wear that distinction with honor."