"The bucks," he replied. "Stags. You might be wise to not speak so boldly of it. The Baratheons rule Westeros and use the stag as their sigil."

It was a jest on his part, though a weak one at that. He turned away from her and found a clean trencher of water to clean the blood from his hands. And this is why I never became a maester. Nevermind that my father would have never allowed it.