Half of Winter

Stannis Baratheon has survived wars, sieges, pitched battles and skirmishes and worse, but nothing has made him feel as lost and out of place and unnerved as this very moment.

The little pink infant in the crib sleeps peacefully, wrapped in furs, and her wrists are innocently blank. For an irrational moment, Stannis envies her, then he straightens up and turns away. Winterfell is warm, somehow - some sort of piped system, apparently - and his gloves are tucked into his belt, baring the pale silver script on the underside of his right wrist: Sansa Stark.