[Gwayne points his sword at Ser Criston]
Ser Gwayne Hightower: Do you think nothing of your oath, Lord Commander?
Ser Criston Cole: I think of nothing else, my lord.
Ser Gwayne Hightower: [disdainfully] Steward's son from Dorne, fucking the queen of the Seven Kingdoms.
Ser Criston Cole: Former queen. She has broken no oath, for all I may have done.
Ser Gwayne Hightower: I could send you to the Wall.
Ser Criston Cole: You could. Stain the Hightower name for a generation. King's mother and his Hand.
Ser Gwayne Hightower: She is my sister.
Ser Criston Cole: She saved my life. Twice. Once from the headsman's axe and once from myself. Since then, she has been the beacon I follow.
[a pause; Gwayne lowers his sword]
Ser Criston Cole: Do not think I have no shame in me, ser. Desire for women has brought me grief after grief.
Ser Gwayne Hightower: Then resist it.
Ser Criston Cole: [chuckles] Oh, would that it was so simple.
Ser Gwayne Hightower: Your brothers in the Kingsguard find a way.
Ser Criston Cole: Do they? Mm, perhaps they do. Or perhaps all men are corrupt... and true honor is a mist that melts in the morning.
Ser Gwayne Hightower: That is a bleak philosophy.
Ser Criston Cole: I have no philosophy. Or rather, my philosophy was this.
[Criston draws his sword]
Ser Criston Cole: To protect the righteous and dispense justice on the rest. And now... you saw what I saw. The dragons dance and men are like dust under their feet. And all our fine thoughts, all our... endeavors are as nothing. We march now toward our annihilation. To die will be a kind of relief. Don't you think?
