[It's not a guarantee, and that wrenches at Koby's chest, fear thrumming in the butterfly-quick beat of his heart, pulsing in his throat, in the ragged edges of bitten-close nails. But nothing is guaranteed -- not their survival, not their safety, not their own minds and bodies. They have no control, and that childish part of Koby wants to insist that it isn't fair, like Alicent hasn't lived longer and seen much more injustice. He remembers the hasty math of her age and that of her children. He remembers himself at that age.

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, where if you were my boy is curled up warm and comforting, like a sleeping cat, Koby wonders: what if I'd been something else? What if I'd been what I am, but yours instead? What would you have done?

He puts the thought out of his mind, glances down at her hands, thoughtfully.] I don't know. I trust -- a lot of people, but I also believe this place can make us do terrible things, things we wouldn't do. It can make even the most wonderful, kind, caring person into a monster. [The name in his mind is the same, and he shoves it away violently, firmly, even as he opens the possibility that it could be anyone, anyone.

Then he looks up, red-rimmed eyes serious, intent. He doesn't look young and fearful and fragile, like he had even moments ago.] If it comes to it, if the evidence is there against someone I love, or...or even me, you need to follow logic, again. Don't think of it as a betrayal. Think of it as saving someone from themselves, before this place can hurt them anymore.

And I'll look. [Red, orange, pink. A man in a mask the color of sunsets. A man who may not know his own monstrosity until its too late.] I won't give up until we're all safe again.