"It goes on forever." Her speech was different - cleaner, the vowels rounder. Her face crumpled, and she held her fingers to her lips, taking a deep breath, then another. "Why can't any of them-" She swallowed a breath, and then even with tears in her eyes and being all blotchy and red, she looked up at him to thank him. Every movement polite, every word chosen carefully, she continued. "This is more beautiful than I could ever have dreamed. Thank you."

She wished they could see this - that her father could stare out at the universe and see that there was so much more than the world they did inhabit, that their sky was nothing compared to this. He had died for what? For honor? He had died because of her, she had realised sometime later. She didn't even remember when - after the mob, most likely, but before she was Alayne, she realised that Eddard Stark had died because of a multitude of things, but the sword had fallen because of her.

And he would never see this.

She did not know how, and did not know why she began to weep, why she was crying for Eddard and Robb and Catelyn and Bran and Rickon; for Ser Dontos and Ser Loras and for Arya and more than anything in that moment, for Sansa Stark. For the girl who would never exist again, the way she had.

She turned away from him, hugging herself, her head bent as she tried to stop herself, but she could not, and could not speak to apologize.