Janos Slynt: May I congratulate you on your victory over the savages. The singers will make much of it, I know -
Stannis Baratheon: The singers may do as they like. Spare me your fawning, Janos, it will not serve you.
Bowen Marsh: Sire, no one has achieved two-thirds of the vote yet. It has only been ten days.
Stannis Baratheon: Nine days too long.
Bowen Marsh: Who better to command the black cloaks than a man who once commanded the gold, sire.
Stannis Baratheon: Any of you, I would think. Even the cook.
Maester Aemon: Your Grace, before we go, I wonder if you would do us the great honor of showing us this wondrous blade we have all heard so very much of.
Stannis Baratheon: You want to see Lightbringer? A blind man?
Stannis Baratheon: You are not the sort of son I would expect such a man to have
Samwell Tarly: I am not the sort of son he wanted, sire.
Stannis Baratheon: If you had not taken the black, you would make a useful hostage.