No, I—

[His gaze drops as he collects himself; there is, for just a moment, an uncharacteristic vehemence in his voice as he tries to articulate himself and, briefly, fails. He has never been a man who has struggled with words, and while he has not had so much to drink that he can truly blame it for this moment of boldness, he reaches out to lay a hand against her wrist, as though it will better command her attention, better convey his meaning.]

It is not about having been a lord, or what took place then— not only.

[Because of course, he cannot leave that behind, he cannot and will not forget what had come to pass, because it would be a disservice to the very people he had sworn to protect both then and now if he did so— but it is not guilt or a desire for forgiveness or atonement that drive him now, not entirely.]

I would bear anything for you because— you remind me of what is worth changing things for. You always have. You have always shown those around you the best of what the human spirit has to offer, what kindness can achieve.