What was he in the eyes of gods and men? In the eyes of a god he had made use of but had trouble believing. In the eyes of men who claimed to fight for him but in truth were fighting for others – R'hllor, the North, Ned Stark. A king who sat on no throne except one of his own making, carved from his unshakeable notion of right and duty. A purported promised savior wielding a cold, cold sword, colder than his own heart.
What was he in the eyes of a knight? In the eyes of a knight holding on desperately to his finger bones for dear life. A lord, a king, a man owed loyalty. A man owed honest counsel and the truth, as harsh and bitter as it may be.
What was he in the eyes of a priestess? In the eyes of a priestess with convictions stronger than his own. Her lord's chosen, her god's weapon against the darkness and the night that never ends. A man who was hers to wield, as she and her god were his to wield.
What was he in the eyes of a wife? In the eyes of a wife wielding power of her own, through her family and the god she chose and the priestess she brought into their midst. A man who could rise and rise, if only he was willing and ready. A coldness chillier than the wind beyond the Wall, but one she was resigned to, familiar and recognizable as it was.
What was he in the eyes of a daughter? In the eyes of a daughter said to be a sadder child than he had been. A story heard from the lips of others. A breeze that passed too quickly to be felt or understood.
What was he in the eyes of a brother? In the eyes of a brother whose untimely death set the motion for war and bloodshed. The man who said 'No', the chastiser, the scolder, the lecturer. The blood brother who was less of a brother than a cherished man from the North.
What was he in the eyes of a little brother? In the eyes of a little brother who still haunted his dreams, night after endless night. A source of endless mockery and laughs. A fatal shadow passing through the night.
What was he in the eyes of a maester? In the eyes of a maester who loved him best of all, among the three brothers. A boy who lived in his brother's eternal shadow, a shadow that never lifted even with the brother's death. A man who deserved better, much better, than the life he lived.
What was he in the eyes of a bastard? In the eyes of a bastard he had dangled Winterfell and the prospect of legitimacy to. A man claiming to be king, among many claiming the same; but the only one who had answered when the Black Brothers called.
What was he in the eyes of a prisoner? In the eyes of a prisoner who was willing to bend the knee, temporarily, if it meant she would live to fight another day. A captor she wished to escape and dreamed about killing. A man supremely uncomfortable in the company of women, harsh or gentle. A mystery, an enigma that nevertheless piqued her interest.
What was he in his own eyes? The man he always was, the man he had always been, the man he would always be, he insisted steadfastly, adamantly. But if he had lost faith in many things, he had lost faith in that most of all.