Neither tattoo nor name mean anything to Ned, but he can put it together with her story and alleged crime and piece out what it means. He shakes his head. "Of all things to punish a woman for, that must be the worst. You have suffered for things that were no crimes. Slavery - trapped in such work - it is condemned by my gods."

Without comment, he listens to her name her other sins. He had come here today to reproach, not hear confessions, yet he finds himself in the oddest position of playing confidante to his son's bedwarmer. (After fucking her on the counter ten feet away, no less.)

It is the most recent crime that earns a low, short exhale. It is a small thing, amongst that list, but the one that hits closest to home, of course. Ned's hand curls at her shoulder. "No," he says quietly. "All of them redeemable. I forgive what is mine to forgive."