One time, when Brea took to her bed with her moon blood. There's no harm in him bedding her. Words are wind, Victarion told them, and the only good wind is that which fills our sails. Four small words, yet the sea itself trembled when he uttered them.
An hour before first light, by the lichyard. Instead, she presumes to tell her rightful queen what she must do. That made him wince. May your wife give you strong sons.