[ he wonders, and yet his reasoning is faulty: instead of deciding on the why, for her, only the end result matters. whether he did it for himself, or for his House, or for any number of reasons, the fact remains: he did save the people, save more people from being burned to death by a king whose reason had abandoned him, or had perhaps never been there for him in the first place. she won't contest that, will admit it freely. the consequences of one's actions are what matter, as do the actions themselves.

the why is there only if you want to understand the person, and in this case, she doesn't have much desire for that.

but he keeps speaking, and were he to see her face, he would see her confused frown, the way her mouth tilts downward as she tries to understand a story that seems nothing but strange to her. the only way she can make sense of it is... if it's what's happening with Theon, what happened with Stannis. two sets of stories just as true, two sets of Westeroses where they happened.

he'll never believe me, she thinks, someone else will have to tell him. ]

The Hound would never hurt me, [ she says instead, with steady conviction, because no matter the world, it was a truth she was always certain of.

after a pause, a long one that she spends deliberating, she adds, ]

My sworn sword speaks highly of you, ser. And you're right, I don't trust you, but I do trust Lady Brienne. For her sake, I'll believe in you.