[ he took arya to the twins and witnessed— oh. oh, robb. her poor brother. she mourns him as much as she mourns his stupidity; did he truly think the freys would have allowed him to break his oath without making him pay? she loathes the betrayal deeply, she curses the walder frey in her mind to this day, but robb could have been smarter. he could have been more careful. he didn't need to die, just as mother hadn't needed to die, and arya–

had she seen it? had she seen how they took robb's head and tore grey wind's own? she would weep, but she's cried enough. she had given all the tears she has left to jon, who had died and confessed it to her.

she can handle this. sansa breathes in the sharp winter air and lets it pierce her lungs; the pain is a reminder. ]

I had fled the Eyrie by then. I was there but not for too long, and after Aunt Lysa had died it was too dangerous for me to stay, even if the Lords of the Vale knew who I was. Lord Baelish had his designs.

[ had they meant to head north? good that they didn't, then. ]

Thank you. Truly, I thank you for watching over her like you'd looked out for me.

[ you give us a kindness when others have turned us away — and you say you're not a knight. ]

Will you sit, please? For me?