CONTENT WARNING: Explicit physical violence

"Shit," Hilena swore under her breath. She lowered her longbow, relaxing her grip on the string, but kept an arrow nocked. The tawny stag she was chasing bounded off further into the Wolfswood. The girl of five-and-ten left her crouched position from behind a bush, eyeing the animal as she moved. Eventually, it stopped, swerving its head around in a panic, but stayed put. Hilena approached closer as the stag nibbled at the grass, the girl finding a spot behind an ironwood tree.

She stepped out from behind the tree, bringing her bow up again, arrow ready. Perfect. Hilena deftly drew her arm back, the bowstring going taut as she brought her hand against her face. The commoner scrutinized the stag, aiming for the backside of the front leg.

Hilena released the arrow. It whistled in the air and pierced the stag's heart. The animal stumbled, then keeled over, dying rapidly and painlessly.

Yes! I haven't got a stag before. The girl put her bow across herself and sprinted over to the carcass. Thank the gods it isn't fully grown, though that would give more meat. Hilena knelt, plucking the arrow from the deer and returning it to her quiver. Delicately, she grabbed the animal by its legs and began to drag it. After I get this to the butcher's, it'll feed more people than anything I've got before has.

Suddenly, the blast of a horn rang through the forest, followed by distant shouting and the stomping of horses. The girl stood up shakily. Why did no one tell me about a hunting party?

Hilena started retracing her steps back to her horse Jenny, trying to go as fast as possible without harming her valuable kill. Get back to the river. The noises of horns, men, and horses continued to resound throughout the forest. Soon enough she caught sight of her chestnut mare, peacefully standing by a soldier pine.

"Who goes there?" Hilena froze in place upon hearing the booming voice and whipped her head in its direction. Some yards away sat an armored man atop a mud brown courser, a hunting spear in hand. He wore no helmet, his dark grey hair and beard slick with sweat. His pale blue eyes stared daggers at her.

Oh no.

"My lord, what is it?" Another deep voice called out, but Hilena recognized this one, relief washing over her as the man approached on a snow-white mare.

"Lord Stark." The girl bowed towards the highborn. Eddard Stark appeared now how Hilena had known him all her life. Solemn, yet kind eyes, and finely dressed, all with an air of steely honor. When the commoner returned to standing, there were more mounted men gathered around.

"Hilena," Eddard Stark replied, then turned to the man on the courser. "Lord Tallhart, what's wrong? She's just the master of horse's girl." I forgot there were visitors. At Lord Stark's invitation, the Tallharts of Torrhen's Square came to Winterfell recently. I put their horses away. I suppose a hunting party makes sense.

"Just? Look at that deer. Who gave her permission to hunt in these woods?" The other lord spat out, further narrowing his eyes at her. "And what kind of girl hunts?" The man let out a large huff. "And a member of the smallfolk, nonetheless. Seems to me, she's a poacher."

Dread instantaneously filled Hilena at the word.

"I'm no poacher, m'lord," she countered, trying to stay calm and polite, "I swear it, m'lord."

"These woods are your lord's land, girl. They are not for the likes of you to be in," Lord Tallhart retorted back, "That makes you a poacher. Give that deer to your lord."

"M'lord, please, this stag is for everyone in Winterfell. It will feed families lowborn and high for weeks—" Hilena stopped talking as the other lord dismounted his horse and started approaching her. The Others take me.

"Lord Helman—"

"Do you know the punishments for poaching? I have one in mind," the Tallhart aggressively interrupted Ned Stark, stopping to tower over the girl, his expression livid. To Hilena's horror, the man drew a dirk from his belt. "Losing a hand." The angry visage of the lord filled Hilena's vision, the glint of his dagger blinding her as fear blurred away all else.

"MY LORD!" Lord Stark's commanding yell resonated through the forest, but it was too late.

Lord Tallhart lunged for her right arm, bringing Hilena to the ground on top of her bow, and stabbing into her back. The arrows in her quiver spilled out with a dull clatter.

"STOP! GET OFF ME!" she shrieked, biting back the pain wracking her body. Fruitlessly, the girl kicked and punched him with her free limbs. Other men started to shout, to whoop, horses snorted and pounded at the ground. "PLEASE MERCY, M'LORD, PLEASE! LORD STARK! LORD STARK, MERCY!" Tears pricked the girl's eyes and she clenched them shut, her mind a tirade of thoughts, none of them even coming to fruition as the world became a cacophony of sound and anguish.

The weight on her disappeared along with a scream, "WHY YOU BASTARD!" Hilena's eyes shot open in surprise, shocked that the lord was nowhere to be seen. The commoner dragged herself backward as quickly as she could. Her heart seized when she saw who yelled and who attacked Lord Helman. You fucking idiot.

Her older brother had brought the lord down on his back. With the first swing of a fist, a horrible crunch. With the second, blood sprayed. Guards began surrounding Harwin and the other man, trying to pull Hilena's brother off of the lord. What are you doing? Her brother finally got dragged off of Lord Tallhart, though it took several men to even slightly immobilize him.

"Stop," the word came out strangled and desperate, Hilena having forced it from her throat. "Stop, all of you, stop!" The girl stumbled to her feet, wrangled her longbow off of herself, and sprinted over to Harwin. "Let him go!" she shouted, grabbing at a guardsman's arm.

The backhand laid across Hilena's cheek sent her sprawling once again. Hot and biting pain began gnawing at her face. Wet tears formed in her eyes as Harwin got hauled away. I just wanted to get food for everyone. Shock locked her to the dirt ground.

"YOU'LL BE HANGED FOR THIS! How dare you attack me!" It was likely Lord Tallhart that said that but Hilena's ears rang and distorted the yelling. "A night in the dungeons should do, hm? Then to the gallows in the morning." No, was all the girl could think.

"You can't," she whispered meekly, then swallowing her fear and propping herself up on her elbows. "You can't," the commoner affirmed, the ringing in her ears receding. Harwin was nowhere in sight, and Lord Helman had remounted his courser. The man's face bore fresh bruises, his lip split and an eye swollen. Across his lap lay the young stag, the corpse mushed and damaged. He's ruined the meat, she thought numbly, Can't eat that.

"We will hold a feast," the visiting lord declared, ignoring the girl's pleas, "And we shall serve this." He roughly patted the stag. "As a victory of our hunt, Lord Stark." You can't eat that.

"Who do you think you are to make commands here?" Ned snapped back, his voice severe yet unwavering, "You are my guest but you do not serve justice in Winterfell. My guard will not hang. Order your men to release him." Hilena brought her gaze to Eddard Stark, still seated high upon his ivory mare.

"I humbly beg your forgiveness, my lord," the other lord groveled, failing to hide his anger, "But this man, this peasant, attacked me. He will face some punishment! I do not mean to offend Lord Stark, but what lord calls this justice?" The Winterfell guards bristled at the Tallhart's language.

If Lord Stark was enraged, he concealed it. "Then do not release the man. Let him stay a night in the prison, then be flogged instead. To learn a lesson." FLOGGED? Hilena stumbled to her feet, trying to stand up vertically and keep the little dignity she had left.

"Mercy, m'lord," the girl supplicated, "Mercy for my brother."

"Not hanging is mercy," the Stark answered, "Mercy is you not facing any sentence, Hilena." Lord Tallhart whipped his head around to glare at his liege lord.

"What do you mean the girl won't face a sentence?"

"I say she will not," Lord Eddard retaliated, the other lord's face falling in disbelief, "She's a child who's made a singular mistake. As Lord of Winterfell, I say there will be no sentence, for there was no crime. And you must give the stag to one of my guards upon our return. They will take it to the butcher and have it given to all in Winterfell."

Am I supposed to thank him for this? Hilena scrunched her nose, conflicted. He saved my brother from the noose, but not from the whip.

Fury raged on the Tallhart man's face. "We should all be going back to Winterfell then, my lord?"

Ned nodded in reply and so the other lord urged his courser forward, galloping off with the rest of the hunting party in tow. Laid across the back of an unknown man's horse was Harwin; knocked out, feet and hands bound. Rage filled her mind and sick filled her throat. Hilena spun to go fetch her horse and follow the party. I'll fight them again if I have to. They won't get away with this.

"Next time you want to hunt, you need only ask." Hilena had only taken a few steps, then stopped to regard Eddard Stark. He wore a pensive expression, but his eyes seem conflicted, maybe even enraged. The girl did not know what to say, she did not know if she even wanted to speak. Instead of replying, she bowed to the Stark. With a slight smile, he rode off on his horse, leaving the commoner alone in the woods.

Hilena brought a careful hand to her face, feeling the heated skin where she had been slapped. A guard slapped me. And... The girl put her right hand out in front of her. That Lord Helman nearly took my hand. For thinking I was a poacher. He tried to have my brother hanged. Even though Lord Stark did something, tried to save me, tried to save Harwin. Hilena's hand became a fist. He doesn't deserve my thanks.

The ride back to Winterfell was rapid, her fury increasing with every one of Jenny's gallops. My brother is a prisoner. There were no lords or Harwin in sight when she reached the stables and dismounted. Now he will suffer for protecting me. It's... my fault. It's my fault.

Her guilt was a knife in her heart, the commoner pausing with Jenny's reins in her hands. If I'd just asked Lord Stark, nothing would've happened. Why do I even need to ask him? But I should've known. The Others take me, I should've known. Hilena hastily blinked away tears and rubbed at her eyes, not wanting to cry again. She put Jenny in her stall and left behind her longbow and quiver, then set off to the dungeons.

The Starks of Winterfell rarely ever took prisoners, so the dungeons were small and guarded by one man. The guardsman on duty was plain and Hilena did not recognize him, perhaps a Tallhart man or a newer recruit. He leaned lazily against the entrance to the dungeons, only snapping to attention once the girl was standing in front of him.

"I want to see the prisoner," Hilena demanded, trying not to scowl at having to call her brother as such.

"I'm 'fraid that can't happen," the man replied hoarsely, "On orders to allow no visitors." What? No visitors?

"I'm his sister, the prisoner's sister," she clarified, "I want a minute to see him."

"I can't let ye do that, family or not."

Hilena sighed in frustration. "Please? A minute, not even."

"Are ye deaf?" the guard huffed, "I'm on orders to not allow anyone to see 'im."

"I need to talk to my brother!" she snapped, "I don't care about your orders! Orders be damned!" Taken aback, the guard let out a deep sigh.

"A minute, not even," he repeated, unhooking a loop of keys from his belt and unlocking the door. "Don't think 'bout tryin' anything."

Hilena nodded and entered the dungeons as soon as the door opened. Harwin was the sole captive, held in the second cell from the entrance. His hands were manacled, and a foot bore a cuff chained to the wall. He had been stripped down to his breeches and tunic, his boots and armor gone.

"Harwin," Hilena choked out, running to the prison cell. Falling to her knees in front of him, she gripped the rusted bars. "Harwin, it's me, Lena." His light brown hair was matted against his forehead, his entire body slick with sweat. Oh, gods. Her brother stirred after a moment, reddened hazel eyes gazing at her in disbelief.

"Lena?" he mumbled, his eyes glassy. I let the highborns do this. How did I let them all get away with this?

"I'm—I'm sorry—" Hilena's throat went dry, lost for words.

He murmured, "None of this is your fault."

Her brow creased, tears forming in her eyes. "I let them hurt you. I could've stopped the guards. I should've risen again. I could've ripped them away."

"Don't... don't blame yourself. You did your best. You couldn't do much, but you did somethin'."

The girl frowned. "It was the least I could do."

"But I couldn't defend you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. Harwin hesitated, his eyes now full of desperation, "I'm sorry, so sorry. I'm—"

Instinctively Hilena reached out towards him as her brother moved to her, but his chain restrained him. The constraint prevented Harwin from moving easily, and it repeatedly clanked as he failed to get closer. Eventually, he gave up, slumping against the cell wall in defeat.

"Brother," the girl whispered, tears now freely trickling down her cheeks.

"I couldn't protect you," he rasped, avoiding her eyes, "What worse crime could I commit?"

"Nearly killing a lord?"

Her answer got the smallest chuckle out of Harwin. "I would do it again, though I wish I never had to. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I let anyone hurt you. That guard... Tallhart... damned highborns."

"I hate them all, the highborns. Including Lord Stark." Harwin's mouth moved wordlessly in response. "After that Lord Tallhart took you away, he told me I should've asked him to hunt. Yes, I... I should've known that. But you saw what Lord Eddard did in the Wolfswood. He would've let my hand get cut off. Even if he put the other lord in his place—"

"He saved me from hanging, Lena. He saved you from Tallhart's penance."

"HE DID NOT!" the girl rebuked, "Lord Stark's like the rest of the highborns, Harwin! Don't you see? He has no care for lowborns! I hate him!" Shock washed over her brother's face before he closed his eyes and sighed.

"Listen," he soothed, "Lord Stark is highborn, but he cares. He's an honorable leader, a kind lord. I and even Father understand why he acted as he did, and so should you. His speaking down to Lord Tallhart was bold enough. The man is a guest. What was Lord Stark to do when the Tallhart attacked? Send in his guards? The rift created would've been even greater than it likely is now. Lord Eddard knows he cannot risk these kinds of things over smaller matters—"

"So what, we don't matter as much as some treaty?" Hilena interrupted, "Some alliance?"

"Yes," Harwin sighed dejectedly, "We do not. We never have. Even good lords like Lord Stark know the order of our world."

"And you find no issue with that?" the girl muttered, blinking away angry tears.

"I don't think it my place to judge," her brother answered, "Let this pass and release your grievances with Lord Stark. Oh and don't cause more trouble, hm? Do you understand?"

"I understand." She gave a quick nod, as anything more would be a lie.

»»----—-—-—-—--- ---—-—-—-—----««

Hilena's chest rose up and down, her breathing arduous. Her nose was clogged, her eyes burned, and her face was stuffy and damp from tears. She rubbed at the remaining teardrops in her eyes with her palm, leaving her face more irritated and reddened.

"Now, once you clean the cut with a wet cloth, you'll apply a salve." Maester Luwin's voice was dull in the back of Hilena's mind. Out of the corner of her eye, the old man held out a cloth.

"Yes," was the only response the girl mustered.

Hilena carefully took the cloth from the elder's hand. Despite feeling dizzy and nauseated, she insisted on helping Maester Luwin. She reached down into an adjacent water bucket, soaking the cloth. Then she began to rub at the bleeding cuts on her brother's back. Harwin, sitting on a stool, flinched at the contact.

"Sorry," Hilena apologized, pulling the cloth away, which started running red.

"No," he rasped, "You need to. Go on." Harwin glanced over his shoulder, then turned to hunch over again. He was drenched with sweat, from his mop of brown hair to his roughspun trousers. Hilena swallowed, her throat dry, and returned to cleaning her brother's cuts. That's the work of a whip.

The truth of her brother's sentence had not settled in until the next day as she watched from the stables. Guards had dragged Harwin into Winterfell's courtyard. Someone had placed a wooden pillar in the center of the yard which her shirtless brother had been strung up to. As soon as a man approached Harwin with a whip, Hilena started muttering "no," and then yelled it.

Every moment blurred in her mind, the clearer memories bringing tears to her eyes. She recalled guardsmen and even her father, holding her back as she screamed at them to stop, the crack of the whip, Harwin collapsing to his knees. A guard delivered the blows while Lord Helman watched on. Lord Stark and his family were absent through it all. Hilena had wept, her thoughts a flurry of wrath and despair.

Now, slowly but surely, she bandaged her brother's back. The girl cleaned the cut, applied a healing salve, then placed a dry cloth on top of it. Hilena did the pattern repetitively until Harwin's back was a messy quilt of cloths.

"I'm done," Hilena mumbled, pulling back from the task. She got up from sitting and looked at her brother, who also rose. After the girl cleansed her hands of blood and Harwin dressed, the siblings profusely thanked Maester Luwin, who smiled.

The walk down the turret steps was silent. The siblings had already come to peace with the situation, or at least Harwin had. Hilena could not rid her mind of negativity, even though she perfectly understood it all. Why are we lesser? Why do we suffer terrible punishment for going against highborns? They're not any different, we're all people, aren't we?

Even Hullen had come to peace with it, his daughter having confessed everything to him the previous night. Hilena's father was never one for consolation or soothing words. Instead, he spoke of Lord Stark's integrity, the law, and the way things are.

Of less help was Hilena's stepmother. Hullen had married a seamstress and washerwoman, Sara, some time ago. In all the woman's attempts to be comforting, it was all fruitless. When Hilena's stepmother attempted to comfort the girl, she retreated to her room and cried herself to sleep.

As Hilena walked, she dabbed at her wet eyes with the ball of her hand. When she and Harwin reached the tower's exit, he lingered on the last step.

"We need to find Father," her brother whispered with a glance.

"Why? He knows everything. We all understand," she stated dryly.

"About what to do now." Harwin looked at his feet.

"I think it better if you spoke alone," Hilena suggested.

Her brother took a deep breath. "I will not make you face him again."

Without thinking, Hilena reached up and brought her brother into a tight embrace. She did not know how long they remained close, but eventually, the pair came out of their hug. Harwin cupped his sister's cheek, the one bearing bruises from the slap. He smiled briefly, then left without another word.

Winterfell's main courtyard was busy as ever on the bright summer day, with servants and others bustling all around. The wooden post that Harwin had been flogged on was absent.

Alas, there went Bran and little Rickon chasing each other through the archery range, Hodor carrying a saddle, and Ser Rodrick Cassel training Lord Stark's older sons at swordsmanship. Oh, Robb and Jon.

The two eldest sons of Eddard Stark were Hilena's confidants and only friends in reality. The trio had grown up together in the last four years, but they were no longer children anymore. They did not race along rivers, play in the snow, and enjoy life and each other's company without qualms. Robb was to be Lord of Winterfell, and Jon spoke of joining the Night's Watch. Hilena, on the other hand, did not have as free a future. My father has made his designs on it.

Upon her flowering into a woman, Hullen had resolved it was time for his daughter to find a husband. Her father tried to guide her towards the tanner's son, Esric, six-and-ten, devilishly handsome for a common boy, and already known for his way with girls. I'll be damned to the deepest of the seven hells before I let him near me. Though, Hilena was not sure if her apathy was completely Esric's fault.

Despite the trappings of a woman of her status, she had her own wants. Her eyes wandered, but dangerously. Too many times did her gaze settle on Robb Stark. Hilena could not explain herself, even if she wanted to. She knew that the time she spent alone with the Stark was different from her time with Jon, Esric, or anyone else. It was an ease of sorts. Robb brought relief to her days, his courtesy, and empathy making it so. Hilena remembered far more about him than others. His sharp jawline, the beginnings of stubble, a radiant smile, and the kindest and deepest blue eyes. Being with him never failed to put a smile and a blush on her face. Hilena could go on about him for days, look at him for weeks, be near him for months.

No, it was not love she had decided. Love was a rare jewel seemingly far off, only in stories. Hullen spoke somberly of his love for Mariya, and Harwin joked about his boyhood love for Lyanna Stark. Though her family spoke the truth, it all felt as distant as the histories of Targaryen princes and their maidens.

I do not know what love could even appear to be.

"Hilena!" At the exclamation, Hilena snapped out of her trance and saw Robb and Jon approaching her. The Others take me, she cursed. The Stark wore a broad smile and the Snow's mouth was pressed into a firm line.

"Good day," she replied stiltedly, walking to meet them in the middle of the yard. "How are you both?"

"It is of little matter," Jon said, "We heard about the Tallharts and your brother." Hilena's stomach knotted and dropped like a stone. Of course, they know. It isn't some secret, now is it?

"How much did you hear?" the commoner asked, masking her uneasiness.

"Some from our father, not much more from Jory and other guardsmen," Robb answered, "Lord Tallhart made quite the fuss when they returned from the hunt." Did he now?

"Did the lord really try to cut your hand off?" Jon questioned, his dark brows creasing.

"Yes," Hilena confirmed, words coming out evenly despite a growing sickness in her stomach, "Seven hells, he drew his dagger and knocked me to the ground. If my brother hadn't interceded, I would not have a right hand." Both boys' expressions dropped into fear and concern.

"When Lord Helman returned he was screaming about poachers, hangings, and lowborn scum," Robb moped, "Father said the lord thought you were a poacher, Lena."

"Falsely thought so," the girl asserted, crossing her arms in front of her chest. Anger boiled in her mind again, as the day before flashed between her thoughts. Hilena pushed them away.

"What about Harwin?" the Snow added, his face full of worry, "We barely heard anything about him, other than that he attacked Lord Tallhart." Hilena inhaled, her throat still raw from screams and eyes red from crying. 

"Tallhart's guards attacked him and left him unconscious. Their lord wanted Harwin hanged, but Lord Stark wouldn't hear of it. He still sentenced my brother to flogging. That was this morning after Harwin spent a night in your dungeon." There was silence. It sounds so simple when I say it, though it was not the full tale. They do not need to know of it.

"You have my deepest sympathies," Robb said, breaking the silence, "It is all truly terrible." Jon nodded in solidarity.

"Many thanks," the girl whispered. I don't need any condolences.

"I am headed to the Godswood, to pray," Robb said suddenly, "Would you join me?" Jon's mouth quirked into a smirk which vanished when he caught Hilena's gaze. Odd. 

"It'd be rude to refuse you, m'lord," she joked lightly, "Will you not come with us, Jon?"

"No, I have mine own business. Another day." The Snow smiled, mischief in his coal eyes then departed.

"Why is he more strange than usual?" Hilena asked Robb once his half-brother was out of earshot.

"He is always that strange," the Stark replied with a smile. "Let us go, hm?" The boy raised one of his elbows, an offer for them to go arm in arm. The girl could feel the heat rise in her face.

"I am not taking your arm," she laughed, pushing his elbow down and then walking away. It felt good to laugh.

"It's rude to refuse a lord!" Robb called out, running to catch up to her. "Any girl would be considered fortunate to walk arm in arm with the heir to Winterfell."

Hilena scoffed, "I would first be laughed at for walking arm in arm with an absolute fool." Robb chuckled heartily, bringing a small smile to her face. 

The walk together was brief, every step increasing the flush creeping up Hilena's neck and face. She could not help but feel there was more than a peaceful walk and prayer ahead of her. That is for the gods to know.

The Godswood was ethereally beautiful. The sunshine of summer poured through the leaves and branches of elms, ironwoods, and oaks. It refracted in the hot pools, most brilliantly in the deep black one in front of her. The central weirwood was enormous. Its white bark and crying face had deteriorated over time, its scarlet leaves and sap ever dripping. I should come here more often.

Hilena paused by the pool as Robb knelt before the heart tree. The sun dappled his bronze curls, and her breath caught in her throat. She turned her head away before the blush on her face deepened any more. 

"Will you pray?" Robb's voice was a rock in her drifting mind. She nodded gently, going to kneel beside her friend. The wind rustled the blood-red leaves around them.

"I must confess," she whispered, looking at Robb, "I do not know how."

"To pray?" he asked, returning her gaze. Hilena looked away.

"No... though my family honors the Old Gods, they never brought me to pray here. I know little of other religions' prayers as well. I have yet to read the books on such matters."

"To honor the Old Gods," Robb began, his gaze set on the heart tree, "Bow your head and remain silent. Pray in your mind; the gods will not truly hear if you speak it. Do not lie, either. The tree will know."

"It will know?" Hilena looked into the eyes of the weirwood, the crudely carved effigy crying fresh red tears. A chill ran down her spine, and she could not help but feel watched. Perhaps the gods do see.

Robb did not answer, and when the girl looked at him, his eyes were closed and brows furrowed in concentration. Hilena closed her eyes as well, though she did not know if it would help her prayer. Her nose scrunched in thought.

Gods be good. What can I say that you will hear? That you will act on?

Hilena paused, briefly opening her eyes to glance at Robb, still in prayer, and then at the weirwood. She could not bear to look into its eyes for long. Another chill ran through her, and she squeezed her own eyes shut.

Gods, help my brother. Let him heal. Let him become a knight for Lord Stark, but never fight a war. Let him stay safe and live long. Let him find a kind maiden to bear him children. I will be good to the children. I can bring them food, teach them to ride a horse, and shoot a bow. I do not want for a lover or children. Let Harwin instead have those joys in life. That would give me enough happiness.

I suppose, let Hullen and Sara be well. Keep them jovial. Let them remain that way until they are grey and old. I will take care of them then. I will keep their suffering at bay. Let them have only peace.

And, let Jon Snow find belonging at the wall among the black brothers. He deserves to have a family. Let us remain friends until our last days.

Hilena hesitated at her next thought but sighed and continued it.

Let Robb find a highborn bride of good character. I hope she is beautiful and genial and proper. Let her be loyal and bear him children; let her be a gracious mother and lady to all. Let him be happy. Let him lead... lead... justly... let him be what Lord Eddard is not. What Lord Tallhart is not. Let his time as Lord of Winterfell be peaceful and prosperous.

I wish for nothing for myself. Thank you.

There was a pain in her chest. Tears threatened to trail down her cheeks as her hands shook. I lied. What else was I supposed to do? The lie was what Hilena wished the truth was, but it was still a falsehood. The truth was far too terrible. She did not want Robb to find a lady bride or nothing for herself, not in that regard. The gods do not need to hear those musings. What I prayed for is what I wish for. It is. It is.

Then came Robb's voice, earnest and quiet. "Are you all right?"

Hilena's eyes opened, and teardrops fell from her lashes. Her mouth moved wordlessly. There was no good answer. 

Yet without any more words, Robb laid an arm across Hilena's shoulders. She found herself leaning into his hug from the side. It was too comforting, too dangerous, too far gone, and far too soon. Sensibility went silent, and she leaned further, her head nestling into the crook of his neck.

Then Hilena began to cry.

She wept and wept, it was as if the tears would never end. The anger, the ache in her head, the grief, the sick in her stomach, her self-loathing: not once had any been assuaged. All of her was hurt. No acts or words or thoughts of herself or anyone else eased the pain.

Time disappeared.

Hilena did not know how long Robb had been embracing her, how long she had been soiling his clothes with tears. A thousand thoughts had come and gone, leaving her mind an empty pit of dull pain. Then came the sharp realization of her situation. We cannot be seen like this. Seven hells!

"I am so sorry," the girl choked out, pushing herself off of Robb and stumbling to walk away, nearly falling, "I... my apologies, m'lord–"

"What's wrong? Hilena?" Robb called after her, panic clear in his voice.

"I must—" Hilena stopped to look back at her friend.

Robb, her dearest friend. No one knew her as he did. No one else was quite like him. She did not know if anyone could compare. I can't just leave him alone here. No, I can't I... Then, her mind cleared. Seeing the clouds parted and the truth so plain as the open sky hurt.

We cannot be friends, can we? How could I have been so blind? Robb may have been loyal and caring, and she may have felt for me more than anyone in the world. Yet now, Hilena saw how correct the people she had ignored were. Hullen, Harwin, and Lady Catelyn: they were all right. An inevitable, painful fate awaited them. The end of their story was within sight. It was what had kept her true prayers at bay. I see now. Why wait?

"I must confess something new." The words came out stilted, forced.

"You may always speak plainly to me," Robb replied sincerely. Seven hells.

Hilena walked towards him. "You do not get how the world is for people like me. You are a powerful lordling, and you'll get everything you'll ever want handed to you on a silver platter. And me, a peasant girl? I have been crushed under the heel of people like you for my entire life. I will not have it.

"The plain truth is I am miserable and furious at what Lord Tallhart did. He tried to maim me for a crime simply on a presumption due to my status. He had my brother beaten unconscious, chained, and imprisoned for defending me. He wished to have had Harwin hanged, Robb! HANGED! For what reason? His fatuous title of lord protects him and makes him above the rest? Do you not see how wrong that is?" Hilena's eyes grew wet as she stared at a completely shocked Robb. He bit his lip and looked away from her. "Well?" She despised how desperate she sounded, praying to the Old Gods again that he would just let her be done.

"It is but the law," he stated monotonously, "And smallfolk are treated..." His voice trailed off, indicating his disbelief.

"I say the law is wrong," she retaliated, "At least your father cares, a little, about us smallfolk. He's the only lord I have yet to see treat us 'well.' It may be nothing close to justice, but that's the law, is it not? The way of our world."

"It is; everyone knows it, you clearly know it," Robb stood before her now, staring down, "What if when I am Lord of Winterfell, I made life better for you? For all the peasants? There is more to be done in our world." He glanced afar, and Hilena could not discern the emotion on his face. The Stark looked back, now almost pleading, begging. "You can help me make it so. You have a different understanding than most. We can be different." I want you to be right. I want it to be true. But, I cannot find it in myself to believe you.

"There is no better world for us to make; how do I know you'll remain true?" Hilena seethed, "There is no we, and that is how it has always been and always will be—"

"What of the past four years?" he interrupted, fuming.

"It was a mistake." The Stark's entire body and face froze, and Hilena felt a twinge of guilt. I shouldn't have said that. But... I meant it. If we never found each other, would much of my pain be nonexistent?

"Perhaps," the boy muttered, his blue eyes glassy and voice wavering. "Your family's sentiments about me have clearly become your own."

"My family has no fault in this, only your own. What happened with Lord Tallhart and your father made it plain that highborns cannot be brethren with the low. Even if they care, rather claim to."

"And I thought you would want to be by my side today. To pray with me. I am an absolute fool."

"Maybe you are. I can never stand by your side. We'll never stand the same height. Oh, and I have nearly forgotten to ask you. What do you think of the smallfolk?" Robb grimaced.

"The smallfolk are for a lord to protect, every single one of them. They are a lord's subjects which he must provide for, defend, and rule over."

"Subjects. I do not like that word. I don't wish to be ruled by anyone, especially not some glorified, pompous man who only holds power because of a family name."

"Did you miss that lords defend? We keep you all safe. We are in power and rule because we protect."

"Nearly getting a hand cut off is being defended? Or is that a clause of the law I have never heard of because I am just some unlearned scum."

"You speak without sense." 

Hilena resisted the urge to scream.

"I beg your pardon, m'lord, but I do not. Highborns are not persecuted, are not destitute, are not left to die in winter, are not killed by the thousands in wars they do not choose to fight. You sit comfortably in your castles, waited upon, and given everything. And in wars, if you die at all, you're proclaimed heroes and have songs written about your deeds. There are no songs for the men who truly fight wars, are there? I lost my grandfather and uncle to Robert's Rebellion, and they lay dead in the ground with no bard's songs for them."

"It's an honor and a man's duty to fight in a war," Robb bit back, "It's an honor to die in battle."

"What are honor and duty compared to a long, fulfilling life? To seeing the ones you love again?"

"It— Of course, those are important. But honor and duty come before everything else."

"Your mother would not approve of such," Hilena quipped, "The Tully words are Family, Duty, Honor, I believe. Not the other way around." Any tears in her eyes had vanished. With every word Robb spoke, fury settled into its home in her thoughts.

"You make jest about my family and myself after insulting us and being ever serious?"

"Salt in the wound. And you are no longer worth spending serious words upon." The Stark's jaw clenched and blinked as tears filled his eyes.

"This has gone on long enough. I understand everything now," he said, breezing past her to exit the Godswood. Hilena whipped around and strode after him.

"You anger yourself over nothing! Just because I do not do what you want! I am not your little plaything!" she screamed. Robb stopped dead in his tracks; then he turned to face her.

"I am angered that you've slandered me, my house, my family, and what we stand for. And I won't say a word of it to anyone, even Jon. Because I still care about you enough not to lock you in the dungeons. I'd never hurt you." The rawness of the fact was a punch to the gut.

"You do not know that," the girl countered, not believing her argument anymore, "And I would say the same—" Gods, what has this become?

"You pain me with every word you say," Robb interrupted, face reddened and glistening as he started crying.

"I am. So be it." Hilena blinked back her new tears. I didn't want this, but he's shown his true nature. He's another lord; he isn't different. I was the real fool for believing he was better than his father, better than them all.

"How can you say that?" he accused, "How have you said any of this? You're so desperate to be seen as an equal in highborn eyes, yet you argue against us and mock us. Where is your empathy Lena?"

Seven hells. "Highborns don't have to earn respect or empathy, though. You are born loved and revered by thousands, more. Smallfolk are born as if we were shit on the underside of a lord's boot. It will go both ways once we are all born on equal footing. And you know, for fuck's sake, you're right! Mockery is a fool's errand. No, only by being complacent and kind will I see change. My error."

There was a long pause as the two stared at each other. Eventually, Robb whispered, "What do you really desire?"

Hilena's breath caught at the question. Do I know? I thought it was you. I wasn't sure, but you certainly were a possibility. Now you've dashed that fantasy into a thousand pieces. And it isn't worth all this pain.

"I desire to have nothing to do with you." Hilena sidestepped her old friend, then ran away. She did not hear him shouting her name; she did not feel the tears streaming down her cheeks or the pain that sang throughout her body. There was only the summer sun in her eyes, the leaves of the Godswood trees crunching beneath her feet, and the delight in knowing it was all over.