At the entrance to the castle, there stood Septa Mordane, wrapped tightly in a cloak to protect against the cold.
This could already see the worry in her expression as she walked closer.
A second figure stood a few steps behind her.
It was the brown-haired maid from earlier, the same one who had given This the large piece of meat.
The moment This saw her, understanding came immediately.
The maid had brought Septa here.
The human quickly lowered her head after noticing This looking at her.
Without saying a word, Septa quickly closed the distance between them and firmly took hold of This's left hand.
holding her wrist, Septa carefully turned the hand over, her expression tightening slightly as she examined the torn strip of fabric wrapped around it, now dyed a deep shade of red.
This had noticed the change of colour, but had ignored it.
As Septa carefully pulled part of the cloth back, several small bite marks appeared across the thumb and palm, the flesh around each mark swollen and split by the small thing's teeth. Though the leaking had slowed, the red fluid still gathered faintly along the edges of the wounds.
A small distance away, Arya seemed to have only now noticed the wound.
This noted her reaction to seeing the wound.
"Oh…" Arya winced.
For several moments, Septa Mordane said nothing.
But This could visibly see the disbelief in her eyes deepen.
This wasn't certain what had caused her reaction.
The bite?
The sword?
Or both? This didn't think either was a problem, but This often couldn't understand humans.
"...Seven hells..." Septa whispered quietly, perhaps to herself, before looking at This, her expression hardening sharply.
"Sansa Stark," she repeated slowly, each word precise. "Put that down. Immediately."
This didn't understand what she meant for a moment.
Then looked at the wooden sword.
Then at Septa Mordane.
The reaction confused it slightly.
Humans often reacted strongly to strange things.
But This did not yet understand what was strange.
Besides This, Arya visibly shrank.
"It was my idea," Arya blurted quickly. "Sansa wasn't doing anything bad—"
"I was not speaking to you, Arya."
Arya immediately fell silent.
Interesting.
This observed carefully.
The tone Septa used toward Arya differed from how she normally spoke. It was Sharper, Heavier.
Septa Mordane stepped closer across the snow, her eyes never leaving Sansa's hands.
"A lady of House Stark should not stand in the training yard waving swords about like a common sellsword," she said firmly. "Especially not you."
This processed the words carefully.
Again.
Humans separating themselves into roles.
This wouldn't have known of roles had this new information not entered its mind, but now, understanding it so clearly, it felt confused why humans burdened themselves with such roles.
This looked down at the sword once more, thinking deeply.
"But Jon and Robb use them," This said.
"That is entirely different."
This tilted its head slightly.
"How?"
Septa opened her mouth.
Paused.
Then frowned deeper, as though the answer should have been obvious.
"Because they are boys."
Silence.
Snow drifted quietly between the four of them.
This thought carefully about the explanation.
It had come a long way in learning human language, now understanding each individual word almost fully.
But together, they still felt incomplete.
Arya suddenly spoke again from beside This.
"That's stupid."
"Arya."
"It is stupid!" Arya snapped. "Why can Bran learn swords but me and Sansa can't?"
"Because that is not the duty expected of you."
Another unfamiliar phrase.
Duty.
Roles.
Expectations.
This quietly stored the new words away for when it was alone in the Mindscape.
Septa Mordane finally reached forward and firmly took hold of the wooden sword within Sansa's hands and threw it to the ground.
Without the sword supporting part of its balance, Sansa's smaller body swayed awkwardly from exhaustion.
Only now did This realize how tired its body had become.
The muscles beneath its skin burned heavily from repeatedly forcing movements the body was never used to performing.
The strain felt unpleasant.
"You will return inside with me," Septa said. "Both of you."
This did not mind and released the sword without resistance.
"What! I wasn't even doing anything!" However, Arya protested instantly.
"And yet you are somehow always involved," Septa replied sharply.
Arya muttered something under her breath.
This could not fully hear it.
But it did not sound good.
Grabbing hold of This's hand and pulling her away gently, This noticed out of the corner of its eyes, the small being near the pillar quietly following after them as the three of them began moving toward the doorway.
The brown-haired servant remained behind briefly, awkwardly gathering the abandoned wooden swords before following as well.
As the four of us began walking back toward the castle entrance, This's attention drifted inward once more.
The strange feeling from earlier still lingered faintly within the Mindscape.
Something about patterns and roles, it still couldn't grasp it entirely since it had no time to enter the mindscape, but it felt like more knowledge had been forced into its head.
Following alongside Septa, This quietly walked back towards the warmth of the Winterfell castle.
Besides this, Arya suddenly kicked a small clump of snow.
"It wasn't even real sword practice."
This looked toward her.
Arya frowned at the ground.
"We were barely doing anything."
This considered the statement and replied after a moment.
"Your movements were slow."
Arya blinked.
"What?"
"Your movement was wrong."
Arya stared.
Then, to This's surprise, a short laugh escaped her.
"You're one to talk."
This thought about that.
Its movements were also wrong when compared to Jon and Robb.
"That is true."
Arya laughed again.
For several moments, neither spoke as they followed behind Septa.
The entrance to the castle gradually grew larger ahead of them.
Eventually, they reached one of Winterfell's doors.
The warmth inside immediately pushed against This's skin.
Unpleasant.
Unlike what it had seen of humans ,This preferred the cold compared to the warmth.
With a slight frown upon its face, lost in its thoughts, This heard Septa speak aloud.
"Jolene, take Lady Arya to the study hall," she said softly.
Arya's expression immediately soured.
"What? Why?"
"Your lessons were missed."
Arya groaned, but Septa Mordane ignored her completely.
Instead, her attention remained fixed on This.
"You are coming with me."
This looked at the bloody cloth around its hand.
This understood why, although vaguely.
"The bite." This asked.
"Yes, the bite."
Arya looked between them.
Then toward This.
For a brief moment, she hesitated.
"I'll come find you later."
This tilted its head.
"Why?"
Arya looked confused by the question.
Then even more confused when This continued staring.
"Because..." Arya paused. "Because we're friends."
Friends...
Another unfamiliar word.
Before This could ask further questions, the brown-haired maid gently began steering Arya away.
"Come, my lady."
This watched as Arya reluctantly allowed herself to be led away.
As she disappeared around the corridor, she glanced back one final time and waved.
This held her within its gaze until she vanished from its sight.
Then it turned toward Septa Mordane.
"What's a friend?"
Septa closed her eyes.
For a moment, she looked very tired.
Then she sighed.
"I'll explain later."
With her response, Silence settled between the two.
No one spoke for a time.
The only remaining sound was the shift of fabric, boots against stone, and distant life within the castle walls.
Then Septa asked a question.
Her voice was controlled but slightly sharp at the edges.
"What happened to your hand?"
This looked down at its hand, the cloth wrapped around it, now almost fully dyed red.
But the hand still moved when This told it to.
"Nothing happened," This responded accordingly.
Septa's expression tightened further.
"Something clearly happened."
Another pause.
This felt like the answer was correct; its hand could still move.
However, looking at Septa Mordane's stern gaze as they walked, This offered what it could.
"The small thing was hungry."
Septa stopped walking for half a step.
Her eyes narrowed fully now.
"The small thing?"
This considered.
"Yes."
Silence returned, but heavier.
Septa exhaled slowly through her nose, not saying anything more, only walking faster.
After many turns, This began to smell a unique scent, similar to when it was outside near the trees.
Not much further from where this had smelt the familiar scent of trees, a room with a sign containing an unknown shape above it appeared. This had only seen the sign once in Sansa's memories. It was a place Sansa had feared, although This couldn't tell exactly why, something about needles.
Walking into the room, the previous scent of herbs became even more prominent. In it was a clean white bed and multiple shelves filled with unknown bottles.
And to the side, a young man in simple clothing, sat at a table, he looked up from the book he was reading as they entered.
His hair was the same colour as the older humans This had seen. But his face was not.
This noted the difference without knowing what to do with it.
This had never seen him before.
Septa's stride besides This slowed slightly.
Her eyes moved across him once.
He was a Young man wearing a long brown coat. Ink stained his two fingers on his right hand.
"Where is Maester Luwin," she said. Not a question.
The young man stood without hurry.
"There was a difficult birth in the village, my lady. He won't return before morning." His voice was steady.
"I'm his apprentice, Edric. I can help."
Septa looked at him for a slightly long moment contemplating something.
Then exhaled once through her nose and stepped aside.
"Her wound needs cleaning," she said.
"Nothing more."
"Of course," He said.
He didn't smile. Septa would have trusted him less if he had.
This only watched, with no intention to speak, nor any desire to be there.
So Septa did not waste time.
"She was bitten," she said immediately. "The wound needs to be cleaned and examined."
The healer stepped forward, gesturing towards the bed.
"Let me see."
This complied, sitting on the clean bed the man gestured towards.
Moving his seat towards the bed, he took hold of This's hand and unwrapped the cloth.
The skin beneath was a blood mess, with clear teeth marks. torn skin and swelling beginning at the edges.
The man paused his movements for a moment.
Noticing this, Septa spoke.
"What?"
The man, Edric, did not answer immediately. Instead, he glanced briefly at Septa, then at This.
"It looks to be a sort of dog bite; luckily, it hasn't been long, and there seems to be no sign of infection."
Poking gently at the wound in multiple places, the man looked into This's eyes and asked.
"Does it pain you, my lady?" he asked.
This considered the question.
Yet struggled to answer.
It had never known pain, only understanding it as something bad through Sansa's memories.
Perhaps its hand had felt slightly hot, and had been harder to move, but This still found it hard to understand what pain was.
"It is not pleasant," This said plainly.
"Hmm, you bear it well."
Speaking his opinion, the man nodded once and stood up, searching for something.
Going through a shelf near the table, he returned shortly with a bottle. He then moved closer to This, holding its hand and began pouring a liquid on the wound.
Watching as the liquid fell onto its hand, the previous burning sensation increased slightly. This had no way to describe the feeling other than that it felt similar to when all of Sansa's memories had been forced into its mind.
Uncomfortable.
Yet it was much more bearable than then. So, This observed it without reaction.
Seeing no response, the man's hands quickened, pouring the liquid onto a cloth and wiping the wound. Before finishing quickly and wrapping the wound in a softer, fresher cloth.
"Keep it clean," he said finally. "It will heal. But the bite could become infected if neglected."
Septa nodded sharply.
Then her gaze shifted towards the doorway where the small thing had made itself comfy.
Somehow, despite everything, the creature had followed them all the way here.
For a few moments, Septa's gaze repeatedly shifted from the fresh bandages on This's hand to the resting creature by the door.
This watched in almost slow motion as whatever patience she had been holding onto seemed to disappear.
"Unbelievable," she muttered.
"The dog bites a child, follows her into the castle, and now sits there as if it's done nothing wrong."
She shook her head.
"A noble lady should never have to sit in a maester's rooms because of some stray animal."
A brief silence.
"That animal should be put down."
This turned slightly, facing towards Septa. Although mixed, This felt the tinge of worry, anger and a slightly more layered feeling within her eyes.
The words Septa had spoken didn't mean much to This. It didn't know what Speta meant by "put down".
However, something felt wrong.
Not the words.
But the feeling behind them.
The worry within Septa from earlier remained, but now it was mixed with something harder.
Something final.
This didn't fully understand why she felt that way.
The creature had followed.
It had been quiet when needed.
It had bitten This, but only because it was hungry; since then, it had not done so again.
This looked toward the small thing still sitting lazily by the door.
Then towards Septa, who seemed to be lost in her own thoughts.
And before This could properly think through what Septa's speech meant, A word left its mouth.
"No."
This felt it, as it spoke, the odd balance in the room shifted.
Septa looked at This directly for the first time in a while.
"What did you say?"
This repeated, in the same bland tone as always.
"No." This didn't know why it refused Septa's words, but an urge pushed it towards doing so.
This had expected Septa to get loud and speak sharply as she did with Arya, but instead, both she and the man stopped moving, only watching This intently.
...
Unlike her previous solid tone, Septa's voice dropped.
"You do not understand what that thing did."
This looked at the wrapped hand.
Then back.
"This understands."
A pause.
Then again.
"It was hungry."
Septa's expression tightened further.
"It was hungry? Sansa? It attacked you!"
This looked toward the puppy again.
The statement did not change anything.
Instead, This stood up.
The man instinctively stepped aside as This got up and headed towards the door.
Looking at the small being still lying cozily, this bent down and grabbed it by the scruff of its neck, the same way Jon had, and lifted it carelessly.
The small thing didn't resist and hung loosely in the air, seemingly caught off guard by its sudden movement.
The creature made a small, uncertain sound.
This held it simply, and without force.
Septa's gaze shifted slowly between the wound, the animal, and This. Her eyes slowly squinting into thin lines.
Her voice dropped.
"Put it down."
This did not respond immediately.
"No."
Septa's jaw tightened.
"You are injured because of it."
This looked at the thing lying limply in its unharmed hand.
Then back.
"It is not… understood yet."
...
For a while, Septa only stared.
...
Then she exhaled lightly.
For a moment, it looked like she would insist again.
Then she stopped.
"Fine," she said sharply. "But it will be monitored and trained. If it shows aggression again, I personally will do my best to have it removed."
"And you will receive proper treatment."
This did not refuse this time. It didn't know what she meant by "trained" or by "aggression," but it seemed that whatever firmness she held within her had gone.
For This, that was enough.
Seeing Sansa's usual silence, Septa took her conditions as accepted.
Septa turned away slightly.
"Finish this quickly."
Looking at the man, who was now awkwardly searching through an unknown drawer, Septa said finally.
Then she left.
________________________________________
Sansa had been… different since that night.
I noticed it immediately.
The child who once filled the halls with questions and restless energy had become quiet, distant and to a degree, absent.
It was not that she misbehaved. If anything, she behaved too well. She read when told. Ate without complaint. Spoke only when spoken to.
That, in itself, was what unsettled me, whether one lost memories or not, their whole personality changing seemed something out of a storybook.
As head of her household care since infancy, I could not ignore it.
I raised my concerns to Lord and Lady Stark on more than one occasion. Lord Stark dismissed them, saying that the matter was not to be pursued further.
So I observed.
Today, I reached what I could not ignore.
I had at first found her holding a sword, although only a training sword, such a sight a week ago would have been impossible to imagine. Then there was the incident with the maester. She showed no reaction to pain.
A bite wound, fresh and bleeding, drawn across her hand. Yet she did not flinch as alcohol was poured across it. She did not even properly acknowledge the maester's question when he asked her level of discomfort.
I had lived long enough to understand what was normal and what wasn't.
That was not normal.
Releasing a heavy breath, I let go of my thoughts and quickened my pace towards Lord Stark's office.
He would need to know.
Reaching his office door, I stopped briefly.
Then knocked.
Inside, a tired and rugged response came.
"Enter."
Gently opening the door, I entered, finding Lord Neddard Stark sitting behind a desk, holding a penned feather with his head laid against his palm.
Without needing to be told, I delivered my message plainly.
"Sansa Stark was bitten by the direwolf given to her. The wound is not severe. However, the animal's behaviour is concerning. I recommend it be removed from her."
Speaking my thoughts aloud, I lowered my head and awaited a response.
A brief pause.
Then he responded.
"Is she alright?"
"Yes," I answered quickly.
"Did the maester see her?" He asked again.
"Yes." Bowing deeper, I responded in quick succession.
Another pause.
Then he exhaled.
"Alright, call everyone here. I have an announcement I've been meaning to make."