Mina braced herself as the wheelhouse she rode in lurched forward from the sudden stop. She took a deep breath as she twisted her fingers into her grey dress, focussing her mind on the fibres below her fingers. Mina loathed the clothes that were customary in The North during a period of mourning, the dark heavy fabrics with their stifling collars and sleeves. She was only nineteen—far too young for this matronly garb.
The girl tried to focus her attention away from the long itchy sleeves and towards putting on a sombre and serious tone for the benefit of the Septa, sent as chaperone for her journey home to Winterfell. "Well, I suppose this is where we part, Septa. Thank you ever so much for the kindness and compassion you have shown me throughout this difficult time. I'll cherish your friendship for as long as I shall live. I will pray that the gods watch over you and bring a resurgence of peace and prosperity to your noble house."
The old Septa, overcome with emotion, responded with a gentle hug around the tall, pale girl. In truth, Mina found her chaperone for the journey to be an insufferable hag, who was a terrible bore and for some reason smelled faintly of onions—but Mina had learned long ago that speaking her mind was not the way for a young lady to get ahead in the times she lived in. She knew to play nice and say the right things... for a time at least.
Mina endured the hug with all the poise she could muster, and strained to stifle her eyes from rolling back into her head. The pair broke their awkward embrace and Mina soon found herself escorted through the main gatehouse to the open square inside Winterfell, where her family and a few other members of the household stood waiting. "Welcome home, my lady" a member of the guard said to her as he dipped his head. Mina felt a smile creep upon her face; it was good to be home.