The King in the North's party sat in his marquee, in the dumb quietness of shock. There was food laid out on a table, but no one was eating anything. Myrcella felt sick.

Roslin was sat on a chair nearby, bent double as she cried, her husband kneeling before her, pressing his forehead to hers. Sansa looked pale, and leant close to her mother's side, not saying anything.

'Your grace,' the Greatjon was saying, in a voice far louder than any other in the tent, piercing across all other conversations, 'It may not be a bad thing that the Freys are gone. They have always posed a threat to your house, sire.'

'You dare to say that in front of a member of their own house, and mine?' Robb spat back, in a voice that sounded exhausted. Cella pushed back the urge to hold him close.

'I did not mean to offend, my liege,' the big man said, with begrudging submission, 'I only mean to say that perhaps not only bad has come of this accident.'

'It may not be an accident,' said Dacey Mormont, striding through the tent flaps. The King's attention flipped to her. 'I've spoken to the survivors, as you requested, sire, and I think I know the truth.'

'Speak then,' said Robb when she didn't begin. Dacey turned to the entrance and whistled, and boy, no older than ten and four, gaunt and spotty, shuffled in, avoiding eye contact.

The boy stood mute for a few moments, until Dacey nudged him, and nodded at him to speak.

'My master planned it all,' he said, in a meek little voice that somehow stilled all the murmuring in the tent, including Edmure's, as his wife looked up at the speaker. 'He's been planning it for years, and when Lord Walder died he took his chance. He burnt down the house to make him heir, and he was going to escape.'

'But he didn't?' Dacey prompted.

'No, Milady,' he blushed under the tall woman's gaze, 'We was leaving and then my master seemed to remember something. He told me to barricade the doors anyway and said he'd make his own way out… But he didn't.'

'We found Black Walder in a tower with a woman,' one of Robb's lords cut in, 'I didn't recognise her.'

Dacey nodded appreciatively at the squire, and he retreated into a corner.

'Well, he's no great loss,' said the Smalljon, to murmurs of approval from some of the men, 'And neither's the old Lord.'

'I don't expect you to understand this,' Roslin's sweet voice piped up, standing as quickly as she dared, with Edmure hovering close behind her protectively, 'My father was a cruel man, but he was my father nonetheless. Please grant me this one mercy and let me mourn him for his good qualities.'

Everyone looked at her humbly for a moment and then a quiet murmur started up again in the tent. Cella saw her opportunity and moved forward- but not to Robb, or even his sister.

'I understand, Lady Roslin,' she said softly, laying her hand on the lady's bony shoulder. Edmure was engaged in conversation with his sister, and no one's focus was on the sweet surviving Frey.

'My- Princess Myrcella?' Stammered Roslin, biting her lip.

'I know what it is to love someone just because you have to,' Cella said gently, sitting down beside Roslin, 'My mother... she's a cold woman, a cruel woman- but I had to love her, because she was the only mother I had.'

'I... I know my father did awful things,' Roslin replied, 'But he protected me, with his wealth and his men, and he brought Edmure and I together- and I suppose, he did love me on some level... do you understand?'

'But, Roslin...' Myrcella murmured, 'I have found a family now, with Sansa and Lady Catelyn... and Robb; and Edmure will always be there to protect you now, you know.'

'I know...' whispered Roslin, tears glimmering in her eyes.

'Family is not who you are born to, it's who you care for the most,' said Myrcella, and then she stood up, but Roslin caught her arm before she could walk away.

'Myrcella-' she said abruptly- 'Thank you for understanding.'

Myrcella nodded, and went to sit beside Sansa, not saying anything as she sat down.

Lady Catelyn was still talking to Edmure, and after a few minutes Sansa leant in to her ear and whispered, 'Do you love my brother?'

Cella pulled away a little, surprised that the other girl knew: but then, Catelyn knew, and Gendry knew- and she probably was that obvious. Whenever she wasn't staring at him, he was staring at her, and they spend far too much time together to pretend they weren't close.

She sighed: it wouldn't hurt Sansa to know the truth. 'Yes.'

Sansa paused, and then placed her hand on top of Cella's on the table. Their eyes met. 'You should marry him then.'

'I- what?'

'Life is short and hard, Myrcella,' Sansa stated, with the wise, kindly voice of her mother, 'Seize happiness when you can.'

A/N: sorry it's so late and short, but I'm kind of filling a gap before we reach the final couple of chapters. Hope you're still enjoying! And I'm glad I've managed to shoe-horn Dacey Mormont in again, she's wonderful ok. Adieu!