"Princess I implore you, please, this is not the time."

"If not now then when?" She asked her uncle, turning from her horse to look at him. "I have debts, debts of kindness that I must repay."

"Your father-"

"Is more interested in dwelling on his dead brother than me. I'll speak to him when I return," she turned back to her horse and brushed the grey mare down, humming to the animal.

"As you say, Princess." She listened as Bryce left, no doubt to continue carrying out his duties as Hand of the King. Her father still hadn't left his chambers, although he sometimes ate with his bannermen now. She wished good fortune on all who had to suffer through that at the moment.

She still couldn't face him though, not now, not yet. Once she had done this thing, then she would go back and try again, but for now. She shook her head. Whenever she thought of what Lord Stannis was she wept for what her father had been, and she'd shed enough tears these past days. She was living in comfort, a feather bed, and a pleasant companion every night, beautiful dresses comfortable riding clothes and fur cloaks, her hair had been groomed and cut, all the knots and much scraped clean from it. The barber had to almost half the length of it so that it now fell around her shoulders, but it now shone as she combed it in the morning.

Now she was going to repay her debts to those who had helped her on her journey.

As she finished grooming her mount she heard a voice from the entrance to the stables. "Princess," she turned to see Richard. He too was groomed, his new armour shining silver and a silk cord, one of her own, tied around his arm. "We're ready to leave, as soon as you are."

"Everything is packed?"

"Yes, the mules are carrying the packs for us."

"Good, I'll be out now."

She took the reins, leading her horse out to the courtyard, where Richard, Allard and Ser Lynas, eager to make amends for his comments earlier, waited, with Aeriel and Lynas' squire. Three loaded mules waited between them with their handlers, who would be accompanying them as well. It was a small group, but with the Lannisters quitting the Stormlands, all they should need.

"Are we ready?" She asked.

Everyone nodded and so she pulled herself up onto her horse. Her riding clothes smooth against her skin. She reached down for Aeriel, who was in her own set of riding clothes, her hair pulled over one shoulder. Aerial took it and she pulled the girl in front of her. "Are you sure you don't want to stay?" She asked her.

Aerial shook her head and twisted around to look at her. "I'm your handmaiden aren't I. I should be with you."

Shireen smiled and kissed the back of Aeriel's head. "Very true. When we get back we'll have to get you riding your own horse though."

Aerial nodded eagerly. "Come on, let's move."

They had only made it passed the second picket line before the sound of pounding hooves made them turn. A column of riders was approaching them, twenty armoured knights and their squires. "What's going on?"

"Princess," the rider at the head of the column urged his mount forward. "His Grace, King Stannis, has ordered us to accompany you."

"Why?" What did he want now?

"To protect you, Princess, he's worried for you."

"I have plenty of protection."

"Princess," the knight warned. "We have orders to escort you back to Storm's End if you refuse."

She bristled at that. "And will you?"

"Yes Princess, he is the king and he has given his orders."

So he could still be the king when he wanted to be, could he? Curse him. "Very well," she said, "thank you sers."

She turned back and they rode onwards, her new escort falling into two wings either side of them as they made their way north.

At first, she'd thought she'd recognise the journey, but she was swiftly disabused of that notion. Now she travelled by the roads, the shodden hooves of their horses rattling off the cobbles. It seemed well and truly the case that the war had left the region. Peddlers from local villages were set up by the side of the road, waiting for travellers. None of the inns they arrived at had rooms enough for their entire party now, with at least half of them sleeping outside. At first she'd wanted to join them, all sleeping together, not with her raised above them, but then Allard had reminded her of the plight of the people. "Many of these inns will have lost custom in the last months, better for them to have what rooms they have filled." So she bought rooms and breakfasts at every place they stopped, spreading the silver around the stormlands. At every sept she made a donation and gave her prayers, asking them if they knew the motherhouse where she had stayed. That would be the first stop on her journey.

It was actually at the village of greyweather that told her. The local hetman informed them that the motherhouse was in the hills nearby. She'd thought she would have gotten to it sooner. But of course, when going south they'd risen at dawn and walked until dusk, stopping only to look for food or eat it. Now they slept much later, ate breakfast leisurely, and left when they were ready, not when the sun called them. Even travelling on horseback, and on the roads, they were slower than she had been coming south. But they were here now, and so she thanked the hetman and took the party into the hills.

"What do you intend to do to them?" Richard asked her. To give her horse a rest, Richard had Aeriel mounted on the back of his saddle. She was distinctly less comfortable on his larger horse.

"Thank them, for giving us shelter for the night."

Richard looked at her, alarmed. "Princess, if we hadn't been alerted by that sister-"

"Maven," Shireen reminded him.

"Yes, her, if she hadn't warned us what the sister was going to do, you may have been killed."

"But I wasn't," she said simply.

"You might have been," with the frustration that built on a lack of understanding.

"Ser Richard," she turned her horse to him and the entire column stopped, the knights, confused, turning in their saddles to see what was happening. "I have seen people who fixate on all the harm that others have done to them. Who focus on how they have been wronged or how they might have been wronged. I have seen it and I swear by all the gods I will not live that way. I can't." She remembered Robert, raging in a burning village of fire, roaring at all that hurt him, killing it again and again. She remembered her father, sitting in his chair brooding about all the wrong the world had done to him, blind to the light that was before him. "I will not do it." She repeated.

Richard didn't look convinced, but he bowed his head regardless. "As you wish, princess."

At her order they set off again into the winding hills.

When they got to the motherhouse, two of the septas were tilling the field outside who looked up in alarm and fear at the column of riders in burnished steel on towering warhorses. One of them dropped their plow and tried to pull the other away, but she was frozen in fear at the sight of them.

"Help!" The one who could move screamed towards the motherhouse, stepping in front of her sister, spreading her arms out wide.

"Stop," she called and the riders came to an abrupt halt. She nudged her mare out forward, Richard staying close behind her. "Peace, septas," she said, holding up her hand in a peaceful gesture, "We aren't here to hurt you."

"What's going on here?" She turned to look at the motherhouse, where a group of septas had emerged. Most held fearfully close to the door, ready to dart back in in a moment, but the septa superior Alayne strode out. "There's no war here, knights, take your horses and weapons and leave this place."

"The knights are my protectors, septa superior, they won't harm anyone or anything, you have my word on that."

Alayne looked at her, standing her ground. "Who are you and why are you here?"

"I am here to repay the kindness that this motherhouse showed me," she said. She dismounted and walked forward, stopping at a respectful distance. "My name is Shireen, Princess of House Baratheon."

Alayne's eyes widened in surprise. "Princess?" She sank into a bow, it was awkward, like she had never done so before. "I'm sure you must be mistaken, princess, this house has never seen you grace it's doors before."

"I am sure you have, septa superior." She beckoned back to the horses. "Bring the mules forward."

Two of the squires brought the line of mules forward at her order, guiding them between the fields. "You took me in, septas, and you showed me kindness, all of you," she raised her voice, speaking to the septas waiting by the door as well as Alayne.

"Princess, I'm sure I would remember-" Alayne began.

Shireen through her cloak back over her shoulder and pulled up her left sleeve, revealing the greyscale scars that stretched up her forearm. "Are you sure, septa?"

The septa fell to her knees in terror. "Y-you-" she bowed her head. "Princess, you must… I had no idea I…"

"Hush," Shireen strode forward and helped the septa superior to her feet. "You should only kneel before the gods, not me," she smiled, clasping Alayne's muddy hands between her own. "I am here to repay you for taking me in from the storm."

"I-I…"

"Might I pray and present you tokens of my thanks?"

Alayne could only nod and stand aside.

"Ser Richard, Aerial, come with me, and bring our tokens of thanks." She allowed septa superior Alayne to lead the way into the motherhouse.

She looked out of the corner of her eyes at the septas as she went by, trying to glimpse sister Maven, but couldn't see her.

Inside she knelt and gave her thanks to each of the gods in turn before standing and looking at the septas who had gathered around them. Richard, Aerial and, to her surprise, one of the knights, were bringing in their tokens of thanks. "I wanted to return the robes that you gave us to you," she said to the assembled sisters, "but they were in no condition to be worn, so I brought you these new ones instead, made in the same manner from the same materials." She nodded at Aeriel who unfolded the two robes and held them out. One of the septas stepped forward to take them. "And, as a personal thank you," she held out her hand and the knight stepped forward, a large bundle in his hands. He unfurled it to reveal seven carved plates of lacquered wood. Each one depicted one of the faces of the seven in the most perfect detail. "For your altars," she said, taking them from the knight and passing them to the septa superior. "I hope I haven't overstepped my place in this, but I was unsure what sort of gift to give you, in thanks for what you did for me."

"These are… more than we deserve, thank you, princess." She traced the faces of the seven gently, before she bowed and went to position each of them on the altar.

As she did so, Shireen went and thanked each of the sisters, those she remembered by name, and those she did not, for all their hospitality. She found quickly found Maven, who smiled at her while Shireen squeezed her hand. She leant in to kiss the sister on the cheek. "Thank you," she whispered, before pulling back.

"It is our pleasure to serve, princess," Maven said, bowing. Shireen looked her up and down then raised an eyebrow. Maven shook her head subtly. She hadn't been punished for alerting them, perhaps they never knew what Maven had done. Shireen promised herself that she would pray for her.

When she was done, she returned to the septa superior, who had finished placing her gifts upon each of the altars. "Can we offer you anything, princess?"

Shireen shook her head. "No, I came here to repay you for your kindness, but there are others I must also thank, and as the day is not yet fading, I must ride."

"Princess," the septa superior caught her arm as she turned to leave. Shireen turned back. "I truly am sorry for what we- I did. If I had known who you were…"

Shireen took the hand on her arm and gave it a firm squeeze. "I am not after repayment for that. You did what you did out of ignorance, not hate. She pulled her arm free and held it out. "And ignorance should be cured with knowledge, not punishments. One day you may come across another like me, without the protections of my position. She rolled back her sleeve, once more revealing the blackened, crusted skin. "It's inert, it can't hurt you any more than it can hurt me. She held it out. "Touch it, see for yourself."

Alayne froze, looking at the arm fearfully. "I promise," Shireen told her.

Tentatively, Alayne reached out and brushed her fingers along the stone hard skin. Then she gripped the arm more firmly. "Remarkable," Alayne breathed. She looked into Shireen's eyes. "I can see why the gods spared you."

"I try to repay that debt as best I am able," Shireen replied, letting her sleeve drop.

Alayne bowed, "thank you, princess. I swear I'll do better."

"That's all anyone can do."

She turned to find the other knight who had accompanied them standing behind her. "Princess," he said. After a moment he bowed his head awkwardly.

"Thank you for your help ser," she said, smiling at him. "You can remove your helm if you wish, we are in a house of the gods."

He stiffened. "I'd rather not, my princess, we could be in battle at any time."

It didn't take that much time to put a helmet on, but if he didn't wish to remove the greathelm, she would respect that choice. "Could you go and tell the others to get ready ser…" She didn't actually know his name.

After a second the knight finished, "Ser Steffon," he said. "Of course, I'll go and tell them we'll be leaving shortly." He bowed stiffly again before turning on his heel and marching from the motherhouse.

Shireen turned to give her thanks one last time to the septas before leaving the septas to their prayers.

Unlike the motherhouse and the villages to the south, Dewberry was alerted to their coming and everyone barricaded in their homes when Shireen and her party entered. Perhaps the war hadn't been so far away from them, not such a distant memory. But the houses were still intact, animal pens still standing, with pigs munching away on their slop, so they hadn't been sacked. Perhaps it was just that they were more alert and more cautious when a column of armed riders burst into their village.

"Hello!" She called out from the central square, looking around at the houses that lined it. "Is anyone there?" No one answered, only the creaking of wood in the wind. "Please. I am the princess Shireen of House Baratheon. I am not here to hurt you, I just need to speak with you."

One door opened and they turned. A stiffly dressed man with a yellow half cloak fastened at his shoulder stepped out of one of the houses. Despite what he was faced with, he stood tall. "Princess Shireen?" He asked, tentatively but firmly.

"Yes," she smiled at him. "And who are you ser?"

He bowed. "I am Hetman Tomas," he said, "why have you come here?"

She dismounted, she wouldn't speak down to this man. She gestured for Richard and the others to do the same and the knights and squires dismounted. "I have only come to repay what I took from you."

"Took from us?"

She nodded. "Will your people come out, hetman? I mean them no harm."

The Hetman looked her up and down, then her knights, and he nodded. "You can come out, it's safe!"

They emerged from all around. Some came out of their houses, others emerged from between hay bales and clambered out from under carts. An entire family pulled themselves out of the central well, all calling out to others. More came in from side streets, some covered in leaves and broken twigs, having come from the fields surrounding the village.

"Why are you hiding?" She asked the Tomas."

"There's a war on, princess," he replied, trying to keep his voice even. "Our best young men 'ave been drafted, and now they're around Storm's End. Nothing between us and the army at King's Landing now. All we can do is hide."

"But the Lannisters have retreated?"

"Aye, they 'ave an' all." He made the sign of the star. "Gods be good it stays that way."

"When I get back to Storm's End, I'll speak to my uncle and my father, see if we can get some soldiers sent up here."

She could feel the knights looking uncomfortable, but continued to speak to the hetman and the villagers. "Now, if I may ask, do you remember the day of the storm, the one that brought up the shipwreck on the beach not far from here?" She saw nods of assent from several villagers. "The days following that, some of you lost some clothes, I believe, left out to dry, but taken from the line?" More nods. "Who lost the clothes."

No one spoke. "Well speak up!" The hetman called.

Tentatively, a hand was raised. "It's alright, please come forward."

The crowd shuffled apart and out came a greying couple, with four younger women around them. "It was you who lost the clothes?"

"Yes, m'lady," said one of the younger women, looking away when Shireen looked at her.

"What was it you lost?"

"Cloaks, m'lady, four of them, brown, warm."

"That's them," Shireen said, bowing her head to the family. "I'm afraid the thief of those cloaks stands before you now." The family's eyes widened. "I was on that ship. I survived the wreck with three of my companions. We had to make it back to Storm's End on foot, and we needed clothes, we took yours, with no consideration for yourselves. I would offer you both my own apologies, and correct restitution." She beckoned back and one of the knights, Ser Steffon again, she noted, brought one of the mules forward. "I'm sorry if those cloaks had personal meaning to you, but they were ruined on the journey south, and in no condition to return. So I had new ones fashioned for you." She took one of the packs from the mule and passed it over to the greying man. "I hope they serve you well. I would also give you payment," she took her coin pouch out and passed them four silver stags for the cloaks. "And I hope this is enough that you might forgive me for the original theft."

One of the younger women, daughters, she expected, pulled out one of the cloaks, gasping at the fur trim, while the older woman was staring at the silvers in wonder. "Princess, this is too much I-"

Shireen held up her hand. "I won't hear a word saying it's too much, take them with my thanks." The family nodded and Shireen turned to the Hetman. "Now I fear the day turns dark, would it be much trouble for us to spend the night here?"

"No, princess, none at all, but I fear that we do not have many rooms."

"I will pay anyone who wishes to offer board to my knights, even if it's just a place on their floor. And my knights are no doubt hungry, they are very large men, but you have my promise, anything they take, they will pay for, and they will take nothing from any of you, that you do not wish to part with. If they do, find me, and I will make them pay you, or return what they took."

She had discussed this with the knights before going into the village, telling them to take rooms with the people, two at a time, just in case, and to pay the villagers for the trouble, she wanted to spread the silver to the people who she hadn't stolen from, so that resentment did not build among the rest of the village.

As her knights parted to purchase food and arrange board for themselves, Shireen turned to the Hetman. "Is there anything left of the ship that was wrecked?"

"Not much, princess, but a little yes."

She nodded, relieved. "Could you direct me to the beach?" The Hetman gave her directions and she thanked him. As she made to leave the village, she found her path blocked by Ser Steffon. "I'm not going far, ser, I just need to see the beach."

Steffon looked at her from behind his greathelm. "I'll accompany you, princess."

"That's unnecessary, its not far."

"By order of the king, you are to be escorted. I'll accompany you."

She sighed, but nodded, signalling to Aeriel who hurried over. She explained where she was going, and Aeriel, clearly remembering the horror of that night, asked to be left behind. She cupped the girl's cheek and promised she would be back soon, and set off toward the beach with Ser Steffon. They didn't take the horses as it wasn't far away, Ser Steffon remained close behind her.

They climbed down the path that she remembered taking a whole lifetime ago, not knowing what to expect. When she emerged, her breath hitched.

The bones of the ship were rotten and broken, falling along the sand so that it was nearly impossible to tell that it was a ship. But there were other bones that were clear. Learing and screaming skulls, twisted limbs and broken ribs half protruding from the sand like blooming mushrooms and twisted roots. She remembered the screams, the terror, the courage. She fell to her knees. "I'm sorry," she said to the dead. "I cannot claim to know how you suffered, or why the gods chose me to survive where you did not. But it is only thanks to the courage you showed that day, your skill on the waves, that I am alive at this moment. I am so sorry, all of you. I cannot even pray for you individually as I do not know your names, but nor could I ever truly repay you. I am so sorry. I will try to do well with the life given to me by your sacrifice. Thank you, all of you. I wish you peace."

"Why do you do that?"

She turned her head to Ser Steffon, angered at his interruption. "What?"

"Why do you say that, they are dead, they died in our service?"

"Because I owe them thanks for their service, if they deserve nothing else, they deserve that."

"And the villagers? Why do you give them silver? New cloaks? You are a princess?"

She stood and turned. "Because they are fighting for us. We must do right by them, or what else is there?"

"What do you mean? You fight for your family's rights?"

She held in a snort of laughter. "Look at me, Ser Steffon," she spread her arms. "Do I look like I am fighting for my family's rights? No, they are fighting for my rights, I am a woman, my father is sat in his castle grumbling about how the world has wronged him. They fight for our rights, and so we have to make this world a better place for them in turn. We understood that once. We must remember it, or the blood shed in our name is for nothing." Ser Steffon was silent at that. "We must make the world better. For the living and the dead. All who fought to get us here."

Ser Steffon stared at her, she could feel his eyes on her, a hard gaze, she could tell. Then he strode past her, took a length of wood that was broken off the ship. "I will be back, princess." He turned and strode away, leaving her to mourn the lost.

Not long after, she heard him trudging back down the path and he emerged, behind him came two more knights and three squires, all of them with digging equipment. "We bought it from the villagers," Ser Steffon explained. He was carrying two shovels, one over his shoulder, one in his other hand. He held the second one out to them. "You may not be able to honour them fully, but they can at least be buried."

She reached out and took the shovel. Ser Steffon marched to the end of the beach, right by the cliff, and pushed his shovel into the sand. "Here will do." He paused. "If you agree, princess?"

She nodded, hefting her shovel. "I do."

They worked in silence. Digging into the sand and shovelling it away to start creating a wide pit. As time passed, more knights came to find out what had happened. As it was explained to them, they either went back to fetch more equipment, used broken pieces of ship, or their scabbards to join in the work. Some looked uneager, but at the sight of Ser Steffon and Shireen digging themselves, joined in. When some got too tired from the digging, they busied themselves searching the ruins of the ship for the bones of the dead sailors. She knew they wouldn't get all of them, but this felt right at least. It took them hours to make a hole deep enough, and when they were done, they placed the bones inside and filled it in. There was no septon, and Dewberry wasn't big enough to have a sept of its own, most of its services provided by wandering septons who passed by from time to time. Shireen did what she could to say prayers over the mass grave so that they might pass on in peace.

By the time they made it back to the village, it was growing dark, the dark blue sky shivered in the light of open fires in the village that had been started. Tables had been pulled out and lain out with food, she saw Aeriel working to lay things out, back in her element from her time in Pentos, barrels of ale were set to the side and many chairs and tree stumps provided.

Hetman Tomas smiled at her when she returned, offering her a cup of ale, which she used to slake her thirst. "We thought this was a way we could honour your visit, princess," Tomas said, "we hope you don't mind joining us. You have paid for it, after all."

"I have?" She asked, then remembered her promise. "Of course I have, yes. Will the village be joining us?"

"We were hoping everyone would come, the village, and your knights."

She bowed her head. "We'd be honoured." She approached Ser Richard, who was talking with one of the families.

"Princess," he bowed. "This family have agreed to let you stay with them tonight, they have a spare room, so you and your handmaiden will be welcome there."

She turned to the family. "I thank you, I'm honoured."

"The honour is ours princess," the master of the house said, his young children looking at Shireen in wonder.

"I hope to see you at the dinner," she said to them. "But I fear I need to speak with my knight for just a moment."

The family left and she pulled Ser Richard aside. "Who's idea was this?" She asked.

Richard nodded at Aeriel. "She suggested it, after Ser Steffon returned, explaining what was going to happen."

"And everyone agreed?"

"Ser Steffon did, and the others followed."

"Why?"

He couldn't stop a smile spreading across his lips. "Perhaps you should ask him that."

"What do you mean?"

The smile vanished. "I can't say princess, I'm sorry." He bowed and left her alone.

As the other guests sat down with the villagers, Shireen found Ser Steffon standing aside, looking out towards the sea. "Ser Steffon." He turned to her. "I wanted to thank you, for the grave."

"It was the right thing to do," he said, not looking at her. "Thank you." He added.

"For what?"

"Reminding me." His voice was hard, like it was about to crack.

"Reminding you of what?"

"Why we fight. I'd forgotten. For so long I'd forgotten. And if those sailors hadn't saved you, if I'd lost you like I lost my parents, I never would've learned." He reached up and pulled off his helmet, revealing a strong face, with black hair around his brow like the shadow of a crown, sunken cheeks and strong blue eyes.

"Father!" She threw herself at him in a tight hug, not caring that he was encased in steel.

"I'm so sorry, Shireen," he whispered in her ear, squeezing her tight.

She couldn't help the tears. "I thought I'd lost you."

"You didn't lose me. I lost myself. You found me again."

They stayed like that, until the calls from the fires got too loud. "You should join them," he told her.

"Join us as well," she asked, taking his hand.

"No," he said. "This is your night, I'll keep watch, let the village remember the day Shireen Baratheon visited, not king Stannis."

She wanted to implore him, but he needed this. She leant up and kissed his cheek. "I'll have some food sent."

He smiled. "Just sing loud enough for me to hear you."

"Who said I was going to sing?" He raised and eyebrow and she giggled. Of course she was. "As you wish, father." She turned to head back then paused. "Did all the knights know?"

He nodded. "All the ones that came with me, Ser Richard I only told today."

"Why did you come?"

"I wanted to see what you were doing, you kept saying it was the right thing to do and I had to see it for myself."

"And?"

"You were right." He pulled his helm back on and turned back to the sea. "Go and enjoy the evening."

She nodded and went back to the fires. When she looked over her shoulder, she still saw him, a king standing watch thanklessly, so that others may enjoy a night away from the darkness.