Crying
She had never seen the Queen like this.
Of course she hadn't known the Queen for a long time, she had only been a nurse at Winterfell for a few moons and during the time she had been there the queen was always very... well, regal. She handled lords and peasants with both kindness and a steady certainty. She cared for her subjects and was merciful but she was never hesitant to dispense justice when she saw fit.
She knew from talks amongst the staff that the queen was also ruthless to her enemies, those who had sought to harm her and her family such as the former Lord of the Vale and her last husband, a horrid monster by all accounts, had died horribly at her command. Once, she had even overheard the queen herself say that one of her few regrets was that she hadn't poisoned King Jeoffrey herself.
The Queen of the North, as far as it concerned her subjects, was a woman made of Valyrian steel, strong as no other, forged in fire and pain, beautiful, calm and certain.
So, the last thing Shelya expected while she expertly tended to the feverish knight who had been brought unconscious and badly injured to the keep's medical rooms was the Queen rushing in a blind panic, demanding to know what happened and about to burst into tears.
A part of her wanted to tell the queen that she shouldn't be here, amongst bloodied bandages and illness, but looking at the distressed woman right now she replied honestly, " I- apparently an arrow got him in the shoulder two days ago your grace, they tended to his wounds as best as they knew, but couldn't do much to stop the infection".
"Two days ago?" Queen Sansa asked with a cracked voice.
"They soldiers said they couldn't get here faster, because of the weather, your grace"
The queen swallowed hard and visibly blanched "Is he- is he going to die?"
"We- we don't know how far the infection has spread… we're about to seal his wounds"
And that's when Sansa saw the maester readying a hot piece of iron. She looked like someone had punched her.
"Your grace" she said gently, "maybe you should leave".
But the queen refused, instead she fell to the knight's bedside and held his hand. "I just- I have to be with him " she justified "just... tell me if I'm getting in your way. I'll move".
The maester said she could stay but warned her that it was not going to be pretty and that she should be ready in case Podrick awoke from the pain.
Podrick, Shelya thought, now she recognized the knight. No wonder the queen was so worried, word around the castle was that she favored him above all others.
He seemed like a kind man but Shelya had never really interacted with him. He would come and go on official missions with the authority of both the Northern and Southern kingdoms. When he was in Winterfell, he would help command guards and groups of rangers sometimes. Mostly, he participated in court and councils, which made sense seeing as he was an emissary to both kingdoms, he also acted as a queen's guard, which made less sense seeing as the queen already had a solid, very loyal group of guards keeping her safe.
Yes, everyone knew that when Ser Podrick was in Winterfell you could almost always find him by the Queen. Evidently, a near mortal wound was not going to be the exception.
When the maester used the iron on the wound Podrick woke up screaming in pain, and the queen was there holding his hand tightly, his eyes were wild at first but when he focused on her face he seemed to relax.
"Sansa?" it was a weak sigh. But he was there.
The queen nodded, smiled and whispered sweet nothings to calm him down. Shelya didn't think that she was even aware that she was crying. The relief at seeing Podrick waking up was short lived, however, the maester had to finish cauterizing the wounds.
"Hey, look at me Podrick" Sansa told him to try and distract him, she smiled at him through the tears "you're going to be fine" the maester took the opportunity to press the iron to Podick's flesh. His scream was agonizing, he fell unconscious once more.
The maester was uncertain about Podrick's fate, he stated that if he made it through the night, he might make it yet.
The queen stayed the night and day by his side. When the fever broke and Podrick woke up, she remained, she asked Shelya what to do, what to give him if he woke up, she helped change his bandages, she would feed him and help him drink water and medicine.
All through the ordeal, Queen Sansa kept whispering sweet nothings to her knight, holding and kissing his hands, removing his hair from his forehead sweaty, sometimes when he was awake, sometimes as he fell asleep. When he woke, he would often take the queen's hands in his bringing them to his face or lips for a kiss that would make the queen smile. It was a sight to behold and Shelya would find herself staring at the pair and then catching herself and diverting her gaze. It was a private, sweet thing what she witnessed and she didn't want them to feel observed.
A week later, when the maesters declared him risk-free and in the way to a full recovery they sent him to spend the rest of his recovery in his own chambers, two doors away from the queen's, Shelya mused. Once Podrick was settled in his room Sansa hugged Shelya unexpectedly and thanked her with the brightest smile ever she ever received.
She had never seen the Queen like this.