The old woman stares out across the moorlands that run South from Castle Black, her home for nearly twenty years. Her prison. She has outlived the man who was her brother, her sister, all her family, other than her daughter, who lives still in Braavos, a Magistra of the Iron Bank. King Roderick granted her permission, two years ago, to meet Catelyn and her sons at Eastwatch, but she doubts if they will ever meet again. Her cough has worsened in recent months, and she suspects it will not improve. Her visitors are few, and she prefers it that way. She enjoyed some notoriety during the first years she was here, but most of her visitors were drawn by prurient curiosity, she soon realised.
Her trial had ended with her being convicted of three charges of murder. She was either acquitted of the rest, or convicted of manslaughter instead. The Court had accepted that she was not directly guilty of enslavement, but held that she had recklessly endangered the lives and liberty of those she had deported. They had declined to rule on the issue of oathbreaking, and had determined that her crimes were not covered by sovereign immunity from prosecution. As a convicted murderer, of high birth, she had been sentenced to death by the sword, such sentence to be suspended for so long as she remained confined to a fortress. Jon had suggested she be sent to Castle Black. "We deserve each other" he insisted. He had smiled nastily at the judges, telling them there was always work for servants up at Castle Black, even those who lacked a hand. For a time, he had delighted in finding offensive tasks for her to perform, cleaning latrines and floors, or hauling coal. After several months, that came to an end, due to pressure from Arya. Her and Jon's mutual hatred had gradually cooled down to indifference, over the years. Her daughter and Lady Maege made funds available to let her live in reasonable comfort.
Jon died three years ago, Arya nine months previously. Lady Maege, who visits her occasionally, and writes continuously, tells her that Bran is dying. But, he has been witless for so long that it will make no difference to the South. In truth, they have been without a decent ruler for nearly eighty years, when King Aegon died at Summerhall. There is talk, apparently, of abolishing the Southern monarchy completely, instituting a council of nobles instead. She sighs, turning to walk back along the parapet, to the steps that lead to her chambers. Ever since she was young, she dreamed of being a great ruler. Instead she became the Queen Who Lost the North. What did her plots and schemes amount to in the end? Nothing but ashes and dead ends. She knows she will shortly breathe her last. What will await her, then? Hopefully, nothing at all. Otherwise, nothing that can be good.