Aurelia's welcome to Last Hearth was less cold but more conflicting than she had prepared for - even after two nights, the Umbers sat at odds with one another as much as with any suggestion that they choose a definitive side. She understood their plight, yet it was difficult seeing a once trusted group of allies hold such uncertainty. On her third day, she found out why.

One of the Smalljon's daughters, a girl of eleven, came to Aurelia's room before the midday meal with tears in her eyes.

"What is it, young one?" Aurelia asked when the girl appeared at her door, sniffling. The girl wiped the back of her sleeve across her eyes, then took a deep breath. "I'm sorry, my lady it's just-" The girl huffed again, and Aurelia could see her fighting back another barrage of tears.

"Come in," Aurelia gestured to her guest chambers and the girl shuffled inside. Her name was Melan, but her family called her Pippa. Closing the door behind them, Aurelia studied the girl. She was smaller than Aurelia remembered Arya being at that age, carrying a heavy weight on her with a family destroyed by war, her father being one major casualty.

"Come sit by the fire and tell me what's wrong," Aurelia said softly.

"I shouldn't," she shook her head. "My great nuncles will be angry at me for knowing."

Aurelia gave her a small, knowing smile. "Women learn many things in the company of men they'd rather we not know. It's part of their punishment for ignoring our council and abilities."

Pippa coughed and inched toward Aurelia. "Will you keep it secret?"

"So long as the secret keeping does not endanger a good person, of course."

"No, just bad people," Pippa declared in a harsh whisper.

"As bad as the Freys?"

"Near as," Pippa spat, then wiped her mouth on her dress.

"Well, seeing as you're calming down, why don't we sort it out together, hmm?"

Aurelia moved toward the fire and the girl followed. She looked to Pippa again, the girl's hair a mess of curls pulled back against her head and pinned tightly in a bun.

"You know what?" Aurelia said, reaching for her comb sitting on a table near the fireplace within easy reach of her tub.

"What?" Pippa asked, eyeing her.

"I bet you have lovely curls, but they seem always to be pulled back tightly. Why not let them breathe?"

Pippa shrugged. "No one knows what to do with them. Most of the ladies in my family have straight hair."

Aurelia knelt on a large eplt before the fire. "Time you learned for yourself then, hmm? Come sit here and tell me what you heard, and I'll reshape your hair into something practical, easy, and better suited to you. What do you say?"

Pippa studied Aurelia's hair for a moment, as if deciding whether or not the older girl could help her. Then she sighed and plopped down in front of Aurelia. Aurelia made a twirling motion with her finger, and Pippa turned to face away from her. As Aurelia began pulling pins out of Pippa's hair and setting them on the rug, Pippa sighed.

"They keep saying they won't fight each other, that we can't fight Umber against Umber, but they won't stop yelling at each other."

"That's what men do sometimes." Aurelia unwound the tight bun. "When they're upset they tend not to cry but to yell or hit, sometimes both, sometimes neither. Others are silent, and that can be more dangerous. Roaring means they're releasing frustration. Still, it's unsettling, I know." She started running her comb through the girl's hair, smoothing her fingers along behind on the ringlets.

"It's not their fault," Pippa sniffed. "The fighting. They're scared."

"And that scares you."

Pippa nodded.

"These are scary times."

Pippa turned her head back toward Aurelia. "Do you want to go back to war?"

Aurelia turned Pippa's head back. "Face forward. And no, I don't. Few people want war in their life, particularly after they experience it."

"Lord Bolton does," Pippa said softly.

"Is that what your uncles fought about?"

Pippa shrugged. "He wants them to go to a wedding. His son is marrying some highborn girl. I didn't hear who. Nuncle Hother says the men should go, support the new Warden of the North. Nuncle Mors wants to fight. He said the Boltons are just as guilty as the Freys in killing my father and capturing granddad. Worse even."

Aurelia had begun twisting the girl's hair up in sections and pinning it in place on the top of her head. "Worse how?"

"They say Lord Roose killed King Robb, stabbed him through the chest. And if he'd do that to his liege lord, his king, he would do it to anyone. But Hother says they have no choice. They have to support him. How can they support someone so wicked?"

"Because they're afraid. They're trying to preserve their family."

"But if they don't trust him, how can they pretend it?"

"Family means a great deal, you know that, yes?"

"Yes."

"It's harder to let go of that notion the older some people get. Loyalties can be broken and reforged and even faked for the sake of family." Aurelia curled tendrils around her fingers, letting each one fall after holding it a few seconds.

"Why not just fight the Boltons? Winterfell is a ruin and many people hate them."

"You know the saying of house Stark?"

"Winter is coming."

"It's truer now than most times. A war in winter bodes well for no one if it is not swift. The Boltons are now allied with the Lannisters and no fighting with them will be swift."

"And what about King Stannis? Would a war be swift fighting for him?"

"It may be, depending on how many join him, and how many join the Boltons, or the ironborn."

"Why did you join him?"

"He saved me when he could have killed me, or held me as a hostage. He saved my friends at the Wall. And he'll do better trying to repair the north than anyone else who seems to want it right now."

"Did you love king Robb?"

The question struck Aurelia. She inhaled sharply. "What do you mean?"

"He was your king, and your betrothed once, yes?"

"He was."

"Did you love him?"

"Turn around." The girl complied, scooting around the face Aurelia. She played with a few strands of Pippa's hair. "You'll learn one day that marriage pacts often have little to do with love, as does fealty to your lord or king. And there are many kinds of love. But," she sighed, "Robb was my friend since childhood. I may not have loved him as a wife should, or as a loyal subject does their royal leader, but yes, I loved him. Very much."

"Do you love Stannis?"

A smile broke Aurelia's features. "No. But I trust him. I trust his word, and I trust that he wants what's best for the north, for all of us. And trust is something to be valued as much as love, if not more."

Pippa stared at her for a moment, processing as Aurelia pulled a small section of hair from behind Pippa's ear, letting it fall alongside her face.

"There. All done." Aurelia rose and went to take the small mirror from the table where she replaced the comb. "Do you like it?"

Pippa reached for the mirror and studied herself, turning her head from side to side.

"Is it too tight?"

"No," Pippa replied. "It feels fine. I like it. It's different than my sister's, or mother's."

"It's easy to do. If you want I'll show you with my hair."

"Later, yes please. I was supposed to come get you for the midday meal. I just - what will we say?"

"That I wanted a doll to play with for a few minutes?" Aurelia smiled.

Pippa laughed. "I wouldn't believe that of you. I could say I asked you to, though."

"You won't get in trouble?"

"Not if you tell them it was all right."

"Of course it's all right. Talking to men all the time gets boring. Let's go eat, hmm?"

Pippa set the mirror on the table, then reached out her hand toward Aurelia. "I like you, lady Moors."

Aurelia clasped the girl's hand and they walked toward to the door. "I like you too, little one."

"I'm going to tell nuncle Mors I like you. Nuncle Hother, too, but I don't think he'll listen much. They don't want to fight each other, but they already are."

"Well, let's see what we can do about that," Aurelia smiled.