"You wanted to see me, Lord Stark?"

Ned sighed. "She was my daughter… I loved her too. I won't say I understand. I'm not you. But you must know that decree you ordered. I halted its issuing."

Velander sighed. "Why?"

"Think, Your Grace… it's a large reward. You don't think some ambitious fool might try to claim it by bringing in a falsely accused enemy of theirs or, perhaps, some random person?"

Velander's fist tightened around the arm of his chair, and he sighed. "Bah…". He narrowed his eyes. "You're probably right." He sipped his wine. "We still have to find the bastard, though." He cleared his throat. "You disobeyed me, but… at least you had a good reason."

"I need your permission to go to Winterfell and… and bury her."

Velander nodded. "Of course, you should. Just let a ceremony be held here first."

"Yes… she was your wife; it's only proper. I must go to the godswood."

"Of course, by all means."

Velander headed to the gardens. He'd only been married to her for a few weeks… but he'd grown to love her. He would remarry, of course. As king, he needed an heir. But for now, he…

"Velander?"

He turned and, seeing who'd greeted him, he smiled. "Arya… how goes?"

"I heard Lady Olenna speaking with Lady Margaery… she mentioned marrying you."

"Hmmm…"

"I think the Tyrells might have had something to do with… with Sansa."

"Interesting… but I can't accuse them without hard evidence."

Arya handed Velander a small piece of parchment. "Filched this from Margaery's rooms while she wasn't there."

Velander opened the parchment and cocked an eyebrow. "Seems to be a list of ingredients… they say Sansa was poisoned. Possibly a recipe for something nasty?"

"Varys might know something."

"Thank you, Arya." He handed her five gold dragons. "Keep looking."

Velander next went to his chambers to look over the parchment Arya had given him. When he opened it, a smaller piece fell from it. Velander unraveled it.

Your Grace-

I fear ill news travels fast. I am aware of your wife's unfortunate death. You have done House Targaryen a great service with your invitation to your court. Know that my brother stands against you. Be on your guard. I stole this from him at great peril, and must make this brief. You have my sympathies.

Yours in haste,

Daenerys Targaryen

"Why, then… was it in Lady Margaery's room of all places…?"He narrowed his eyes. "Some bastard had to have planted it. But who…?"

He sighed. Tomorrow, Daenerys would be here, as would her brother. He had to welcome them properly. There would be a feast tomorrow. At least Velander could look forward to that.

"Damn it all to shit…" he said thickly.