~ Epilogue ~
Pain was his ultimate and relentless companion for years, ridiculing his existence and the ruinous choices he had made. Squalls were the worst; his leg would ache so terribly that he deliberated having a maester take the whole thing off.
Rain pelted him in a sideways volley, permeating every layer he wore, but still he turned the earth. Deliberate and without haste, his errand came to an end. With little effort, he rammed the marker into the sopping ground, exhibiting this one's final resting place. Every name, no matter the letters, was hers.
And he knew it was wrong that a highborn lady should rest on the Quiet Isle instead of being laid low with her kin in the crypts of Winterfell, but he was himself; a dog who would not share his bones.