ayaxo157: I was actually debating on that but I decided last minute that it wasn't the time. thank you for reviewing!

Tate horan: No problem!

AndrianaWarrior7: I really like how slowly their relationship is developing as well.

marie potter riddle: Oh that would have been such a good addition! That's such a good idea.

Basker: More explanation on her powers this chapter lol!

Chapter Twenty-Eight: The Boy in the Dirt

Robb and Royce spoke of consequences. They spoke of the child that Lysa Arryn would leave behind and the anger that he would have for the King in the North and for his witch of a wife that had torn apart the Great Hall of the Vale in her fury. They talked of who would stay and remain as the Vale's guardian until a more suitable replacement could be found. They talked over many, many things - things that I tried to keep hold of but could not.

The fact remained that I was new to my position of Queen in the North, and my knowledge was limited. I knew little of the trade that came from the Vale or the strategic foothold that it possessed for Robb and his new empire. I knew even less about how it would impact the North and the relationship we held with them when a house like the Arryns would suddenly be dethroned.

"It would be wise to allow me to stay here with Lord Mormont," Catelyn was saying, her eyes heavy with fatigue, her voice softer than usual. To anyone else but those who had known her for more than a week, she could have been seen as nothing more than a calm breeze in an otherwise chaotic landscape. But there was a slope to her shoulders, a slight curve to her spine that made me all too aware of the fact that her sister and childhood friend were currently being readied for execution. Cool blue eyes flicked around the room. "His abilities as a leader are well known, and I'm sure the running of the Vale will be in good hands with him and Lord Royce taking charge. However, someone needs to take care of Lysa's child. Someone needs to guide him."

Robb was already shaking his head, his shoulder stiff, jaw clenching as if the idea physically repulsed him. His eyes were the coldest steel as he turned to stare down the table at his mother. "We're leaving tonight-"

"I won't be staying here for more time than it takes to allow for the next guardian-" she soothed.

Royce was still staring down at a set of papers - possibly the guard details or maybe the tolls that needed to be paid. A mountain of a man sat just beside him, his hair a russet tone, course like sheep wool and wild. He, too, wore armor just as Robb did and just as Royce now did too. His eyes were critical and shrewd beneath bushy brows giving him a much more serious disposition than the wrinkles around his lips would suggest. Lord Mormont was a man accustomed to smiling, it seemed.

Robb's words were harsh as he cut in. "This isn't the responsibility-"

"Isn't it?" Her words sharpened, slicing through the air like the sharpest blade. Her eyes had turned a chilling blue. I could see the sadness there suddenly, a lone light burning in the darkest parts of her. She stared across the table at her son like she wanted him to tell her something different - something to make her change her mind just a little bit. But there was nothing that he or I could say to lessen this blow. The truth was that we had lured Baelish and Lysa into a trap and that now they would pay for the steps that had led to them there. "That little boy is the son of my sister - my nephew. Your cousin. Tell me again how this isn't my responsibility."

Her words were fraught with self-loathing, sharp, and bitter. Royce and Mormont glanced up from their work, their eyes darkening with pity. There was no pity in Robb's gaze, though - no wavering as he stared across the table at his mother. Kings didn't have room for pity - that emotion was a weakness that led to holes, led to bleeding. Once a decision was made of this magnitude, there was no going back. To go back would be a weakness, and even old kings wouldn't survive very long with the blemish. Robb, a young king in his own right, certainly couldn't.

"He will hate you." His words were a soft, vicious slap, and even from the other end of the table, I saw how they slammed into Catelyn, making her flinch. "He will know about the execution of his mother and the man who -I'm sure - she's been pushing as his father. He will know, and he will hate every single breath that you draw. If you think that he will listen and learn from you then you are wrong."

Catelyn's lips tightened into a thin, white line. Robb was right. Lysa's boy would hold the agony of this day for the rest of his life - no matter how much we shielded him, no matter how much we gave him. We would always be the people who had slaughtered his family. My eyes drifted to where Theon rested, his shoulder resting against the wall of the corner he stood in, both of his hands resting atop the hilt of his blade where it was held in his belt. A sudden spark lit inside my mind.

"My King," I murmured, earning the attention of the room. I turned my gaze from Theon, watching as Robb sent his mother one last fervent glance before turning to me. "I think it would be a good idea to leave your mother behind to oversee Robin." I could see the urge to argue bubbling up inside of him, pressing to be let loose, so I hurried on. "The painful truth is that we stand the risk of allowing a child who is already spoiled and too attached to his mother to immortalize her image for the rest of his life. In truth, we might be looking at a future with a now-grown leader who wants to cut off both our heads in loving memory of his mother."

"We could always completely remove Robin Arryn from the throne," Mormont suggested his voice a rumbling growl with a hint of an accent that I couldn't entirely detect. Royce's head tipped to the side, considering.

My eyes slipped to his, brows raising. "And how would that look to the rest of the North?" No one answered. Robb's fingers were playing with my skirts under the table, rolling the material between his fingers in contemplation, brows furrowed as he listened to me. Catelyn's brows were furrowed in much the same expression. I tipped my head to the side, thinking of how my father would view it, what he would say as my brothers scurried behind him. "The King in the North - can he take any house he wants? Do they come to visit and slaughter the whole bunch, throwing out the rightful claim of the children as well? It looks bad enough that we came here with heavily wounded soldiers and received care before executing the Lady of the Vale."

A long silence held after me, the suddenly darkening mood casting a noticeable dip in the previously spirited debate.

"Well done, My Queen." Theon whistled, his green eyes lighting mischievously. For the first time, I didn't feel the overwhelming urge to stride across the room and strangle him. His gaze swept the room. "As a former ward, I would advise against dragging him back to Winterfell until he comes of age. The best thing to do is allow him to stay in the home that he has even if it feels like you're releasing him to his own devices."

Robb's face darkened further, his hand releasing my skirts suddenly to rub tiredly at his eyes. We had all been up for far too long - the ups and downs of the previous few nights seeming unbearably heavy. I didn't know how long it had taken him to orchestrate this whole thing, but I could only assume that he had been getting far less sleep than I had. Beneath his eyes, hidden admirably by the thick splay of his lashes as the hypnotic hue of his irises, the hours spent speaking with his army and carefully maneuvering around the Vale were evident.

"Leaving my mother is our best option," Robb finally said, his words unbearably unhappy, a long breath slipping silently from him as he scrubbed a hand over his eyes, pushing back the wayward mass of curls that was threatening to slip forward.

I nodded, pressing a reassuring hand to his arm. Robb didn't look at me, a sullen expression pressing against his normally aloof exterior. "With her here, we have a chance to salvage our relationship with Robin." My eyes slipped to Catelyn, not missing the wary way that she was staring at me. Right now, she was too close to the situation - a heartless thing to say but one that was entirely true. I didn't blame her for eyeing me as if I was the coldest creature that she had ever seen. With my display earlier, it was a miracle that she had even agreed to sit at the same table as me. "I won't demean you with an overview of what your life will look like with him."

Her eyes flicked to where Theon was, his head turned thoughtfully toward the narrow window beside him, his face carefully blank. Memories tightened Catelyn's face, her blue gaze going dark with wariness. "Yes. I have a good idea."

"If trouble arises, come back to Winterfell immediately." Robb's gaze slid from his mother to the mountain of the man beside Royce, his expression hard as steel. "Both of you."

"Yes, your grace," Mormont promised immediately, his head dipping in acknowledgment, Catelyn's voice a softer agreement behind his.

"Good." Robb nodded, moving to get up. "Now-"

"I think-" Catelyn's voice still whatever movement that had started, her eyes trained on me. My stomach sunk lower in my abdomen, the nagging worry inside of me flaring back to life. I had thought that I had carefully steered the conversation away from what had occurred in the Great Hall long enough to where I wouldn't have to address it today. That was foolishly optimistic. Catelyn's eyes were cold as she looked at me, her smile even frostier. "We have something to address."

I gulped down the nauseous pool of saliva currently taking up residence beneath my tongue. I didn't allow myself the luxury of looking away from her eyes. "Yes. Yes, I think we do, Lady Stark."

Her smile warmed a fraction. "I'm glad that we agree." Her head tipped to where Royce and Mormont were looking rather too interested in the papers sitting before them. "Gentleman, would you please give us a moment?"

"My Lady," Royce said humbly, bowing deeply as he and the other man exited. Both looked rather dejected that they weren't going to be privy to the oncoming conversation. I couldn't say that I shared the sentiment. At the moment, I would have given a great deal to be in their positions instead.

Theon went to leave as well, bowing his head toward where Robb and I sat. Robb shook his head. "I think it would be best for you to stay, Theon."

Sea-foam eyes slid to me, his gaze considering. It was the look of someone who didn't particularly think they were involved and didn't know if they were happy about the sudden inclusion or concerned by it. Slowly, his head bowed. "Yes, Your Grace."

A moment of thick silence ticked by before the door to the chamber creaked open, admitting Sansa, her red-hair wind ruffled and cheeks bitten red from the cold outside. She had taken up the task of organizing some of the kitchen staff, calming them, and starting the preparations for our journey. In all honesty, she had jumped at the chance, clearly more than eager to leave the Vale. Her eyes instantly slid to me, holding my gaze for longer than I expected, her striking blue eyes wary as they watched me.

Down the hallway, I heard a chorus of cries and bit down on my own strained response as my plants withered, responding to my anxiety.

Robb's gaze ticked to the door, considering before they drifted to me. "A bit nervous, kitten?"

I didn't bother with more than a glare, taking a deep breath before focusing on the others at the table. "You have questions."

Theon snorted, settling back in his place against the wall as if he wanted to keep as much distance between us as possible. "A bit of an understatement." His eyes danced although I thought it was a humorless kind of laughter that I saw there. "You almost strangled Lysa Arryn with - what was it? Moss? Cord?"

"Vines," I gritted out, my shoulders going up, every muscle in my body knotting at the obvious discomfort that my presence caused the others at the table. My gaze slid to the table as I drew in another long, steadying breath. "I have the ability to control plants."

I didn't add that this was only a guess. From all the evidence so far, it seemed that my talents lay in creating these vines? If they could be called that. I had never seen anything like it out in nature before.

"For how long?" Catelyn asked, and I flinched, my lips thinning as I debated whether to tell them the truth. Would it be too much to say that I had made a pact with a goddess so that I would live? Would being born with this be any better? In truth, I wasn't entirely sure if my abilities were a complete effect of what had happened or if it had just removed the last block that my mother created.

I parsed out my words, trying to think through it all. "I…" My shoulders slumped. The truth was that Chaos had only truly been aware of my presence after I had had my ribs crushed, my insides pulverized in that attack. "I was dying." I could see the moment that everything clicked, the sudden recollection of how serious my injuries had been, how the medicine woman had more than likely told them that I was a lost cause. And then miraculously I had recovered. How odd. How strange. "After the attack on our caravan, my injuries were…massive. I could feel myself… slipping away."

Beside me, Robb shifted, and I caught the tightening of his jaw, the muscles in his neck constricting as he glared at some spot in the brick walls around us. He looked like he wanted to sink his teeth into the world and tear out a chunk in that moment.

I took another breath before continuing on. "I made a deal - a deal with a goddess in return for my life." The drawing of breath was an audible thing. I had had their attention before this moment, but now it felt sharper, more cutting. "My mother and her mother before her had struck a pact with this goddess - one that would allow us safety from being hunted by mortal men and killed. I - I'm not sure if… if our abilities come from her or if we were born with them but either way, almost dying completely unsealed mine. She's basically-"

I stopped, sudden shame making the words feel tight in my throat. They clogged, clustering at my jugular. The lines of stone swirled, sliding closer together as I watched.

"Willa?" Robb's voice was gentle even though I could still see that anger rolling, lapping at the icy silver of his irises.

"I chose life," I whispered, feeling a bit numb. "I have to fulfill whatever request she asks of me."

Pregnant silence hung around us, the moments ticking by so slowly that I had to glance to the narrow windows along the wall to make sure that the sun hadn't gone down yet. Before this moment, perhaps I had been staving off the reality. Maybe I had convinced myself that it was part fiction. Saying it out loud made it suddenly, glaringly real. I felt very afraid in that moment - scared of what I would become and scared of what Chaos would ask of me.

"Well," Catelyn said on a deep inhale, looking shell-shocked. "That is a… lot of information. Thank you, Willa sweetie."

Theon rolled his eyes, the expression slightly dulled by the obvious terror that leeched all the color from his face. "It's a fucking disaster is what it is."

"Theon," Catelyn snapped in warning.

"What?" He waved a hand in a vague gesture. "Communing with gods is never a good sign."

I had to agree with him. People liked the draw of the unknown. What they didn't take well to was the sudden knowledge that someone else might know what was on the other side. They would hunt me down and put my head on a spike long before someone would finally have the sense to call me a martyr.

"You said your mother was…." Sansa's brows furrowed as she tried to search out a word.

"A witch," I supplied softly, uncomfortable with the term. "She called me a witch."

"Could they… manipulate plants as well?" she asked, and I felt the question like ice shoved down my throat.

I didn't find words immediately. The brief glimpses of my mother I had in memory were… haunting. I loved the lady who held my father back, who kept the halls running and whispered stories to my brother and me. But there was the other side - the darker one that sometimes would rear its head in the very back of my mind. She hadn't been all good. Perhaps marrying someone like Walder Frey, she had never had a chance at that word.

"She…" I struggled to find the words. "One time, I remember going to our bath house. There was a kitten that used to come and hang around the back entrance, and we would feed him spare scraps. My brother and I loved that kitten. We wanted to name her and take her back, but our father… Well, she had gotten pregnant and…." I took a breath, trying and failing to hide how much the story unnerved me. Beside me, Robb reached out, a finger skimming along my cheek in silent encouragement. "Some children from town found her by accident. They… they opened her up and hung her from a branch just by the bathing house door." I swallowed around my own nauseous at the memory. "My mother found the kids, and she… She broke all of their hands to the point that they were never able to use them fully again." I gulped down my own sickness, forcing my eyes up to see all of their pale expressions. "That was her gift. Bone breaking. Bloodletting. She could pulverize someone from the inside out with a mere thought."

I put on a wavering smile, the look of abject horror on all of their faces humiliating. "And my grandmother was a healer."

It felt unnervingly light after such darkness.

Catelyn's smile was a forced, withered thing. "A varied family history then."

The silence that followed was enough of an answer.

Robb was the first to speak. "The task this goddess wants you to do - what is it? Is there a… time frame?"

I was already shaking my head. "I don't know. She won't tell me. First, I needed to understand and be able to use my powers correctly, but…"

My lips sealed, pressing back the truth.

Robb's eyes were gentle as he watched me. "You've been repressing it."

I gave a jerky nod, unsure how he knew that. A guess, perhaps. He couldn't possibly have noticed… I stared at the strong lines of his face, the unflinching directness of his gaze. Could he?

"We can't overlook what this will mean for you two." Catelyn's voice cut across the room.

Sansa's voice followed quickly and steadily behind. "Your name will be stamped in history from this moment on. Within a week, everyone from here to King's Landing will be hearing about the girl from the Twins who enshrined the Vale's Great Hall in killing vines."

"Can you remove them?" Catelyn asked, her eyes sharp.

I gritted out a breath, turning my attention back to the vines that were currently withering along the walls and ceiling, wrapping lovingly around the Moon Door as if they could sense the final judgment it had given more than one person. Mentally, I urged them to go back. I'm not in danger anymore, I pleaded, trying to shove against the tendrils, trying to drag them back through the holes in the wall. They had wrapped fully around the exterior of the tower, gnawing through the bricks and mortar so much that if I removed them…

I slumped. "If I take them away now, the whole structure of that side of the Vale will go with it. They've ripped through nearly all of the connecting structure. The only thing keeping it up currently is my plants."

"Lovely." Theon blew out a quick, harsh breath, dragging a hand through his hair.

"Then they stay," Robb said. "The Great Hall being redecorated is better than tearing half the Vale apart on our exit."

The steady waters of Catelyn's eyes slid to me, her voice unfaltering even as I could sense the inner struggle that she was having. Miracles weren't unheard of in the land of Westeros but they were fraught with darkness. There was always a price to pay for the unexpected, the breathtaking. And I wasn't entirely sure if I was prepared to pay it. "I suggest, My Queen, that you learn how to control your powers. Today it turned out in our favor but tomorrow…."

She didn't need to finish her sentence. I fully understood.

The wind atop the steps that overlooked the courtyard of the Vale was cutting, bitter and rageful as it whipped the heavy weight of my hair away from my raw cheeks. Instinctive tears dampened my lashes, turning to chilled water and then ice as I waited, listening to Lord Mormont's strong voice as he roared out the charges. On their knees, shivering, Lysa and Petyr didn't look like conspirators. They didn't look treacherous at all. No, in fact, they looked unbearably mortal, hunched against the wind and eyes of the hundreds of men that had gathered to oversee their execution.

Lord Royce had protested that they should be allowed the Moon Door, the oldest custom of the Vale, but Robb had merely shook his head, his face hard. "They've committed treason against the crown. They'll receive their punishment from my hands."

I hadn't fully understood until we had come out to this perch, and he had taken off his cloak, setting its heavy, bulky weight in my hands as I stared up at him in utter bewilderment. He had worn the strangest expression, his eyes cold and distant as he unclasped his sword from his belt and handed it to a craggy, bearded man who I remembered seeing through our journey. I hadn't known what to think, unsure if I should follow him down the steps as he turned his back on me in a way that felt final - as if I was the one being dismissed.

I had never seen the light so utterly guttered in his eyes, never seen his lips so hard, snow catching like drops of starlight in his hair and beard as he made his way to the clear slab of stone where a block was raised from the ground. Catelyn and Sansa had herded me into staying where I was, the cautiously alert presence of Theon just at our backs with a dozen other guards as well. He should have been shivering as Lysa and Petyr were, the leather of his outer jacket and breeches the only thing he had to stop the horrid wind as it swiped its hand along the courtyard.

Instead, he stared down at the bowed heads of both his aunt and Littlefinger with an unreadable expression, his back straight, shoulders back as if he was made of the very stone that we stood on. Behind him, the swipe of a wet stone against steel cut through the courtyard in harsh snaps, and I suddenly had the sinking impression that I had terribly underestimated this moment.

In my mind, there had always been the climax and the end - the happily ever after where things were wrapped up. The punishment was something that was carried out distantly - clean and concise. This was neither of those things.

As Lysa let out a warbling, sobbing scream, her thin body withering beneath the grasp of two guards, I suddenly realized how foolish I had been. Her cheek hit the raised block of stone with a crack that stunned her into silence for a moment.

"I don't-" I stopped talking as Catelyn grasped my arm, her nails sharp and brutal against my skin.

"Don't look away," she breathed, and I didn't entirely know if she needed to tell me. I was trapped, staring down as Lysa - that frail bird of a woman - pleaded, her eyes wide and searching as she thrashed against the hold of both men. "Whatever you do, do not look away, Willa."

And then my husband's blade was in his hands, his face a mask of indifference, all emotions safely tucked away as he stared coldly down at the screaming woman.

I had been so foolish.

Crack !

It took more than one swing. My husband's sword was still just a blade - not an axe, not something with enough force to severe cartilage and bone in one strike. I wanted to look away. I was ashamed to admit that I even felt a sweep of light-headedness, my vision blurring a bit as the gurgling cries of Lysa's dying screams filled the air.

Bile filled my throat as blood splattered up Robb's arm and dotted his face. I watched as he did his work efficiently, only pausing once as Lysa, bleeding, blood bubbling from her throat, withered away, and the guards had to drag her back.

"NEXT!" Robb roared, and I could hear the rage in his voice as he turned away, his eyes so cold, an unearthly emotion lighting them to near-white. His hand came up, wiping at his cheek and smearing blood along his skin and beard as he thrust the blade back at the bearded man from before who merely cleaned it, his wet stone back at work.

Robb Stark prowled, his eyes flashing and unholy silver as he glanced up at all of the men and women of the Vale who had come to see their Lady and her consort executed. I didn't entirely know what I saw in their faces. Definitely fear. But more than that… Understanding? As if his anger appeased some part of them as if it answered some silent question that they had posed.

Baelish didn't fight. He didn't speak or bargain or beg. But perhaps that was due to the fact that his tongue had been hacked out, and thrown to the floor in front of the blood-soaked pillar where his head would rest. His face was badly beaten, red and swollen where they had had to hold him down before. Tracks of dried blood crusted his lips and chin, staining his once elaborate coat, and I briefly wondered on what they had done to stop the bleeding and then gagged at the horrible images that my mind conjured.

All vindication seeped from me as I stared down at him, his tired, pale face shoved into the blood and gore left behind by the woman that he had been manipulating since they were children. He didn't look particularly impressed by the whole display, his eyes slipping to her lifeless body where it lay in a heap a few feet away. Somehow, I expected a bit more from him.

Perhaps if Catelyn were not with us, things would have been different. Perhaps he would have been able to use every tool her possessed. But every man has a weakness and standing beside me, her nails cutting through the top layer of my skin, Catelyn Stark was most certainly his.

I could see it in the way that he maneuvered his face a bit to the side, his eyes seeking hers out in one final solemn stare. I had never seen anyone look at another as he looked at her - as if he was reliving a million memories and wishing that every single one of them could be changed. Just slightly. Just enough for him to perhaps speak with her once more.

In the end, I wondered, briefly, if we went to the butcher's block laden with sins and pressed our cheeks to the stone in our purest form. I saw nothing of the man who had sold and bought women and men in the South then. I saw nothing of the man who had stood by while the Lannisters butchered half of Robb's family. No. Instead, I only saw the boy who had been bested at a tourny when he was very young and very dumb, looking up at the girl who he'd loved enough to get pushed into the dirt for.

His eyes stayed on her up until the point when Robb's sword finally swung down.

"Stay up," I whispered, not daring to tear my eyes away. Robb's blade stuck into the meaty skin at Baelish's neck. Somehow we had changed positions, my hands snapping out, nearly dropping Robb's cloak as I grasped her elbows. "Just a bit longer."

She leaned into me, her breath barely slipping from her, the weight of her body enough to make me sway. Sansa moved to her other side, wrapping a hand under her cloak and around her waist.

Baelish's death seemed to take twice as long, the blade duller after Lysa. Robb's breath blew out in thick, harsh waves, smoke signals in the frigid cold. For a moment, he didn't move from his position, his shoulders knotted into an unhappy line as he snarled down at the bloody mess at his feet. His brows were dark and heavy - clouds above the rolling sea of his eyes. He looked like he hated everything in that moment, his chest heaving, his gloved hand wrapped around the howling wolf carved into the hilt of his blade.

Slowly, his eyes slipped upward, running along the puddles of blood and gore and up the stairs until they finally clashed with mine. I had never been ignorant of the monsters that came of men who went to war. But standing there, trapped in the frigid depths of his eyes, I suddenly knew exactly what the armies of the Lannisters must have seen across the fields. There was such rage and hatred there that I could barely keep myself from stepping backward.

He broke away first, his teeth flashing in an expression of barely concealed irritation as he turned to hand his blade back over. He didn't wipe the blood from his face as he cirled back to the block of bloodstained stone. He looked like a king forged from that very rock, is eyes darkening to the shade of mountain stone as he let his gaze drift over all of the people who were crowding the courtyard.

The silence was thick and oppressive, cut through with the bitter breaths of the mountain's winds.

"I won't rehash the charges that were drawn against Lord Baelish and Lady Arryn. They were tried and found guilty of treason against the crown." His voice boomed through the yard, demanding acknowledgment. "These acts have been corroborated by not only evidence but also my wife's own brother, who is being held hostage at another of Baelish's allies. My aunt was taken in by this man's treachery and corrupted this place in the process. I know the Vale to be a place of honor and justice. I know it's people to be loyal and steadfast. I can only hope that the people here keep to the way of Jon Arryn and not the venality brought here by his wife."

It was a good play for the trust of the people of the Vale, straightforward. It was easy to blame an outside - someone like Littlefinger who had come at a convenient time to the North. It was even easier to blame the woman who had allowed him here so soon after her own husband's death. By raising them up above the people they had followed, he allowed them an exit for all sympathy. It was easier to inspire contempt than love, and even though it might not work on all, it would certainly work on most.

"We must-" Catelyn's words rasped from her, sounding far more like the crunch of dry leaves than her usual smooth cadence. I glanced over, not missing the gray tint to her face. "You must get ready for your journey. Come."

"The king-" I hesitated, glancing down to where his advisors had clustered around him along with a few others from the Vale.

She didn't stop, sweeping past our guards to the hall. "He'll be bogged down with well-wishes and groveling. You'll need to take care of the remaining preparations." Her eyes flicked to me. "Judging by the look of things, you have only an hour or so to get everything sorted."

Catelyn was right, of course. The horses needed to be packed and taken care of, the supplies rechecked and the men notified and coddled enough to be ready. It was a busy, thankless hour.

By the time I was thrust upon my horse, my head was fogged over, my body aching to go to sleep. It would be an absolutely miserable ride to the Bolton's.