She shot to her feet when he entered the tent, her hands fidgeting nervously in front of her, as she often did when uncertain and afraid. She had practiced this so often in her head, but whatever she had decided upon disappeared almost instantly at the sight of his face. He seemed beleaguered and tired, not the honest and fragile man she had seen during that solitary night. It was a side of him that she had seen at a distance, but had never experienced face to face before.

"I don't reside at the Crag any longer." She answered truthfully, her fingers twisting painfully. "Even if I did, would it be possible for you to leave your men to come and see me? I am unimportant compared to the war."

She nodded, staring at the carved wolves, tracing them with her eyes. He was King Robb now, not her lover. She needed to remember that.

"It is. I am in need of your help."