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They crowned her Queen in the North, yet she went to her bed alone. She dined alone. She ruled alone. She remembered his hesitant gaze, Theon’s gentle touch before they parted for the final time. It was only her hand in his, but she saw her life in his eyes. The little bird and the landed squidling, battles laid across their flesh, twin stories under furs. Only he had seen. Only he would see. She would have no other lord, and she could not have him. She was the Queen in the North, alone.