Sitting quietly on the clean bed, This had slowly grown bored of waiting for Septa.
It had been told to wait; however, the long wait had begun to make its body itch.
After Septa left, it hadn't taken long for the man to finish with its wound entirely. He had given This a small cup of an unknown liquid, which This refused to drink for fear it was medicine.
Thankfully, the man was very different from Mother or Septa and hadn't forced it to.
Holding the small thing in its arms, This ran its hands along its soft body, allowing the feeling to ease the boredom.
Looking toward the man who had helped it, This watched as he sat comfortably, reading a large book.
This could not tell what the book was, nor what it was about, but its large size had caught its attention.
Standing up from the bed, This walked over to the man and spoke.
It was becoming more comfortable with doing so.
"What is the book?" This asked from behind him.
The man flinched slightly and turned his head before a short smile appeared on his face.
"Ahh, m'lady, it's nothing really, just an old book on human anatomy," the man responded, his gaze shifting from the book to This.
"Boring stuff, really. I'm not sure it'd be to your taste." Hearing his words, This felt it still didn't understand what the book was.
The word anatomy was entirely unfamiliar.
Perhaps seeing This's confusion, the man closed the book slowly, but not fully.
He studied This for a moment longer than necessary.
Not in the way Septa did.
Nor in the way the maids did.
This felt only a quiet attention in his gaze.
"Anatomy," he repeated lightly, as though he could tell This didn't understand the word.
"It is the study of how the body is made. Bones. Muscles. Organs. How everything is arranged inside a person."
This processed the explanation.
Bones. Muscles. Inside.
It looked down at its own hands for a moment.
"I see," This said.
A pause followed.
The man's eyes shifted slightly, narrowing just enough to suggest a curiosity that had not been there before.
"You say things strangely," he said. "Not wrong. Just… arranged differently."
This tilted its head.
"Is that bad?"
A short breath of amusement left him.
"No. Not necessarily."
Silence returned.
With that, the man went back to reading his book, and the room fell into a stable hush. This found the atmosphere more comfortable than the rest of the castle.
Similar to when it was alone in the cold, only the quiet sound of pages occasionally turning remained.
This returned to the bed for a moment, sitting again, but could not fully settle.
This hesitated over whether to enter its Mindscape, but due to its body's tired state, This feared falling asleep and not being able to wake. It decided to sit in silence instead.
After a few intensely boring seconds, This spoke again.
"You are not like Septa."
The man raised an eyebrow and looked at This.
"That sounds like a compliment."
This considered it.
"I do not know."
That answer seemed to amuse him more than the first.
He closed the book properly this time and leaned back slightly in his chair, facing This fully.
"I'm not here to correct you," he said. "Or judge you. I'm here to fix you if something breaks. That's all."
This processed the sentence and responded almost immediately.
"I was not broken," This said.
A pause.
Then, more carefully:
"I think."
The man did not respond immediately.
Instead, he looked at This for a longer moment, his expression flattening slightly as something in his eyes shifted.
"Most people who come through here say that," he said at last. "The ones who are actually fine don't usually end up on my table."
This did not understand the implication.
But it understood the word table.
Its gaze moved briefly to the wooden surface beside him.
"I am not on the table," This said.
A quiet chuckle escaped him.
"Not yet."
His words carried something hidden within them, yet even though This had begun to understand more of how humans felt, it could not interpret it.
This paused for a moment, only staring at the human, still trying to understand what the hidden feeling was.
With no success, This stood again, moved a step closer to the table, then stopped.
"Can I read the book?" This asked.
The man blinked once.
Then, slowly, he slid the book closer to the edge of the table.
"You can try," he said. "But you might not like it."
This reached for it.
The pages were heavier than expected. The moment it opened the book, unfamiliar images filled its vision. Drawings of humans, but without skin, with writing marked in multiple places that This could not understand.
Bones.
Organs.
Systems.
Something inside This paused for a fraction of a moment longer than usual.
Not because it did not understand the images.
It did.
The idea of something hidden beneath the skin was no longer unfamiliar after the explanation. It had simply never been seen in this form before.
What caused the pause was different.
The drawings did not feel like descriptions.
They felt like seeing without permission.
This turned a page.
Another body. Another arrangement. Clean lines. Precise labels. A system broken into parts so it could be understood.
The more it looked, the more its attention sharpened.
It was not curiosity, as it had felt about words or humans.
It was closer to pressure.
A need to continue.
This did not notice as it leaned slightly closer to the book.
Nor as the man observed everything in silence.
This flipped another page.
Then another.
Each page made the idea of "inside" clearer.
A small realization formed in This's mind.
Humans are not what they look like.
This stopped for a moment.
The thought should have been strange.
Instead, it felt… useful.
Its fingers tightened slightly on the edge of the pages.
Before letting go, it looked down at its own hands, briefly comparing what it saw to the drawings.
The man finally spoke, breaking the quiet.
"You're reading it well."
This paused.
"Yes," it said.
This agreed; unlike the other books it had tried reading, this one was full of images and easier for This to understand.
The man let out a small breath through his nose, almost amused again.
"I didn't think you'd find something like this so interesting."
This did not respond immediately.
It turned another page instead.
On this one, the diagram showed the head.
The "brain," along with something called nerves.
The word "thoughts" also appeared beside an image of what This assumed to be a brain.
This stared at it longer than the others.
Then it asked, without looking away.
"Thinking is inside?"
"Yes," the man said.
This considered his answer.
The body was not just movement. Not just the voice, but thought as well.
This thought made sense; it explained why This sometimes could not leave the Mindscape: it could not control the body.
This flipped the page again.
The room remained quiet, but no longer empty.
Each image and word was added to the large mass within This's Mindscape. Whether it could understand it now or not wasn't important. This only intended to keep stacking its understanding.
After a while, the man leaned forward slightly.
"You're not reacting like most children would," he said.
This paused mid-page.
Then answered honestly.
"I do not know how they react."
This noticed the man's abrupt silence, along with the sharpening of his gaze.
"Is that so?"
This wondered briefly whether it had said something wrong, but continued reading.
But slowly, the pages no longer held images.
They turned into the familiar long text it had seen in many other books.
Realizing it would take a long time to read and memorize everything, This asked the man a question.
"Can I read this book?"
The man had barely begun to look away from This before it spoke again.
He raised his hand and scratched the back of his neck.
"Of course you can read it. These books were provided to me by your family," he said.
"However, I don't expect I'll have time to explain everything you don't understand."
This processed his words.
"Yes," This replied.
The man gave a short nod.
"Well, feel free to read to your heart's content."
With those words, This returned to the book, allowing silence to settle in again.
The book was quite large, but remembering Septa's words to "stay here," This felt it was a good time to read as much of it as possible.
Page after page.
Image after image.
This did not notice when the light outside slowly shifted into a darkness it was very familiar with.
Nor when quiet footsteps passed beyond the door once or twice.
Time lost definition.
This was only focused on the book.
At some point, the creak of the door opening entered its ears.
Looking up, This saw Septa Mordane entering with a slightly tired gait.
Seeing its gaze, she spoke.
"Enough."
The word cut through the quiet cleanly.
This paused mid-page.
The book remained open in its hands.
Then it looked up.
Septa's expression held exhaustion, but no longer held her earlier anger and heat.
"You've been here long enough," she said in a controlled tone.
"It is time to eat dinner."
This blinked once.
Dinner… It had been so entranced by the book that it had almost entirely forgotten it had to eat with Sansa's family.
This looked back down at the book. About half of the pages remained unturned beneath its fingers.
Septa's voice followed again.
"It's best we leave now. Lord Stark says he has an announcement to make."
Not thinking too deeply about the meaning of the word "announcement," This stood from the bed, walked over to the seated man, and placed the book on his table.
Then it spoke.
"…I was reading," it said.
As This spoke, it felt some of the tightness within Septa loosen. She released a light breath and responded.
"You can read later."
A pause.
This considered it.
Then agreed. It could read later.
"Later," it repeated.
And followed Septa from the room without complaint.
The moment it stepped into the corridor, the warmth and the scent of that man's room quickly began to fade.
Walking through the halls, This noticed the castle was quieter than usual.
Perhaps because it was now what humans called the hour of the bat.
Further from the room, a fragrant smell began to drift into This's nose.
This recognized it instantly.
Food…
Its body seemed to recognize it as well.
The strange hollow sensation within its "stomach" grew slightly stronger.
For a brief moment, This felt glad it had read that book, now knowing what a stomach was.
Septa glanced back once.
"Keep up."
This nodded, then did its best to stay by Septa's side.
The walk was spent mostly in silence.
This had attempted to practice words as usual, especially new ones like stomach, heart and bones.
But receiving an odd glance from Septa, it decided to wait.
Eventually, they reached the dining hall.
Before even entering, This could already hear voices from within.
Familiar ones.
As Septa pushed open the doors, warmth, light, and an amazing smell spilled outward.
The long table was almost fully occupied.
This recognized them all.
Father sat at the head of the table.
Mother sat beside him.
Then, along the sides, Robb, Arya, Bran, Rickon and even Jon.
As This entered, many eyes turned toward the entrance.
Toward This.
The high mood within the room seemed to dim slightly. Not entirely, but for This, it was noticeable.
With Septa by its side, This walked forward regardless.
The empty seat waiting for Sansa was easy to identify from memory.
Without hesitation, This moved toward it.
As it sat down, Rickon immediately leaned forward in his chair.
"Sansa!"
The small human's face brightened.
"Did they cut you open?"
The hall became noticeably quieter.
This didn't answer for a moment, watching how the people around it reacted to the small human's words.
Across the table, Arya immediately burst into laughter.
Jon lowered his head, and Robb began slowly indulging in the contents of his cup.
Mother seemed displeased, pinching the bridge of her nose and exhaling lightly.
"Rickon," she said.
The boy shrank slightly.
"What?"
This considered the question seriously.
Then answered.
"No."
A pause.
"It was only a small wound."
Rickon seemed disappointed by the answer.
"Oh."
Beside him, Bran looked curious.
"What happened?"
Before This could answer, Father spoke.
"That discussion can wait until after dinner."
His voice wasn't loud, but everyone heard it.
With that, the table settled almost immediately.
Father lifted his hands and brought them together twice, making a crisp sound. At the sound, servants entered from multiple doors, holding trays of food.
This's attention shifted away from the conversation entirely.
And toward the food.
There was a large amount of it. Trays filled with meat, bread, soup, vegetables and other things This hadn't seen until now.
It was far more than it believed it could eat.
As the trays were placed gently on the table, a familiar feeling rose within it.
Anticipation.
Once all the food was settled on the table, the servants left, quietly bowing their heads.
This waited for Father to speak, as he usually did.
However, seeing he had no intention to, This reached forward, grabbed a large piece of meat along with a piece of bread, and began to eat.
This felt a familiar displeasure from its side when it began eating with its hands, but nothing was said. Soon enough, everyone else began to eat as well.
Glancing up briefly, This noticed that Father remained quiet, his plate empty.
He seemed to be waiting.
Giving the matter brief thought, This concluded that humans remained difficult to understand.
Then it returned to eating.
After several minutes had passed, as This felt its stomach beginning to fill, it heard the clear sound of someone putting down their cup.
It wasn't loud.
Yet it immediately drew This's attention.
And seemingly everyone else's, as all conversation slowed.
Then stopped.
Father looked around the table.
His expression was calm.
"I have something important to tell all of you."