"My mother is from a place similar," Sansa starts with bright-eyed joy, remembering the lively terrain of the Trident and the lands of her Tully kin. The Riverlands live up to its name; channels upon channels of water weaving into each other, and pools that overflow at the hint of slight rain, and the swell of the sea even further west, the one time her uncle had taken her and Robb to see it.

But then — When it is not being overrun by those who wish to rule it. Sansa's expression dims a little. Perhaps kings and queens are the same, everywhere.

"Have you no kings ? No armies who fight for your people?" The North has — had — loyal men, but the War of The Five Kings had weakened alliances throughout; Westeros is in disarray. "Or... is there a contest for who must rule over the realm?"