Warm hugs, room, food, love

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Lady Alys kept her hand on Tim’s shoulder and led him out of the cellar. Tim walked beside her, but his short stature meant he had to take twice as many steps to keep up. Even so, Lady Alys had slowed her pace, as if she knew he was exhausted and hungry.

They crossed the busy courtyard filled with soldiers and activity. Some of the men stared in surprise at the sight of Lady Karstark escorting a short, skinny boy under her arm, but no one dared ask questions.

The sword that had been strapped to Tim’s waist only minutes earlier—and had felt unbearably heavy to him—was now in Lady Alys’s hands. For a Karstark lady, its weight was nothing.

Lady Alys brought him to her private tower. It was a large chamber with blazing fireplaces, warm carpets, and thick curtains that muffled the sounds of war and preparation outside. Tim stopped and stared around him. He had never seen a place so warm and comfortable.

Alys leaned the sword against the wall and motioned for Tim to sit behind the table.

“Sit down, dear.”

Tim sat on the wooden chair, folded his hands in his lap, and watched silently as Lady Alys took a bowl of hot stew and fresh bread from beside the hearth and set it in front of him.

“Eat. Slowly. No need to rush—we have plenty.”

Tim looked away from the food and into Alys’s eyes. A woman who had been a stranger only moments ago now seemed like a refuge. He picked up the spoon and took a sip. The warmth of the meal spread through his entire body.

Alys pulled a chair beside him and sat down. She reached up and brushed his tangled hair away from the back of his neck, gentle but firm.

“When was the last time someone combed your hair, boy?”

Tim gave a bitter smile.

“Never.”

Alys drew a deep breath. She took his chin in her hand and turned his face toward her, studying his eyes carefully.

“Eighteen years old... the body of a child, the eyes of an old man. How much have you suffered?”

Tim said nothing. He simply dipped the spoon back into the stew.

Alys waited until he had finished eating. Then, without asking any questions, she removed the bowl and set it aside. She returned and stood in front of him, her tall figure casting a shadow over him.

“Now then, my little boy, let’s see what else you can do.”

She reached for the sword and lifted it from the wall. With the practiced ease of someone who had spent years around weapons, she held it before his eyes.

“You brought this sword to serve me, didn’t you?”

Tim nodded.

“Yes, my lady.”

Alys smiled—a smile that was warm, yet seemed to hide something beneath it. She set the sword on the floor and then knelt so that her eyes were level with his. Resting a hand on his knee, she spoke softly.

“Then listen to me. As long as you’re here, you answer to me. Not because you’re weak, but because I want to protect you. I’ll feed you, I’ll decide where you stay, and if you make mistakes, I’ll be the one to discipline you. Agreed?”

Tim’s heart pounded. Not from fear. From something he had never felt before. For the first time in his life, a powerful woman was claiming him as her own.

“Yes, my lady...” he whispered. “I want to obey.”

Alys raised her hand and gave his thigh a light but firm slap.

“That’s my good boy. Now get up. I want to see how you handle a sword. I’ll take you downstairs so you can start training... and if you do well, tonight you can sleep beside my fireplace instead of in the stables. Understood?”

Tim nodded, his eyes glistening with emotion.

Alys rose to her feet and extended a hand to help him up. Then she leaned close and whispered in his ear:

“From today on, you’re my boy. And I’ll deal with anyone who tries to hurt you. Even if that person is you.”

And in that moment, for the first time in his life, Tim did not feel like a wanderer.

He felt like a son who had finally found a mother.