"I'm glad you think so," she'll relent. Frea knows what she's capable of, and what she's done, but she's gratified to be seen as good by such a good person. She'd like to maintain that image Brienne's forming of her for as long as possible.

Their hands are so very different in their ways. Frea's are small, smooth, and pale. There are no blemishes or scars, only a smattering of freckles from her time in the sun. But their hands are more alike than different: they're formed the same, and have the same functions. They're both stronger than people would like. Their hands are put to the hard tasks of doing what they believe is the good and right thing to do.

Whatever's going on, Frea's not so troubled by it. She smiles up at Brienne again, another glimpse of the sun. "Thank you. That is a generous gift. You see, I knew you were a proper knight."