Yes. Shardbearers. But that distinction became a key element of the gesture itself -- a way to knit those same people to her cause in a more...permanent capacity. Sansa curled her fingers over the caps of her knees, twisting her hands in pale silk. He hated the games; she knew it. So how could she explain it to him?

And yet! Doing it without his knowledge would only push him away. Being honest with him -- telling him things -- had become a vital strategy to maintaining his proximity to her causes.

"It's a trinket, really. An easy title to give once it's been decided. But the bearer of it would be welcomed with all of the Cothromach's hospitality whenever he stepped behind our walls." She paused, and then sheepishly added: "Or she."