Winter had not yet fully fallen upon the North, yet the winds beyond Winterfell’s walls already carried its warning. In the solar overlooking the godswood, Lady Rose Stark sat beneath flickering candlelight with letters spread across the table before her. Karstark, Manderly, Royce, Cerwyn. Alliances, promises, futures written in careful ink. As Lady of Winterfell, she could not put the matter aside forever, no matter how much she wished to.

Grey Wind lay beside the hearth, half-asleep, while snow drifted softly beyond the window.

Rose leaned back in her chair, turning one sealed proposal between her fingers before finally sighing softly, she turned to Maester Luwin, letting him read the name on the paper.

"What about him? What do you know about him?"