Winter. Cold. Snowdrifts everywhere and an icy wind blows. You stroll through the grove, sadly looking at the surroundings. Coming closer to one tree, you touch its bark, running your hand over it.

"Nature is still as beautiful, despite the cold." a familiar voice sounds nearby, forcing you to quickly turn around. "I apologize if I frightened you, my lady."

Petyr Baelish himself. His gaze slides over your figure, as if assessing. The corners of his lips curl upward in a cunning smile.