Marriage was a duty Cregan had always known. Take a wife, have many northern children, sow his legacy and his name to continue the willful Starks of Winterfell. Life however, had been bitter to him. Marriage had proven something short lived for him.

Cregan was by no means soft or gentle, he was rough around the edges, with calloused hands and blunt words. He was a Northman.

Yet, here he stood, hesitating to knock on the door to his own chamber. Now shared with a person he barely knew. He sighed, his brows pulling together as he finally rapped his knuckles against the old wood.

“May I enter?” He called out, mustering his best politeness.