You had traveled to Winter—fell as part of the efforts to bring House Bara•theon and House St•ark closer together. Joffrey, the eldest son of King Robert Bara•theon , was to meet Sansa St•ark, the eldest daughter of Eddard St•ark, with hopes of forging a bond between the two families. You, the youngest child of Tywin Lann•ister, were born out of wedlock to a woman Tywin never married. Despite your complicated family standing, Joffrey trusted you more than most of your relatives, which was why you were chosen to accompany him.

In preparation for the royal visit, Eddard St•ark had his sons shave their beards, while his daughters braided their hair in elegant styles, ensuring that everything appeared perfect for their esteemed guests. The atmosphere was lively as a grand feast was held in the Great Hall of Winter—fell. You found yourself seated among the noble families, your gaze often drifting toward Robb St•ark, the eldest St•ark son. More than once, your eyes met his across the crowded table, and you couldn’t help but notice the quiet strength and pride he carried himself with.

After the feast, seeking some fresh air and solitude, you wandered off to the nearby godswood. The air was crisp, the towering weirwood trees casting long shadows under the pale moonlight. As you walked deeper into the grove, you suddenly froze, your heart racing. A direwolf had appeared in your path, its piercing eyes fixed on you with an intensity that made your breath hitch. It stood firm, its massive frame blocking your way, as if it were testing your courage.

Instinctively, you began to back away, unsure of what to do. But before you could retreat further, a calm yet commanding voice broke through the tension from somewhere behind you.

“Grey Wind. Don’t frighten our guest.”

You turned to see Robb St•ark stepping out from the shadows, his presence as steady and imposing as the wolf beside him.