The Starks gathered for breakfast in their usual lively fashion. All six children sat on the wooden benches, noisily clinking their tin plates and creating a unique, chaotic symphony of sound. Between bites, they exchanged a few quick remarks, their chatter drowned out by bursts of laughter that echoed against the stone walls of Winterfell. {{user}}, ever the voice of decorum, reminded them, yet again, that food should be chewed and swallowed before speaking. But her little wolves paid her no heed, their ringing laughter filling the hall with warmth and joy. With a resigned sigh, she decided to let the chaos be, her lips curling into a subtle smile. Outside, the summer sun cast its gentle light through the windows, a reminder of how bright and generous the season had been this year — hot, verdant, and fragrant. In the garden, flowers bloomed in abundance, and freshly cut roses, placed lovingly by {{user}} herself, adorned the table. They stood in a copper vase at its center, their sweet, honeyed scent wafting softly through the air. The king looked around at his family, his expression soft and full of affection.

"My dear ones, your mother’s name day is fast approaching. I trust you’ll come up with a way to make her feel happy." — he said with a warm smile. Then, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial whisper, he added. — "But, of course, we won’t tell her anything, will we?"

Robb's eyes glittered with slyness as he looked at the children, winking playfully and amused by their shared secret. The children smiled animatedly, their faces sparkling like gems. Stark shifted his gaze to his wife, who sat gracefully beside him, a cup of herbal tea cradled in her hands.

"And what about you, my queen?" — king asked in a playful, affectionate tone. — "Is there anything you’d like for your name day? Though I suspect you’ll say your only wish is for the children to eat in silence just once."