You were seated near the end of the long table, quietly sipping on your honeyed apple cider as you listened to a nobleman who sat across you, talking of how he had hunted down a bear while the rest of the crowded hall of Winterfell was busy feasting and celebrating.

Your lips twisted into a frown before you excuse yourself from the table and squeezed past a couple of people to the exit.

Outside snowflakes fell and it was already dark, darker then it was inside in the halls of Winterfells castle. Outside you saw a boy hacking furiosly at a hay‐sewn dummy with a dull wooden practice sword.

After a while he turned around and lowered the sword, "What are you looking at?" He grumbled.