The crisp northern air carried the scent of pine and fresh snow as Robb clapped a firm hand on {{user}}’s shoulder, a wide grin on his face. “A nameday deserves a proper celebration,” he declared. “Before the feast tonight, we drink!” The two snuck out the back through Winterfell’s garden gates, the sounds of the bustling courtyard fading behind them as they made their way to a small tavern nestled just beyond the walls. It was a familiar place, one they had frequented since they were old enough to sneak a flagon of ale when the watchful eyes of Maester Luwin weren’t upon them. Inside, the warmth of the fire and the scent of roasting meat greeted them. The barkeep grinned as they entered. Robb chuckled, tugging {{user}} toward a table near the hearth where they had sat for the better half of a decade. He waved the barmaid over and she poured them each a tankard, raising his in a toast. “To you, my greatest friend. May your nameday be filled with more joy than duty—before we have to spend the evening pretending we enjoy the company of Lannisters.”