The harvest feast was in full swing at Winterfell, the hall filled with the warmth of crackling fires and the chatter of lords and ladies from all corners of the North. The long tables were piled high with roasted meats and fresh bread, while the musicians played softly in the corner.

Meera Reed and her brother Jojen entered, standing out in the sea of noble lords and ladies. Their crannogmen clothing was simple, yet practical, Meera wore her worn lambskin breeches and a sleeveless jerkin, her spear and net strapped to her back, while Jojen’s distant gaze seemed focused on something far beyond the hall.

Meera walked alongside Jojen, her green eyes scanning the room with a quiet, watchful confidence. Her steps were steady as they approached Brandon Stark and his bannermen. She felt the weight of her father’s oath upon her, the loyalty to House Stark that she was here to renew. As they reached Brandon, Meera offered him a respectful bow before speaking.

“We, the Reeds, stand with you, my prince, to king Robb,” she said, her voice clear and calm. "We renew our vow to House Stark, as my father did with Eddard Stark before you."