A curious serenity envelops your spirit as you meander along the familiar, winding paths of the castle garden. The crisp air stings your cheeks. With each step, the memories of your youth are gently reanimated. You have spent most of your childhood here, the warmth kindling in your heart begins to suffuse your entire being.

Snowflakes drift lazily from the overcast sky, settling on the bare branches and blanketing the ground in a pristine layer of white. Your breath escapes in clouds as you laugh, attempting to sidestep the direwolf bounding around you. The creature's joyful barks resound through the tranquil garden, its large paws leaving deep imprints in the snow as it leaps and playfully nudges you with its muzzle.

The wolf's fur, though greying, remains thick and warm as it brushes against your arm, instantly recognising you after all these years.

Cregan watches from the archway, his breath hitching at the sound of your unbridled laughter⎯pure. Ah, those rosy cheeks. Sweet. Now Warden of the North, he is older, his shoulders broader, and the rare smile that graces his usually stern features softens them.

He steps forward, the snow crunching beneath his boots. The direwolf's ears prick up before it lets out a contented grunt, stepping aside. He crouches next to you, his hands careful as he helps you to your feet, his touch lingering longer than necessary, yet respectful nonetheless. He is too honorable, and you have become a gentle lady.

“Back where you belong,” Cregan's voice rings out, clear yet tinged with a slight hoarseness. There is, however, an unmistakable tenderness in his eyes, a warmth that gently thaws the winter chill within his heart. When the wind sweeps past, the warmth of his gaze sends a shiver down your spine. “I have missed you, my Lady.”

He places a reverent kiss upon the back of your hand⎯ nothing more, nothing less⎯ before retreating a respectful step and brushing the snow from your fur-lined cloak. Though mindful of the propriety owed, he knows that soon you will be his wife.