Arya's small figure darted out from behind. But her eager footsteps came to an abrupt halt as she seemed to finally notice the solemn people of Winterfell, as well as the glance Lady Catelyn cast her way.
The Little Wolf Girl instantly understood her mother's look.
In an instant, she turned into a little lady, obediently walked over, and knelt beside Rickon.
Gryn swung down from his horse at that moment. After a brief pause, he called out, "Everyone, rise."
The crowd slowly rose. Gryn stepped over to Lady Catelyn, his gentle gaze sweeping over her and her children.
Then, he opened his arms of his own accord. "Lady Stark, let us tell this land with the warmest embrace just how delighted the king and queen are by The North's return to the Seven Kingdoms."
It was not only because of Gryn's distinctly First Men features. His regal bearing was also deeply admired by these descendants of the First Men, and the crowd could not help but cheer.
As the weight in her heart lifted, Lady Catelyn revealed a proper yet gentle smile.
"Your Grace, The North will forever be your most loyal shield."
Gryn and Catelyn exchanged a deep embrace, prompting another burst of cheers from those around them.
Once they had separated, Lady Catelyn introduced her children to the king according to custom.
The first was naturally her eldest daughter—Sansa Stark.
"Good day, Your Grace Gryn." She gave Gryn an impeccably proper curtsy.
With a slight nod, Gryn looked at the young girl before him, who was gradually shedding her childishness, and smiled. "Sansa, it has been a long time. You have become even more charming. Time truly favors beauty."
Unlike Arya, who had barely grown taller, Sansa had nearly caught up to Lady Catelyn in height. Mother