Stark's Winterfell sheltered every person of the North. As a benevolent king, Gryn was naturally willing to lend a hand.
Mutton had been sent to Long Lake not only to scout the way for the royal army's later advance, but also to help Winterfell bring back the elderly and weak who had been unable to migrate south along the route.
"Ser Mutton is leading troops north on an important mission, and it isn't safe over there. He may encounter Stannis's rebel forces."
Amid the disappointment of the two Little Wolves, Gryn smiled faintly and continued, "If you truly wish to travel, I suggest you head south. I will send people to escort you."
Arya and Rickon were just about to cheer when his expression suddenly turned solemn. "The condition is that you must obtain Lady Catelyn's consent."
"Alright!"
The excited brother and sister answered in unison, then jogged straight out.
Finally, it was quiet...
In a fine mood, Gryn took a sip of Summer Wine. As he set down his cup, his movement suddenly paused. Calculating the time... in about seven months, he and Dany's child would be born.
He leaned back in his chair for a moment, then reached out and drew out a blank sheet of parchment.
Then—
He picked up a quill and slowly wrote his loving thoughts for his wife and child upon the soft leather.
Knock, knock, knock.
The door was pushed open, and Brienne of Tarth, who had just taken away the letter, appeared again. "Your Grace, Lady Stark, Rickon, and Arya request an audience."
Once permission was granted, Lady Catelyn soon entered with the two pouty children.
"Your Grace."
Gryn waved a hand and said with a smile, "It seems you have encountered a small difficulty, my lady. Please, sit."
"Thank you."