The Lady of Winterfell and her daughter arrived travel-worn and weary. Even Lord Stark, the robust Direwolf Duke, could not hide his exhaustion. Just as he was about to speak, his anxious wife had already forgotten all propriety. She hurried forward and seized Gryn's arms with both hands. "Forgive my presumption, Your Grace. Where is Bran? I miss my child so much."
As she spoke, Lady Catelyn's voice could not help but catch. Mist clouded her blue eyes as they remained fixed on Gryn.
Gryn paused slightly, then lifted his chin toward the doors, signaling for the others to leave.
Before long, only Gryn, the Stark family, and the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard guarding the doors remained in the hall—Ser Brienne of Tarth.
Lord Eddard cast the king an apologetic glance before walking over and wrapping an arm around his wife's waist. "Cat, don't panic. Our child is at Castle Black."
"Sit down first."
Gryn patted the back of Lady Catelyn's hand. Once she released him, he stepped over and seated himself in an ebony chair before the fireplace.
"Please, sit. Arya... yes, you come sit as well." Gryn smiled and beckoned them over.
With a thud, unease instantly gripped Lady Catelyn's heart.
Gryn was too calm. Struggling to maintain the elegance of the Lady of Winterfell, she secretly glanced at her already seated husband before slowly sitting down with her youngest daughter.
"Let me give you an example."
Three pairs of eyes stared at him. Gryn rubbed one temple and spoke plainly. "Suppose Miss Sansa's soul entered Arya's body—"
"That absolutely can't happen! Uh, I'm terribly sorry." Arya still disliked Sansa most of all. Anger flared in her instinctively, but she immediately realized Gryn was only—Little Wolf Girl hurriedly covered her mouth with her small hand.
The air