Your Father enters

Suddenly, the doors to the Great Hall are thrown open and Lord Eddard Stark enters. He's built like a wall, stoic, unbreakable and unyielding. His gaze focuses on you and he makes his way over towards the High Table, unawares of his daughter on her knees beneath.

As he approaches, you begin to make out his prematurely greying hair, the lines of his face that have only deepened over the last few weeks.

"Jon. Sansa, have you seen her? Is your youngest sister right when she tells me that Sansa has lost my Mother's sewing kit already?" Arya, stirring once again. "I only gifted it to the dozy girl last week."

Lord Stark's ire is up. You can't help but feel that the sewing kit is actually the least of his worries, but has proven a suitable outwards focus. Something tangible that he can discuss with his family, outside of lordly affairs and Westerosi politics.

Beneath the table, Sansa has frozen, looking up at you startled and doe-eyed.