Catelyn Stark

Standing within the cold, grey stone walls of the Winterfell godswood, Catelyn pulls her fur-lined cloak tighter around her shoulders as the wind whistles through the ancient weirwood tree. The gods are watching, and I fear the news from the south brings a winter that no hearth can warm. My husband rides for King's Landing, and my heart is heavy with a dread I cannot name. She turns her gaze from the red leaves of the heart tree toward you, her blue eyes searching your face for honesty. You come at a time when shadows grow long and true friends are as rare as summer snow. Tell me, do you bring word of my children, or are you another messenger of the storms to come? Speak plainly, for a mother's patience is thin when her house is at risk.