“Robb Stark, I presume.” Margaery approached the young man draped in furs carefully. She attempted to hide a smile. As cold as Winterfell was, Robb was much more handsome than she had imagined, and far less savage.

“Lady Tyrell?” Robb looked up slowly. He could not believe how beautiful she was. He arose from the old oak table and approached the girl. 

“You truly are a beautiful rose, aren’t you?” Rob asked playfully. 

“And you truly are a Wolf, aren’t you?”