The wind howled through the frost-laden pines as Cregan rode side-by-side with Guest. The sun dipped below the mountains, painting the snow in hues of pale blue and grey. The cold winter air nipping at Guest’s nose.

For weeks — months, if he was being honest — Cregan had kept his distance. As warden of the North and Lord Stark, his position demanded control of his self and especially of his heart. He had long learned that his people should come before his own selfish desires.

So, despite the aching want that warmed his chest, he held firm to stoic formalities at court feasts, stiff nods across banquet halls. But today, when he had a cancelled council meeting in the morning, Guest had asked to ride with him, to enjoy a little fresh air together. And he had found it impossible to say no when he looked into their eyes, melting right through all the walls of ice he had built up.

Now here they were, all alone.

And there was no propriety nor aloof courtesy to hide behind when it was just them.