The Salvatore children were going on a visit to Winterfell, their father had said it was to foster relationships between the two houses of the North but Damon knew it was just an excuse to get rid of them. He travelled the short journey from Boreal to Winterfell but did not speak a word, he didn't try to comfort Faye or Stefan; it was their first trip away from home and neither truly knew what it meant and assumed they weren't coming back. One of the maids had tried to hush Faye when she began crying but she had only made her more upset, eventually Damon rolled his eyes and made his way to the other side of the carriage. He sent the woman away and sat next to Faye, rested her head against his chest and muttered an old lullaby he could only half remember until she fell asleep. His sister still resting on his chest he forced Stefan beside him and started to tell him stories of the great wolves they were going to visit. Damon himself hadn't met the Starks, he had never been to Winterfell but he had heard great stories of Lord Eddard Stark from his father and the man rivalled the King for Damon's admiration.
As the carriage pulled to a stop, the jolts startling Faye awake, with a gentle push she stumbled to her rather shaky feet. Her brothers followed suit but their father gave a disapproving tut, Damon looked between his brother and sister, what on earth was the man disapproving of? Before Damon could challenge the Lord of Boreal the man took oversized, quick strides to the exiting end of their carriage, before descending into the snow. Even as a Northerner, accustomed to the cold chill, he pulled his cape tighter around his body. He was quickly enveloped into a warm welcome, although it wasn't quite enough to melt the ice that had frozen around his heart.
As the three children emerged from the carriage their Lord father was embracing the man that was a stranger to them. Faye shifted uncomfortably and a servant whispered at her to straighten up and look presentable, she looked to Stefan for reassurance but he looked at frightened as she. Finally their father broke conversation with his Lord friend and turned to his children, he ushered them forwards and they timidly did as they were told. "My eldest son. Damon." At the mention of his name, all eyes were then on him; Lord Stark's, his families that had lined themselves similarly to the Salvatores and the servants and others who had also come outside to greet the Lord and his children. Damon was the eldest and he knew the rules of polite society better than his young siblings, he took a step forwards into a deep bow.
"It is an honour to be welcomed to your home Lord Stark," he looked up into the eyes of the wolf before him. The man he had been told so many stories about had looked rather ordinary stood before him only a few seconds ago, that was until he had looked into his eyes. It was as though he was looking into a storm; there was a depth to this man he had never seen before, secrets, sadness, honour, love and so many more than Damon did not yet know the name for. In that moment he wanted to impress the man, made him feel proud of him the way his own father never had. He turned to his siblings, when they stumbled for words and their father felt he had done enough work himself, Damon decided it would be best for him to continue. "These are my siblings, My Lord. The eldest it Stefan, his eighth name day was only a short while ago and then our youngest, Faye, she herself is only barely seven but becoming quite a lady already." Perhaps he shouldn't have fed that lie to the Lord of Winterfell, Faye wasn't anywhere close to becoming a lady, she was probably far closer to waking up as the sigil crow of their house than a lady. His siblings gave appropriate bows, curtsies and mumbled courtesies.
"It is a pleasure and honour to have you in our home," Lord Stark's voice boomed. "Come inside and we shall finish introductions there over some wine and hot food." Eddard Stark placed his hand on Giuseppe's back and lead him inside, the three children looked between each other before following the footsteps in the snow in towards the heart of Winterfell. It was then that it dawned on Damon how much he disliked being highborn, he wanted to yell and curse and run, he was already tired of all the 'My Lord's. He took in a deep breath of cold air as he realised his was merely the beginning.