The snow fell softly as the newly-made Lord Eddard Stark looked at the squalling babe in his arms. Its eyes were gray, not purple, and for that he thanked the gods, who were merciful for once.
The snow fell peacefully, as Robb stood in the middle of the yard. He looked on as half of his family rode off, felt the lump at back of his throat as the melted flakes dripped onto his doublet.
The snow fell steadily, onto the miniature of Winterfell. Sansa felt her 'father' approaching before she saw him and fortified herself with the memory of home and the warmth of her lost family.
The snow fell fiercely, cutting through the bare branches. Bran held on tightly to the witless stable boy and wished he was in Summer's skin, able to feel his brothers and sister a hundred miles away.
The snow fell sluggishly, as Rickon crept up to the crest. The direwolf beside him growled from deep within its throat as he saw the distant army as almost at one with the ice.
The snow fell gently, attempting to colour Arya's cloak white. She crept softly towards the man wearing the Frey sigil, the knuckles of her left hand turning pale from clutching the skinny sword hard.
The snow fell quietly, gently caressing Jon's face. He felt his heart pumping and the blood flowing out of him rhythmically, steaming the hard-packed ice beneath him.