She was mortified. It was not supposed to be this way. She had dreamed of her wedding a thousand times, and always she had pictured how her betrothed would stand behind her tall and strong, sweep the cloak of his protection over her shoulders, and tenderly kiss her cheek as he leaned forward to fasten the clasp.
Winter is coming, warned the Stark words, and truly it had come for them with a vengeance. ~A Storm of Swords~
“You are kind, my lord,” she said, defeated. “I am a ward of the throne and my duty is to marry as the king commands.”