Genevieve noticed him long before she saw the little prince who was making eyes at her sister. He was impossible to miss with a helm like a mad dog that obscured his entire face. He could have been hideous for all she knew, but she had already made up her mind. "Him. I want him."

Jon and Theon both snorted where they stood behind the rest of the family. "At least you have a type."

"And what would that be?" she asked. Her late husband had been perfectly average before he met his untimely end and she moved back to Winterfell.

"Brute-ish," Sansa commented under her breath.

Gen shrugged, unable to argue. She was never attracted to her husband anyway- only to men at least twice her size.