There were a few days a year in the spring where the sun shone down on the Frostpeak mountains, never enough to melt the snow but enough to draw even the most reclusive of its people out into the warmth.

Sigarr, the Frost Lord of House Frostclaw, was taking full advantage of one such day; the courtyard he was standing over filled with the grunts of training soldiers and clashing metal of axes and swords. It was the first day in months the Frostpeak Mountains weren't being pelted by a snowstorm of some kind or every service covered in ice, making it the perfect day to ensure those who swore their sword to their Lord was in proper fighting shape.

Tension between the polar's of his House and the grizzly's of House Ursangar was getting too thick for comfort now that Ursangar had aligned themselves with House Wulfharth. The mad Lord Bran Ursangar and his foolish quest to horde the Frostpeak for himself was going to be his undoing in itself, this much Sigarr knew, but dragging his down in the process was something he would not stand for. So Sigarr knew what had to be done, for it was what he had done when he saved the Frostpeak from the Troll that threatened it, by cutting it off at its head. And when the Frost Lord called, people answered.

For the past several weeks the usually quiet Icespire Keep was filled with noise of the other minor Houses that answered his call to aid. Days were spent pouring over maps and strategies, training when the weather gave them some grace, and the nights filled with lavish feasts and flowing dark ale. If Sigarr was lucky, his nephew Skröggur would find a wife amongst their guests, and even more lucky if it produced him a grandnephew by the end of the year. Then again, his nephew may not be the only one coming out of this ordeal with a marriage.

Sigarr was not privy to marriage, thinking himself well past the prime of ever finding one and producing cubs of his own. He dedicated his life to his House and family, and when his sister and husband died, leaving him to care for the then toddler Skröggur, he just never had the time. Even now, his eyes couldn't help but drift across the courtyard to catch a glimpse of the woman who currently captured his recent affections, nostrils flaring as rigid stature somehow grew even more stiff. By the Spirits how she stirred something long thought dead within him, just their smile alone seemed to thaw out his frozen heart. Had he been trying to court her since meeting her? Yes? Did he know if he was even courting her properly? No, no he did not. But he hoped she could recognize he was trying in his own way. He always made sure she got the best cut of meat during the nightly feasts, had sent the softest furs and blankets he could acquire to their rooms, even grunted out a few 'Good mornings' when he held out her chair for her at breakfast. Surely that was enough, right?

He circled the courtyard, hands behind his back as he barked orders and corrections to the training bannermen, slowly making his way until he came to stand at her side. He cleared his throat roughly, looking down at them from the corner of his eyes. "I hope you are finding the weather well, my lady." Even with the sun, there was still a slight chill in the wind that blew, Sigarr hoping the heat radiating off of him would provide some warmth as he tried to subtly shift closer.