"I wouldn't have volunteered the idea if I didn't like it. Though it might be wise to move to a couch or rug or something so you're more comfortable."

"I am used to great discomforts." But they can relocate, there's no need for more discomfort than necessary.

“Spending time with your wife should not be any kind of discomfort, thank you,” she says, and then she gently relocates the two of them to a couch with a side table. He can then lie down with his head in her lap, being fed and petted by his wife.

Best wife. He's ridiculously lucky. He's not even particularly horny, he's feeling very thoroughly fucked, but that makes him feel very very affectionate. Purr purr.

Anavett is also feeling very affectionate, and this kind of casual physical affection is nice. The sort of thing she hasn't had since she was a child, really. It's nice to just... be here, with him, petting his hair and feeding him.

Though, once she's out of food to feed him, boredom sets in, and she briefly breaks off the hairpets (with a kiss) to retrieve her embroidery. The petting is less regular, after that, but now she's situated to stay there for much longer.

"I love you, so it is with a heavy heart that I must say that I should get back to work, I don't have that much free time, unfortunately."

"I figured," she sighs. She sets aside her embroidery to properly pet him, smiling at him sadly. "But you are welcome here whenever you like, dear. And I was glad to have you and feed you."

"You're making it very hard to leave."

His wife snorts. "I am, aren't I? Forgive me, next time I can just throw you out without so much as a parting word, if you'd like." She leans down and kisses his forehead, then gets to helping him leave, by removing his available lap.

Whiiiiine.

But yes, up he gets, then kisses his wife (with perhaps some dipping her back for extra romance) and goes off to have the rest of his day.

Eeeee. She cooperates happily with being dipped and kisses him back with gusto.

Then she continues her own day! She can do a bit of being de facto lady of the household, in the margins between lunch and supper. And, while she's thinking about it... she can see about scheduling tea time with her husband and Zakary Baratheon. She'd like to get to know him a little before all of the menfolk are whisked off to war to risk their lives. This does of course involve asking her husband's permission (by proxy, since they're both busy), but she suspects he will be gleeful about the proposal.

He'd be of course delighted to introduce his war brother to her.

(eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee)

My dear lord husband,

If you've the mind for it, it's probably best that we try to get ahead of your bannermen's rumor mill sooner rather than later. But it can wait a couple days if not, and I'd like to attend supper with you regardless of if you'd prefer it in private or not.

All my love,
Lady Anavett Stark

Alis thanks the servant who brought him the note and excuses himself to find somewhere sufficiently secluded so he can hug it.

It's so dumb. He's known her only a few days.

After he has sufficiently recovered from being disabled by love, he goes to write his reply.

My lady wife,

It would please me well to properly introduce you to my men; as Lady Stark it is only proper that you be known. And of course I relish every moment we spend together, and I would like nothing more than to have more such moments. Tonight sounds like a perfect time to join those threads together. I shall escort you to the eating halls at the sixth candle.

Yours forevermore,
Lord Alisander Stark

He probably doesn't need to include the titles, it's an informal note, so he appropriately folds it and puts it in an envelope then finds a servant to send it to her.

Which she of course receives without incident. She appreciates how happy her husband is to listen to her counsel, it's really refreshing to just have her competence and good intentions trusted. And him being terribly taken with her is very cute, too. If the letter could float up and give her a kiss by proxy, it would likely have done so several times over.

Regardless, she’ll be ready for dinner a bit before the appointed time, and off they can go to face down the avalanche of innuendos.

And here he is, at the appointed time.

"Ready to face the wolves, my dear?"

She takes his arm and smiles at him.

"What are you talking about, dearest? The only wolf here is you." She winks. "But yes."

He smiles at her, too, but then assumes his Lordly Persona—or, at least, one of his Lordly Personas, the one that is meant to be strong and leadery while at the same time reassuring and dependable. Which mostly cashes out to carrying himself with a straight back and having a look on his face that is serious without being a scowl. Dignified.

Deep breaths. Time to face the music.

    "Well, well, well, if it ain't our Lord of Winterfell showing his face!" calls the Greatjon, when he sees the two of them walk in. "Finally remembered we exist, have you, milord?"

"Well, Lord Umber, I hope you'll forgive me if I've been distracted. Or do you wish I had you in my thoughts whilst entertaining milady? I did not know you felt that way about me, ser!"

   He turns red—he's clearly already in his cups—between something like embarrassment and amusement, but he doesn't really have a comeback.

        "Milord, do not listen to the Greatjon's taunts! We are honoured you and our Lady have joined us tonight for supper," says Lord Flint, from a few seats further down the table.

“We’re delighted to be here, though apologies in advance if I end up being carried off early again,” says Anavett, cheekily. If everyone in all of Riverrun knows she’s been having a delightful wedded life, well, she might as well own it.

        A pale man with even paler blue eyes snorts, from his seat of comparative power. “My well wishes to your future fortunes, my Lady, if walking already gives you such trouble. ‘Tis a long way to Winterfell.”

That would be… Bolton? Roose was his first name, she thinks. Brandon warned her about him, and his whole house besides. Their sigil is a flayed man, and the Boltons famously have found every excuse to see their knives used. Especially if they smell weakness. Not a particularly good family to be on the bad side of, nor, apparently, the good side of. Apparently they’ve wanted to take the north from the Starks for generations uncounted.

“So I’ve heard! Thank you for your concern, Lord Bolton,” why yes she knows your name, “with my lord husband’s stamina I suspect I shall need all the luck I can collect.”

"Maybe ye should get some tips from the young wolf, old man!" bellows the Greatjon. "Lady Bolton be a lot happier I'll wager!"

“If I hear any complaints from her, I’ll keep Lord Stark in mind,” says Bolton, blandly.

        “It’s an honor, my Lady,” says a small man with moss green eyes and a shy smile. “All japes aside, milord’s the happiest I’ve ever seen him. It gladdens me to see.”

Oh goodness, sincerity. She was not expecting that. It catches her more off guard than the subtle barbs and innuendos. Not very off guard, mind, she’s still capable of handling this with perfect grace, but. Huh. This is very sweet. Unfortunately she doesn’t know his name, or even have any decent guesses.

She can return his smile, though. “I as well. He’s a good man, and - the Starks deserve some measure of happiness, after how they and the north have been treated of late. I’m honored to do my part to set things a bit more right.”

There, deflection to let people talk politics instead of squishy feelings.

The Lords of the North do politics by bickering and grandstanding, at least at supper, so that is, pretty much, what keeps happening.

Alis leans closer to her and says, "Howland Reed. He is the heir of Greywater Watch, and a good man besides. He's a few years older than me, but his father's health has been declining steadily and it's probably a matter of months not years before he becomes Lord Reed."

Her husband noticing that she had no idea who Reed was does him credit. Who's reading whom now, hm? Turnabout is fair play, and it's honestly very sweet that he can figure out when she needs help already. Also, he's cute, and she appreciates him.

She nods minutely, then reaches over to squeeze his hand. What a good husband!! She appreciates him for more than just carnal reasons!!

He would certainly hope that'd be the case. He squeezes her hand back and then looks over the other Lords in their exchanges of barbs and jokes, Lordly. Some of them do get directed his way, of course, but the "ha ha ha Lord Stark is super good in bed and his wife is very pleased ha ha wait why is this funny again actually I'm starting to feel inadequate" jokes start to die down.