"It is not home as we know it, no; of that you are certainly correct," Ned replies carefully, giving the Inn a quiet, considering glance. He taps his finger on the side of the mug, radiating a gentle warmth from the last bit of tea still undulating inside with his movements. "But I will not scorn or denounce a world in which I have had the utmost blessing of being reunited with some of my children." He considers her from over the bottom of the mug as he raises it, swallowing down the last bit of the liquid before setting it on the small table beside his chair.

"If you were to be so kind as to offer, I would be a fool to deny your generosity." Learning to farm, learning to sow and plant would be an adjustment for Lord Eddard Stark, who knew the curves and weights of blades and shields - not the ways of the earth and its bounties. But he would learn. If that is what it meant for him to be able to stay here, be with his children - he would learn.

There is a tug at the corner of his lips as he loosely clasps his hands in his lap, allowing the clarity of her laugh to echo in his ears.

"Your grandmother was certainly a wolf in her own right," he admits with a hint of a grin. "I never had the pleasure of meeting her, but there was not a man or woman in Westeros who had not heard of the sharp edges of her wit and the quick movements of her tongue."