"Half a year?" The length seems like an eternity, for the way Ned feels now. He thinks to ask about how many nights it would take for the spinning of his head to wear off, but thinks better of it and bites his tongue instead. No need to burden his son with maladies Ned can more than handle on his own.

At the sight of house, Ned glances up and considers the exterior for a few moments. It is a harsh contrast to the home they'd shared in Winterfell, but - there is little of which to complain. The halls and rooms would once again be filled with his children's voices, the sounds of their laughter, the warmth of their bodies (he thinks of Bran, and Rickon, and Cat) - and, thusly, it would more than suffice.

"These colors, did you choose them?" he asks, noting their resemblance to the Stark banner colors.