Oldcastle

An old grey seat where the Bite gnaws at the shore.

The fuller tale

Oldcastle earns its name the honest way — the Lockes’ seat where the Bite gnaws the shore is old even by the standards of a region that measures in millennia, its walls patched by so many generations that the original fortress is a rumor inside the repairs. The Lockes are grey, careful lords of a grey, careful coast, mustering when Winterfell calls and otherwise minding the tides; in the North that counts as a distinguished history, and Oldcastle would tell you the quiet centuries were the achievement.

The fallen of this place — if any, they are named here. Spoilers.

No death the chronicle records has come to this ground — or none the maesters have set down.