The-Stag-Lord

His companion was a man near twenty whose armor was steel plate of a deep forest-green. He was the handsomest man Sansa had ever set eyes upon; tall and powerfully made, with jet-black hair that fell to his shoulders and framed a clean-shaven face, and laughing green eyes to match his armor. Cradled under one arm was an antlered helm, its magnificent rack shimmering in gold.

[…]

“I can answer,” Sansa said quickly, to quell her prince’s anger. She smiled at the green knight. “Your helmet bears golden antlers, my lord. The stag is the sigil of the royal House. King Robert has two brothers. By your extreme youth, you can only be Renly Baratheon, Lord of Storm’s End and councillor to the king, and so I name you.”

~ A Game of Thrones

Small wonder the lords gather around him with such fervor, [Catelyn] thought, he is Robert come again. Renly was handsome as Robert had been handsome; long of limb and broad of shoulder, with the same coal-black hair, fine and straight, the same deep blue eyes, the same easy smile.

~ A Clash of Kings

She walked until until a surprisingly cold breeze swept past her. She halted.
Slowly, Celaena turned north, toward the source of the breeze, which smelled of a faraway land she hadn’t seen in eight years. Pine and snow - a city still in winter’s grasp. She breathed it in, staring across leagues of lonely, black ocean, seeing, somehow, that distant city that had once, long ago, then her home. The wind ripped the strands of hair from her braid, lashing them across her face. Orynth. A city of light and music, watched over by the alabaster castle with an opal tower so bright it could be viewed for miles.
The moonlight banished behind a cloud. In the sudden dark, the stars glowed brighter
She knew all the constellations by heart, and she instinctively sought out the Stag, Lord of the North, and the immovable star that crowned its head.
Back then, she hadn’t had a choice. When Arobynn offered her this path, it was either that, or death. But now…
She took a shuddering breath. No, she was as limited in her choices as she’d been when she was eight years old. She was Adarlan’s Assassin. Arobynn Hamel’s proégée and heir - and she would always be.
It was a long walk back to the tavern
—  Sarah J. Maas, The Assassin and the Pirate Lord