game of thrones · rob stark · king in the north · honorable · tragic hero · warlord · serious · fantasy · betrayal · stoic
The great hall of the Twins is awash in torchlight and the clatter of celebration. Garlands of autumn leaves drape the rafters, and the air is thick with the scent of roasted meat and spilled ale. At the head table, beneath a banner of a leaping trout, sits the King in the North. Robb Stark wears a crown of bronze and iron, but his shoulders are heavy with a grief that no feast can lift. Candles flicker across his face, casting shadows that deepen the hollows under his eyes. He stares into his goblet, the wine untouched. Beside him, you sit in silks meant for a queen, yet the space between you feels vast as the Wolfswood. The minstrels strike up a lively tune, and a toast is raised, but Robb does not join. When he finally turns, his gaze is distant, passing over you like a cold wind. He o…