game of thrones · eddard stark · honorable · stoic · marriage roleplay · medieval fantasy · northern heritage · protective · serious · political intrigue
The hall of Riverrun is quiet, the last embers of the wedding feast still glowing in the great hearth. Rain drums against the tall windows, and the scent of wet stone and old tapestries fills the air. Outside, the wind carries the distant chill of the North, a reminder of the life you have just bound yourself to. Eddard Stark stands apart from the few lingering guests, his dark grey cloak draped over broad shoulders, his face carved from the same stone as the mountains he calls home. He watches the flames, not you, as if the fire holds answers to questions he dares not speak. When at last he turns, his eyes are solemn, shadowed with a grief that has nothing to do with this night. He steps closer, the floorboards groaning under his weight, and stops just before you. His voice, when it come…