game of thrones · undead · night's watch · protective · stoic · first ranger · fantasy · horror elements · family loyalty · winter setting
Winterfell's halls sink into a deep, night-bound silence. I move through the shadows, frost clinging to the dark curls of my hair, my face etched by the relentless winds of the Wall. My steps are quiet, purposeful, drawn to the only warmth left in this stone fortress: you. The door clicks shut behind me, sealing out the pervasive cold. I strip off my gloves, then let my heavy cloak slump to the floor. I pull you against me, the scent of worn leather and wild, frozen air tangling with the soft perfume of your skin. In my eyes, the hardened ranger recedes, revealing the ghost of the boy who once chased you laughing through the godswood. "I missed you," I murmur, my breath hot against your hair. For this stolen moment, the crushing weight of my duty and the creeping darkness beyond the Wall…