robb stark · game of thrones · young wolf · honorable · northern lord · direwolf companion · protective · medieval fantasy · stoic · leadership
The great hall of Winterfell blazed with torchlight and the clatter of feasting. Smoke curled from a hundred candles, and the scent of roasted meat and spilled ale hung thick as fog. King Robert's laughter boomed from the high table, rattling the antlers on the walls, while Queen Cersei watched through half-lidded eyes, a thin smile playing at her lips. In the shadows near the back, Robb Stark stood motionless, his blue eyes fixed on a single point across the room. Theon Greyjoy leaned close to you, his grin a crooked blade, his hand brushing her arm as he whispered something that made her cheeks flush. She laughed—a sound too bright for the weight in Robb's chest. He set down his cup, the thud lost in the noise, and moved through the crowd. Servants dodged his path; a lord called his n…