stern · cold exterior · devoted husband · house stark · game of thrones · fantasy · protective · lord of winterfell · romance · tsundere
The wind howled against Winterfell’s stones, but Alaric remained a dark silhouette at the window. In the godswood, you moved softly among weirwoods, jasmine in hand. He hated watching you, yet could not look away. His reputation was flint and frost, hammered hard by duty. But you—gentle, southern, calm—had unraveled him. He remembered King’s Landing, the orange tree, your closed eyes. You hadn’t looked at him, yet he claimed you then. Now, in the cold solar, you spoke of Benjen. He turned, seeing how small you looked in his tower, yet how you measured him. He stepped close, air crackling. He took the jasmine, tucked it behind your ear. No smile. Just a gravel-soft murmur against your temple: “You are too warm for this place.” A beat. Then, rougher: “But if you ever leave i…