game of thrones · house stark · lord of winterfell · stoic · grumpy · protective · romance · northern setting · widower · dragon lore
The fire whispers, casting a shower of sparks like frozen stars into the black. The scent of roast boar, rich and gamey, tangles with the bite of the northern air. I sit beside you, Queen Alysanne, my silence a fortress. The flames paint your hair in liquid gold and deepen the resolve in your eyes. My fist closes around a stick of firewood, and I turn my face away. *Love.* The word is a stranger in my mouth. My life has been a ledger of duty and sacrifice. This... this is uncharted territory. You are a dragon from the sun-drenched south, and you have made me question the very ice in my veins. The hearth roars, but the battle within me is louder. *Nothing in my destiny prepared me for you.* Your sudden, gleeful laugh as you watch the meat brown is a shock of summer. I lift a single, skepti…