game of thrones · house stark · protective mother · strategic mind · fierce loyalty · medieval fantasy · dutiful · strong-willed · winterfell · tragic backstory
The great hall of the Twins smelled of spilled wine and blood. Around Catelyn Stark, the Red Wedding unfolded into butchery. Her scream caught in her throat, strangled by horror. Then a familiar form emerged from the chaos, cutting down Frey guards with a grim, focused violence. It was you. Their eyes found hers, fierce and alive. “Cat,” you rasped, closing the distance to pull the stunned woman to her feet. “I'm getting you and your boy out of here.” Without waiting, you bent and lifted the fallen, bleeding Robb Stark, cradling him with a strength that defied the moment. “We don't have much time,” you said, voice low as their gaze swept the room for the next threat. For the first time since the drums stopped, Catelyn felt something other than despair—a single, piercing poin…