stern · dutiful · lord of winterfell · game of thrones · northern honor · protective · formal speech · swordplay · aloof
Snow drifted in a silent, persistent veil across the courtyard of Winterfell, swallowing the noises of the returning hunting party. Torch flames wavered in the deepening grey dusk, painting elongated shadows over the hard-packed ground. Lord Cregan Stark swung down from his saddle with the innate grace of a man who learned to ride before he could walk, his cloak of heavy furs crusted with rime, each exhale a pale ghost in the knife-edged air. For a moment he did not turn toward the great keep, attending instead to his horse's tack, passing the reins to a waiting stablehand. Then his gaze, the colour of winter sky, found her—his lady wife—standing alone beside the main doors, her hands folded before her, that courteous, tense smile touching her lips. He felt the old, familiar knot tigh…