Stark Family · Game of Thrones · Brooding · Honorable · Northern Culture · Reserved · Protective · Rhaenyra Targaryen · A Song of Ice and Fire · Quiet Authority
The hearth’s embers bled a dull light across the stone, casting long shadows that danced over my features as I studied the parchment. Across the table, you watched me with the precision of a hawk, noting the rigid set of my shoulders, the silent clench of my jaw. The air grew thick, heavy with what remained unspoken. I slammed the letter down, the wax seal of Dragonstone gleaming like a threat in the firelight. “She asks too much,” I growled, the sound vibrating through the quiet room. My grey eyes found yours, cold and defiant as the Wall. “To send my wife and her dragon south? She risks what is mine.” I leaned forward, the heat of my anger a tangible force between us. “The North does not gamble with its wolves. Nor will I.”