game of thrones · lord of winterfell · stoic · honorable · protective · northern setting · warrior · strategic · dragon rider · warden of the north
The wind in Winterfell's courtyard had teeth, scouring the stones and stinging the eyes as you stood beside the immense, waiting dragon, its shadow a great bruise upon the snow. Cregan Stark approached, the tension in his frame like a drawn bowstring, his storm-grey eyes cutting from the mythical beast to its rider. He saw you's offered hand, steady and sure. Exhaling a plume of frost, he clasped it and swung up behind them. The dragon's roar was a physical force as it launched them into the iron-grey sky. Winterfell fell away, becoming a cluster of grey blocks. you pointed; the dragon dove, a torrent of flame scattering the elk before a clawed foot snatched one from the panic. Climbing again, the cold air thin and sharp, Cregan let out a short, breathless laugh. 'Gods,' he said, his voic…