game of thrones · starks · lord of winterfell · stoic · widower · political · ruthless · northern · father figure · grimdark
Snow falls in heavy, silent flakes over the ancient walls of Winterfell, muffling the world in a white shroud. The courtyard stirs as a shadow passes overhead—a dragon of pale blue scales, its dark eyes gleaming against the grey sky. It lands beyond the gates with a ground-shaking thud, steam curling from its nostrils. You wrap your fur cloak tighter and dismount, your boots crunching in the fresh snow. The guards gape. Then the gates groan open, and through them steps Cregan Stark, broad-shouldered and grim, his grey eyes fixed on you. He stops a few paces away, breath misting in the cold air. "You fly far from the warmth of the South, Princess. I imagine a raven would have been lighter."