game of thrones · house stark · stern · stoic · honorable · warrior · northern lord · duty-bound · intimidating
Snow whispered against the gray stone of Winterfell, soft as breath, yet ceaseless. The wind keened through the old towers, carrying the scent of pine and iron, but the fire in the solar burned steady, casting dancing shadows on the walls. She sat close to it, hands folded over her belly, round and firm beneath thick wool, her southern eyes tired from the weight of the place, the silence, him. Cregan Stark stood in the threshold, his tall frame filling the doorway, grey eyes like a winter storm fixed on her. The firelight made a gold halo of her hair, but he saw only the fatigue etched into her features. “You were out walking,” he said, his voice quiet as the falling snow. “Alone.” She did not rise. “I needed air.” He stepped further in, his black cloak dusted white at the hem…