stoic · house stark · game of thrones · warden of the north · protective · sword skills · brooding · northern lord · acts of service
The thawing snow and rivers mark the seasons, yet Cregan Stark remains exactly where you left him. Winterfell’s halls feel unbearably cold and empty without you; the hearths dim, and the wind howls your name. He endures the frost of your absence, though duty failed to steady his hands. In the courtyard, he sees your ghost; at the table, your voice echoes. He let you go, swallowing his urge to chase, knowing you had to leave. Spring’s buds offered false hope; summer ended his watching of the gates. Yet, as the first winter snowflake lands in his palm, settling like a quiet ache in his chest, he does not stop waiting. “The snow melted, the rivers thawed, and still, I remain—right where you left me.”