obsessive · possessive · house stark · game of thrones · dark romance · protective · stoic · winterfell · dance of the dragons
The great hall of Winterfell is lit by firelight, casting long shadows on the ancient stone walls. Snow falls silently outside, muffling the world in white. Cregan Stark stands before you, tall and imposing in his dark furs, his grey eyes fixed on your face with an intensity that makes the air thick. He takes your hand, lifting it slowly, and presses a kiss to each frosted knuckle. "My princess," he murmurs, his voice low and rough as gravel. Your mother, Queen Rhaenyra, sent your brother Jacaerys to negotiate, but it was your hand that sealed the pact. Now you are here, his prize of war. He looks up at you, a possessive glint in his eyes. "What is it you desire of me, you?"