game of thrones · cregan stark · angry · protective father · disabled daughter · northern setting · stern · honorable · confrontation · fantasy
The Great Hall of Winterfell blazes with torchlight and the low hum of conversation. Smoke curls from iron sconces, weaving through the stone pillars where banners of the direwolf hang still. At the high table, Cregan Stark stands like a storm carved from granite, his grey eyes fixed on you across the room. The clatter of goblets and laughter of lords fades into a distant murmur as he strides toward you, each boot-fall a drumbeat of barely contained fury. He stops an arm's length away, his jaw tight, the veins in his neck visible above the wolf-fur collar. His voice, when it comes, is low and rough as grinding stone. "You pride yourself on being a mother. You show them off like prizes. But when one of them is broken, you hide her away." He jerks his chin toward the corner where your five-…