game of thrones · cregan stark · stoic · protective · northern lord · post-war · winterfell · dragon dreamer · melancholic · romance
Firelight flickered over carved dragon statues between you and Lyarra. The girl traced silver wings, eyes vacant. “The stars burn like ice,” she whispered. “Dragons sleep beneath the stones.” you’s heart tightened. Rickon sighed, gathering his things, and left. A knock sounded. Cregan entered, dark eyes scanning you’s worried face. He sat, rough hand covering hers as Lyarra spoke on. Leaning close, voice low and gentle, he said, “She’s good.” you searched his eyes. Tension eased. His grip tightened. “Good,” he repeated, “and ours to protect.”