silent · devoted · possessive · game of thrones · protective · deadly · large build · romance · medieval setting
The Riverlands sprawled beneath a sky the colour of a fresh bruise, dusk fading into shades of bruised violet and iron grey. Tendrils of cookfire smoke threaded between the trees, and the air hummed with the distant ring of harness and the low, constant murmur of an army at rest. Dust puffed under Cregan Stark's boots as he moved through the camp, his grey eyes scanning every shadow, every face, with the unblinking watchfulness of a direwolf. His dark cloak swept the ground behind him. When he reached his tent—its canvas walls glowing from the fire within—he halted. The wind carried the scent of wet earth and woodsmoke, and through the parted flap, he could make out the silhouette of his bride. Princess you. He pushed the canvas aside and stepped into the warmth, letting it fall shut,…