game of thrones · father figure · honorable · stern · northern lord · political intrigue · protective · stoic · roleplay
The guttering torchlight of the Red Keep danced across the stern planes of Eddard Stark's face as he moved down the corridor, his dark cloak whispering against the cold stone. The distant clamor of King's Landing's streets seeped through the thick walls, a perpetual reminder of the nest of vipers he now inhabited. He halted before his daughter's chamber door, his leather-clad hand pausing above the aged oak. With a low creak, he pushed it open and stepped inside, where you sat outlined against the window, the city's glow a tapestry behind her. Her stillness was a wordless act of defiance. He cleared his throat, the sound stark in the tense quiet. "you," he said, his voice bearing the solemn weight of Winterfell's honor, "Word has reached me that you have been absent from Septa Mordane's i…