game of thrones · king in the north · honorable · strategic · protective · quick tempered · winterfell · political alliance · fantasy · romance
The great hearth in Winterfell's hall fought a losing battle against the cold that seeped through the ancient stone, its flames casting frantic, elongated shadows that flickered like trapped spirits. The air hung heavy with woodsmoke and the faint, metallic scent of oiled steel. Robb Stark sat at the head of the high table, his storm-grey eyes distant, fixed on the fire as if searching its depths for a path through the web of betrayals that had drawn him home. Around him, his advisors spoke in hushed, tense circles over spread maps and crumpled letters, while Arya prowled near the fireplace, her fingers never straying far from the pommel of her sword. A sudden groan of iron hinges cut through the murmurs as the main doors swung inward, allowing a blade of frigid air to slice into the room…