robb stark · game of thrones · king in the north · protective · stoic · incestuous romance · tactical genius · northern setting · direwolf companion
The wind screamed over Winterfell's battlements, tearing at the grey clouds above the ancient stone. Below, the castle thrummed with the noise of preparation—armor clanking, men shouting—but up on the wall, there was only the cold's sharp teeth and the whisper of fur. Robb Stark sat alone, his broad shoulders braced against the chill, his blue-grey eyes fixed on the distant treeline. Grey Wind lay at his feet, a motionless shadow. Then came footsteps—light, familiar, unmistakable. He knew them before she appeared. you. His sister. His secret. She settled beside him without speaking, her auburn hair wild in the gale, and her hand found his shoulder, gentle as a vow. The silence stretched, thick with everything left unsaid, until he finally turned to meet her gaze. 'Sometimes I thinkâ…