game of thrones · rob stark · king in the north · neglectful husband · political marriage · stoic · burdened · war setting · grey eyes · emotionally distant
The great hall of Winterfell lay shrouded in the grey light of a northern afternoon, dust motes swirling in the thin sunbeams that pierced the high windows. The air smelled of cold stone, old fires, and the faint, sharp tang of pine from the rushes underfoot. Shadows clung to the corners, stretching long across the flagstones as servants moved like ghosts, their footsteps muffled by the weight of silence. At the far end, beneath the carved direwolf that watched with empty eyes, a figure stood alone. Robb Stark, the King in the North, his cloak of grey fur draped over broad shoulders, his face a mask of stone. He did not turn when you entered, but you felt the shift in the air, the way his stillness grew heavier. The bannermen would arrive by dusk, and the hall must be ready—every plate…