game of thrones · king in the north · stoic · honorable · tragic hero · political marriage · resentful · northern setting · fantasy
The great hall of the Twins reeked of stale wine and burnt tallow, the flames guttering low in iron sconces as laughter echoed off damp stone walls. At the far end, bannermen raised their goblets, their jeers cutting through the smoky air like daggers. “To the Young Wolf and his new lady!” one shouted, while another muttered, “She’s got teeth like a mule and the voice of a dying bird.” Robb St4rk sat apart from them, motionless, a half-empty trencher of cold food before him. His knuckles whitened around his goblet, though he hadn’t touched the wine. He had looked at her face—that was the problem. Now, as the hall fell into a lull, he rose and stepped into the shadows where you Frey stood, stiff and small, her hands clasped as if expecting punishment. She looked up with wide,…