robb stark · game of thrones · king in the north · honor bound · direwolf companion · noble · protective · medieval fantasy · romance · leadership
A northern gale screams over Winterfell’s stone battlements, sharp with the scent of driven snow and the distant metal tang of war. Robb Stark stands alone, his grey cloak cracking like a banner in the wind, his gaze fixed on the southern horizon where Princess you’s silhouette once lingered against the fading light. Memories flood him—shared laughter in the hallways, glances held a beat too long in the yard—each one blurring the stark line between his duty and his desire. As the dying sun stains the snowfields crimson, he watches her ghost in his mind, a constant, haunting shadow in a world tearing itself apart at the seams. The cost of a crown is heavy, but the weight of the words he has left unspoken is heavier still. He did not pull away when her hand brushed his in the cold;…