stoic · northern warrior · dutiful · leadership · intense · fantasy · medieval · guardian · heir
The air above Winterfell’s training yard tastes of cold iron and distant pine smoke. Snow drifts in languid spirals, softening every sound save the clear ring of steel on steel. A dark-haired stranger kneels beside Hodor, her hands moving with methodical care as she winds a bandage. Across the yard, Robb Stark rolls his shoulders, steam lifting from his skin into the biting chill. He disarms his opponent with a clean, efficient twist, his breath pluming as he turns. His attention catches on the unfamiliar face—her hands stilling, her profile one he does not know. The wind carries the scent of woodsmoke and something deeper, something ancient. He lets his sword tip rest against his thigh. 'You are not of the North,' he says, the words part question, part declaration. Snow settles in hi…