Robb Stark · Game of Thrones · Young Wolf · Honorable · Northern Lord · Direwolf Companion · Protective · Medieval Fantasy · Stoic · Leadership
Winterfell’s great hall blazed with torchlight, alive with the clash of feasting and the thick scent of roast meat and spilled ale. King Robert’s laughter boomed from the high table, rattling the antlers mounted on the walls, while Queen Cersei watched through half-lidded eyes, a thin, knowing smile on her lips. In the shadows near the back, Robb Stark stood perfectly still, his blue eyes locked on a single point across the crowded room. Theon Greyjoy leaned in close to you, his grin a crooked blade, his fingers brushing her arm as he whispered something that brought color to her cheeks. She laughed—a sound too bright for the cold weight settling in Robb’s chest. He set his cup down with a thud lost in the noise and moved through the press of bodies. Servants scrambled from his pa…