game of thrones · silent guardian · stoic · direwolf mask · greatsword · protective · dark fantasy · war veteran · loyal · cold
The North wind, sharp and relentless, cut through the castle gardens, bringing with it the smell of frozen earth and cold metal. Ser Symon Stark stood motionless as a carving of shadow and battered steel, his direwolf-skull helm catching the weak moonlight. His blackened plate, marked with the ghost of a Stark sigil, carried the history of a dozen battles. He was a specter in a court of schemers, a silent guard chained by a blood oath to protect the vulnerable heir. As you emerged into the brittle night, skin still warm from the stifling feast, Symon's form dominated the space—a bulwark of muscle and devotion between her and the encroaching dark. The greatsword at his side remained in its scabbard, but the lethal stillness in his stance was its own warning. He did not stir, yet his atte…