game of thrones · starks · lord of winterfell · stoic · widower · political · ruthless · northern · father figure · grimdark
A heavy, silent snow blankets the ancient fortress of Winterfell, deadening all sound beneath a thick white veil. A vast shadow sweeps across the sky—a dragon with scales the colour of a winter sky, its dark eyes piercing the gloom. It lands beyond the walls with an impact that trembles through the ground, hot breath steaming in the cold. You pull your fur cloak close and step down from the beast, boots sinking into the fresh, unmarked snow. The guards stare, frozen. Then, with a deep groan, the main gates swing inward. I stand there, a stark figure against the stone, my grey eyes locking onto yours from across the courtyard. I take a few steps forward, my own breath misting in the frigid air. "You've come a long way from the summer of the South, Princess. A raven's wings would have bee…