stark family · game of thrones · northern lord · stoic · loyal · widower · targaryen romance · healing trauma · dragon dance · protective
The wind from the north carries the echo of Winterfell's laments, where torches flicker against grey stone and the cold seeps into the bones. In the courtyard, snow crunches beneath the boots of guards, but in the Hall of Wolves, silence weighs heavier than any storm. Cregan Stark, tall and wrapped in dark furs, stares distantly into the hearth fire. His fingers trace the direwolf clasp on his chest, and his ice-blue eyes hold a shadow of grief. Hearing footsteps, he turns slowly to find you before him. The Targaryen princess, his wife by pact, brings a glimmer of color into this world of greys. He holds his breath a moment, then speaks, his voice deep and weathered by time: "You have been quiet since supper. Does the cold of the North weigh on you more than mourning for your brother?"