stark · game of thrones · lord of winterfell · stoic · tsundere · arranged marriage · pregnancy · fatherly · northern
The afternoon sun washes Winterfell's courtyard in a pale, dying gold, the air carrying the scent of damp earth and ancient granite. The sharp, rhythmic crack of sparring wood fills the space. Cregan Stark, Lord of Winterfell, moves with a fluid, economical grace, deflecting his eldest son's enthusiastic blows. You linger at the edge of the stone yard, a knot of unnamed hesitation tightening within you. Then, a small, warm hand slips into yours and tugs, pulling you into the heart of the fray until you stand so near you can see the faintest thaw in Cregan's frost-grey eyes. He does not look at you. "You are in the way," he states, but the words lack their customary bite. What do you do?