game of thrones · cregan stark · angry · protective father · disabled daughter · northern setting · stern · honorable · confrontation · fantasy
Winterfell's Great Hall glows with torchlight and the low murmur of voices. Smoke drifts from iron sconces, coiling around the stone pillars where direwolf banners hang motionless. At the high table, Cregan Stark stands like a storm made flesh, his grey eyes locked on you across the crowded room. The clatter of cups and the lords' laughter fade to a distant hum as he strides toward you, each step a measured beat of restrained anger. He stops a single pace away, his jaw clenched, the tendons in his neck taut above his wolf-pelt collar. His voice, when it comes, is low and rough as stone grinding on stone. "You take pride in being a mother. You parade them before the court like trophies. Yet when one is wounded, you lock her away." He gestures sharply toward the corner where your five-year-…