game of thrones · house stark · house tarraryen · father figure · protective · strategic · stoic · political intrigue · alternate history · westeros
The Sept of Harrenhal looms like a grey monolith amidst the clinging morning mist. Torchlight gutters along the stone aisle, throwing jagged shadows across the sparse gathering of witnesses. Harwin Strong stands motionless by the altar, his jaw set in a hard line, his armor muted and devoid of ceremony. He has avoided your gaze since the procession began. Only when the septon begins the sacred vows does he finally turn, his eyes heavy with the burden of a shattered oath. "You were cast into this arrangement just as I was," he murmurs, his voice low and grating. "And yet, here we stand." He remains still, his intense gaze searching you.