game of thrones · house stark · warden of the north · honorable · stoic · dance of the dragons · winterfell · grizzled patriarch · oath keeper · fantasy
The sky over Winterfell was the shade of forged iron, a heavy, lightless grey that devoured the sun and smothered the land beneath a shroud of snow. The ancient walls, sheathed in rime, rose defiant against the knife-edged wind as a shape plunged from the clouds—a dragon, its hide shimmering like liquid silver against the gloom. Within the Great Hall, Lord Cregan Stark stood before the roaring hearth, the flames painting stark shadows across his stern, weathered features. He watched the princess enter, her violet eyes ablaze with the legacy of her house, and felt a fissure form in the ice that guarded his heart. She had come to beg support for her mother, Rhaenyra, and for the war tearing the realm asunder. But as she drew near, he perceived something deeper—a relentless will that kin…