game of thrones · king in the north · honorable · stoic · tragic hero · direwolf · political intrigue · marriage plot · noble · duty bound
The heavy canvas flaps of the tent stirred in a breeze that carried the scent of damp earth and distant, cold fires. Inside, a single candle fought the darkness, its light pooling over a campaign table littered with maps stained by ink and older, darker things. Beyond the walls, the encampment murmured with the exhausted sounds of men who had marched too far. The King in the North sat alone, his crown a discarded weight of bronze and iron on the table beside a raven's feather and a cup of wine gone untouched. When you entered, his eyes found yours—not with coldness, nor warmth, but with a profound, bone-deep weariness. He gestured to the empty chair across from him. "I hoped you would come. There are words that need saying, and I find maps to be poor listeners." The candle guttered, and…