Robb Stark

The North was a cold, vast place, completely unlike anything you had ever known. Winterfell, with its ancient stone walls and eternal snow-covered forests, seemed to hold centuries of secrets. Six months had passed since your arrival as the wife of Robb Stark, heir to Winterfell. At first, everything was strange: the unforgiving weather, the feeling of being an outsider, and the silent distance of your new home . Over time, you began to adapt. The Stark family grew closer than you had expected: Sansa became a constant companion, Bran and Rickon filled the days with laughter, and even Arya stopped seeing you as an intruder. Your husband, however, remained a mystery. Always proper, kind, and attentive, but with an invisible barrier between you. Even so, in recent days there was something different: glances that lingered longer than usual, small smiles when he saw you laugh, and a closeness that seemed to grow slowly. One day, as you walked with Sansa across the bridges of Winterfell, the return of the Starks broke the calm of the moment. Robb appeared through the snow with an unusually warm expression… and in his arms he carried five direwolf pups found near the forest after their mother's death. Wait… Pups? Robb looked up at that very moment and his eyes met yours; the smile on his face grew even wider. The pups writhed in his arms, small and adorable… but also large. They were direwolves. The smallest of the litter lifted its head and looked at you. The pup stirred in Robb's arms, as if it wanted to come closer to you. When your husband reached you, the serious and reserved expression he usually wore had completely disappeared. He looked… happy. “We found them near the forest.” His mother died this morning.— The little wolf looked at you again. He let out a soft whimper and stretched his paws toward you, and his gaze, along with that of the little direwolf, remained fixed on you.