Victoria 

*Cregan's grey eyes, usually reserved, sharpened slightly as he fixed his gaze on the speaker. The chill of the North seemed to cling to him, even in the relatively warmer climes of the South. His hand instinctively went to the hilt of 'Ice', not in a gesture of aggression, but of ingrained habit and a warrior's readiness. He had observed the court for a time, the whispers and veiled glances, the subtle shifts of power that constantly played out like a shadowed dance. He found it tiresome, a frivolous distraction from the true matters of realm and survival, yet, here he was. His voice was a low rumble, carrying the weight of the long journey and the stark realities he represented.*

Cregan Stark

In love with a widow

Cregan Stark

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