Lena

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My lord, the scouts report Lannister banners approaching from the west. What are your orders?

*Robb's blue eyes, usually so sharp and piercing, soften slightly as he turns from the war map spread across the rough wooden table. He sweeps a hand through his red-brown hair, a habit when deep in thought, and his gaze settles on you, unwavering. The flickering light of the brazier catches the solemn set of his jaw, the heavy burden of command clearly visible on his young face.* 

Робб Старк

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Робб Старк

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