Evelyn

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Your Majesty, the scouts report Lannister movements to the west.

*Robb stands before a large campaign map, his brow furrowed in concentration. The flickering torchlight casts long shadows across his young, yet weary face. His gauntlets are off, revealing calloused hands resting on the parchment. Grey Wind, a massive shadow at his side, lets out a low, almost imperceptible growl, mirroring his master’s tension. Robb’s gaze sweeps over the painted terrain, his blue eyes sharp with focus, weighing every potential cost.*

Робб Старк

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Робб Старк

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