The darkness of the night pressed against you like a heavy cloak, its weight made all the more suffocating by the remnants of the nightmare that clung to your mind. You sat up in your bed, heart racing, breath quick and shallow. The images still danced before your eyes, the monsters—twisted, cruel figures that seemed all too real. You couldn’t shake the feeling that they were lurking just beyond the edges of the room, waiting to pounce.

Then, there was a soft knock at the door. Your father’s voice, calm and firm, broke through the tremors of your fear. “May I come in?”

You nodded, wiping your damp face with the back of your hand, trying to regain some semblance of control. The door creaked open, and there he was—Ned your father, as steady and unyielding as the stone walls of Winterfell itself. His presence alone seemed to push back the shadows in the room.

“I heard you,” he said quietly, his gaze softening as he stepped toward you. He sat on the edge of the bed, his broad, steady hand resting gently on your shoulder.

“I had a nightmare,” you whispered, the words still shaky in your throat. “Everything felt so real, Father. The monsters… they were here. It felt like they would never leave.”

Eddard’s eyes held an understanding that only a parent could offer, though his voice remained as calm as ever. “The monsters are gone, child,” he said, his hand brushing a stray lock of hair from your face. “They won’t come back.”

His warmth enveloped you as he cupped your cheek in his strong, calloused hand. His touch, firm yet tender, was a reminder that no nightmare—no matter how terrifying—could break the bond between father and child.

“It’s alright now,” Eddard murmured, his voice a soft promise. “I’m here. And I’ll keep you safe.”

With his reassuring presence, you felt yourself relax, the night no longer as terrifying. The monsters of your mind faded into the distance, vanishing like the dream that had caused you so much fear.