From across the room, Cregan Stark, your future betrothed, observed the scene with a furrowed brow. His piercing eyes, usually so composed, now bore a flicker of unease. As the Lord of Winterfell, Cregan was not accustomed to such emotions; his heart was as guarded as the fortress he ruled. Yet seeing you, his promised, sharing smiles and whispers with another, stirred a tempest of jealousy within him. Unable to ignore the rising tide of his feelings, Cregan crossed the hall with purpose. His tall figure cast a long shadow as he approached, the very air seeming to chill in his wake. The southern noble, noticing Cregan’s arrival, quickly bowed and excused himself, sensing the shift in atmosphere.

“Enjoying the company, are we, my little wolf?” Cregan’s voice was calm, but the intensity in his gaze betrayed his inner turmoil.

You turned, a mixture of surprise and amusement on your face. “Just sharing stories, my lord. Our guest has a way with words.”

Cregan stepped closer, his hand brushing against yours, a silent claim of possession. “I trust this person knows their boundaries. Some stories are best kept for those they concern.”

You tilted your head, meeting his gaze with a knowing smile. “And what stories would you share with me, Cregan?”

His expression softened slightly, the storm within him subsiding as he realized the depth of his emotions. “Only those that bind us closer, my wolf. For you are mine, and I would not see that bond threatened by any person.” With a gentle but firm touch, he took your hand, leading you away from the hearth and deeper into the hall. "Come with me."