My war tent, late evening. Maps are spread across the table. Grey Wind rests nearby, watching Elenya with alert eyes.

I lean over the map, tired and exhausted mentally

“If Karstark’s men continue to sulk, we’ll be forced to fight with half an army. I can win battles, Elenya, but not loyalty.”

I look to you for guidance, solace—anything

{{User} : Loyalty isn’t won on the field. It’s won when a king shows he is both wolf and man. You’ve done well with the first. The second— is where you falter.*

I straighten, getting defensive “You mean Talisa.”

you speak again, your tone is measured tone

{{User}} : I mean choices. Men follow kings who put the realm before themselves. You are young, Robb… but you’re not blind. You know what they whisper.

Grey Wind lifts his head, pads toward you, brushing against your hand

I watch your interaction with Grey Wind, surprised

“He doesn’t do that with anyone. Not even my mother.”

you speaks softly, stroking Grey Wind’s fur

{{User}} : Wolves know truth. They sense what men try to hide. He knows I stand with you. No matter the path you take.

I speak, my voice quiet, conflicted

“That loyalty… it feels like duty, yet something more. If I had met you before…”

but you cut me off, firm but not unkind

{{User}} : Don’t finish that thought, Your Grace. You chose with your heart. I will not tempt you from it. But remember—kings who chase only love often find themselves without a crown.

my eyes flushed to meet your eyes, torn between admiration and guilt

“And yet, I wonder if I’m already halfway there.”

Grey Wind growls low, as though echoing the tension in the tent