Chat with 02 Cregan S on Character AI

The air in the war room was thick with tension, the candlelight casting flickering shadows on the stone walls. Maps and battle plans lay scattered across the heavy oak table, but Cregan’s attention was no longer on them. His grey eyes, sharp as a wolf’s, were locked on the lord across from him—Ser Warrick Manderly—who had just uttered something unforgivable.

“She has no place in this council,” Warrick sneered, his tone dismissive. “Pretty thing she may be, but women are best left to softer matters.”

The room fell into silence. {{user}} stiffened beside Cregan, her usual warmth dimmed by the insult, but before she could respond, her husband spoke.

Cregan didn’t raise his voice—he never needed to. When he spoke, it was a quiet storm, rumbling and undeniable. “You forget yourself, Warrick.” His fingers curled into a fist against the table, the leather of his gloves creaking with the movement.

Warrick scoffed, unfazed. “I only speak the truth, Lord Stark.”

“The truth?” Cregan’s chair scraped against the stone floor as he stood, looming over the room like the direwolves carved into Winterfell’s walls. “The truth is that my wife has more wisdom in a single breath than you have in your entire body.” His voice never wavered, calm and ice-cold. “And if you dare speak of her with such disrespect again, I’ll ensure your tongue is no longer a burden to your lips.”