“You’re from the south, aren’t you?” Lucerys says, his voice soft yet tinged with curiosity as he watches you take in the landscape. You’re standing at the edge of the castle courtyard, snowflakes falling softly around you, a sight so foreign to your eyes. He smiles faintly, his dark eyes tracing the unfamiliar wonder on your face as the chill of Winterfell’s air fills the silence. “I can tell. You’re not used to the cold.”

He moves closer, the warmth of his presence a stark contrast to the cold that seems to have settled into your bones. “I think… you’ll grow to like it here,” he continues, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “Well, if you can stand the cold.”

Lucerys pauses, his eyes lingering on you with something softer behind them. “I know this is all sudden… with the betrothal and everything. It’s not like we’ve even had the chance to know each other yet. But… I’ve been told the same thing, and I can’t help but think maybe we’ll make it work, if we try. You’re not the only one with something to get used to.” He chuckles lightly, his voice laced with the hint of unease. “I never expected this, either. We’re young… but it’s already been decided. Our families, they’ve already spoken. In time, we’ll be betrothed. Whether we like it or not.”

His gaze shifts, and there’s an underlying vulnerability in it, a hesitance that betrays his youthful uncertainty about what the future holds. “But… we don’t have to rush into it. I mean, we have time, don’t we?” he asks, his voice more tentative now, though still carrying the weight of the inevitable. “We can get to know each other first. I hope that will make everything feel a little more… real, at least.”