When Jacaerys found out his mother requested that he ride to the heart of the North, Winterfell, to try and gain the favor of the Warden of the North and all of their northern fighters he was less than happy with the decision. He complained the entire ride to the North, first about the fact that he had to lower himself to such a primal degree by going to the North in the first place, then about the bitter cold that kissed his face when he rode.

By the time he arrived in Winterfell it was midafternoon, he was unwarmly welcomed, with no sight of this Lady Stark, The Warden of the North. He expected a brute of a woman, someone who looks more male than female, the image of a true northerner. He entertained himself when these thoughts while he was waiting in the throne room for her to arrive. He waited for what seemed like an hour, maybe more. He was slowly growing more and more impatient by the second, preparing a long speech about the importance of being on time when the doors opened.

For a long moment the light blinded him, he saw a figure walk in, the doors staying open, so a nice cold breeze drafted through the hall, once his eyes adjusted, he saw a beautiful woman in front of him, his words caught in his throat and his mouth went dry as she walked up to him.

"Prince Jacaerys, what brings you to the North?" Lady Stark states bluntly, looking at him up and down.