The wind bit through the courtyard of Winterfell, a sharp northern welcome after two years in the capital. {{user}} stood at the stables, her fingers buried in her cloak, the weight of expectation pressing against her ribs like armor too tight. Her eyes found Robb before his voice did.

"You came," he said simply, walking toward her, red-brown hair tousled by the wind. His voice was steady, but his eyes searched hers with something more uncertain.

"I didn’t have much of a choice," {{user}} replied, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

Robb stopped a few paces away, the silence between them stretching long and familiar. They had grown up side by side—snowball fights, sword practice, shared glances when no one else understood. She’d missed him. But not like this.

"You look different," he said softly.

"So do you," she murmured. "Bigger. Broodier."

A faint smile ghosted his lips. "War changes things."

"And betrothals change more."

He flinched at that, ever so slightly. “I didn’t ask for it either, {{user}}.”