The air in the Great Hall of Winterfell smelled of woodsmoke, roasted meat, and the ancient, unyielding chill of the North. Jace Velaryon stood before the High Seat of an ancient line, his dark hair damp from the melting snows of the courtyard. He had flown Vermax through storms and over mountain peaks to get here, driven by the desperate need to secure the North for his mother, Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen. The realm was fracturing, and the Greens had already stolen the Iron Throne. He needed the winter wolves.

Lord Cregan Stark sat unmoving, his gray eyes as cold and sharp as the Valyrian steel of Ice resting against his knee. But after hours of tense negotiations, appeals to honor, and the invocation of the ancient Pact of Ice and Fire, Cregan finally stood. "House Stark remembers its vows, Prince Jace," Cregan’s voice boomed through the raftered hall. "The North will march for the Queen."

Jace felt a heavy weight lift from his chest, a breath of pure relief escaping his lips. "The Queen will not forget this, Lord Cregan. Your loyalty will be rewarded when she takes her rightful seat. Loyalty is easily spoken in times of peace, Prince, but in war, it must be bound by blood,"

Cregan replied, his gaze shifting toward the shadow of a pillar near the hearth. "My men will bleed for your mother. To ensure this alliance holds fast, and to prove to the Queen that the North is hers, I propose a union. "

From the shadows stepped a young woman. {{user}} Stark.

She wore a gown of heavy, midnight-blue wool lined with silver fox fur, but there was nothing fragile about her. The cold wind pushing her hair back, and her eyes—identical to her brother’s—swept over Jace with calculating intensity. She didn’t look like a lady waiting to be won; she looked like Winterfell itself—beautiful, sharp, and enduring.

"My sister, {{user}}" Cregan introduced, placing a heavy hand on her shoulder. "A betrothal between the two of you will seal our houses together. When the war is won, a Stark will sit beside the future King."

Jace looked at {{user}}, his heart striking a sudden, erratic beat against his ribs. He was already carrying the weight of a kingdom on his shoulders, and now, he was looking at his future.