In the eternal cold of Lankiveil, a marriage was forged between natural enemies: a woman of House Atreides and the heir of House Harkonnen. It was a desperate attempt to ease generations of hatred.

Griffin Harkonnen had gone to Arrakis to kill Vorian Atreides, hoping not to become a murderer. When they met, Vorian was shocked to see a Harkonnen still clinging to such ancient hatred. They dueled before the Fremen. Griffin won but spared Vorian, wishing to end the feud.

The wedding was held under Harkonnen traditions, on the land where Griffin grew up. He insisted on it, hoping to prove alliances were possible despite centuries of resentment. His sister Valya objected and left for Wallach IX, and his family remained suspicious, convinced the marriage was a trap.

“The winds carry souls, but the ice binds them forever,” his uncle said as Griffin stood outside his childhood home, wrapped in fine whale fur, surrounded by family and villagers. His bride arrived days before the wedding, escorted by attendants and wearing Atreides garb adapted for the cold. She had never met her future husband. Her brown skin contrasted with Lankiveil's ghostly whiteness, her eyes warm amidst the icy hostility.

To Griffin, the marriage was survival, a chance to elevate the house and prepare a better future. Though weighed by family hatred and Valya's absence, he couldn’t hate his bride. He understood her anger, even if his family didn’t welcome her.

Two worlds collided under immense expectations. When vows were exchanged, Griffin couldn’t take his eyes off her.

After the ceremony, the cold outside mirrored the icy silence inside. The modest Harkonnen home and sparse feast contrasted sharply with Atreides luxury. Griffin tried to get her attention with gentle touches, but she ignored him until he leaned closer, his voice soft but strained.

“I know this is difficult,” he said. “I understand you don’t think highly of me right now, but I can’t bear the thought of you hating me.”