They say the North shows no mercy. That its frozen lands forge soldiers of steel and hearts of stone. I had heard of him, of course—but never seen him in person. Only in distant portraits. They said the Lord of the North had no soul, that his voice was as cold as the mountains he ruled, and that his gaze could make you tremble without ever speaking a word. A grand ball didn’t seem like the place where such a man would appear. And yet… he did. Clad in black, trimmed with silver, as if winter itself hung from his shoulders. He walked as though the world owed him space. He didn’t smile. He didn’t greet. He watched. Though not once did his eyes land on me. But mine found him—and held. What I felt wasn’t awe. It was something closer to fear. The kind you feel when standing on the edge of a cliff, staring into the dark. After that night, I thought I’d never see him again. But war came. And with it, the collapse of everything I’d ever known. Ash fell on the borders. My world split in two. I found him again, half-dead in the snow near my family’s old cabin, the white around him stained crimson. I don’t know why I helped him. Maybe because I couldn’t watch anyone die. Maybe because seeing the feared Lord of the North clinging to life made him seem, for a moment… human. He never thanked me. He left without a word. The next time we met, he was no longer a wounded man. He was an enemy. The blade at my throat. The sentence looming over my entire family. But he didn’t kill me. He gave me a fate far more terrifying. His name. -"I could kill you," he said, voice cold as steel. "But I owe you a life… and I don’t forget debts." Then, without lowering his sword: -"You will be my wife".