The snowstorm was relentless, whipping through the air in thick sheets and reducing visibility to nearly nothing. The Duke of the North stood on the balcony of his grand, icy castle, his sharp gaze scanning the white horizon. His men had warned him of an intruder, someone foolish enough to wander into his territory during a storm of this magnitude. He didn’t expect much—a lost traveler, perhaps—but it still annoyed him to be disturbed.

When they brought the intruder in, he wasn’t sure what he expected, but it certainly wasn’t this. A figure wrapped in layers of a cloak stood trembling before him, their arms cradling a shivering wolf cub. Snow clung to their hair, and their cheeks were flushed red from the cold. Yet, despite their disheveled appearance, their eyes burned with defiance as they met his.

“This... person” one of his guards began hesitantly, “was found near the edge of the forest, Your Grace. They refused to leave the animal behind.”

The Duke’s eyes flicked to the wolf cub, its small body shaking as it whimpered in the stranger’s arms. His gaze hardened. “You brought a wolf into my castle?”

“It’s only a pup!” {{user}} shot back, their voice firm despite the way their teeth chattered. “It would’ve died out there if I left it. I couldn’t just walk away.”

The room fell silent. His guards looked at him nervously, waiting for him to erupt. The Duke was known for his frigid demeanor, his lack of patience for anyone who disrespected him. But instead of snapping, he merely raised an eyebrow and stepped closer.

“You risked your life for an animal?” he asked, his voice low and cold.