The cabin was cloaked in silence, save for the occasional howl of the wind and the crackle of the hearth. Jocelyn sat by the small window, her breath fogging the glass as she peered out into the snowy forest. The direwolves, Ghost and Grey Wind, stood vigilant, their ears twitching at every distant sound. She had no idea how long it had been since Jon and Robb had left her here, but the weight of waiting was unbearable.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp knock at the door. Jocelyn froze, her heart leaping into her throat as she looked toward the wolves. Grey Wind immediately moved to the door, his golden eyes narrowing as a low growl rumbled from his throat. Ghost followed, his white fur bristling as he stood beside his brother, his crimson gaze locked on the door.
"Who's there?" Jocelyn called, her voice trembling despite her effort to sound calm.
"It's me," came Jon's voice, muffled by the wood. "Open up."
Relief flooded her chest as she hurried to unbolt the door. Jon slipped inside, his dark cloak dusted with snow, his face flushed from the cold. Behind him, Robb followed, his expression grim.
"You shouldn't scare me like that," Jocelyn said, trying to mask her nerves.
"Sorry," Jon said, his voice soft but tense. "We didn't have time to send word ahead."
"What's happened?" Jocelyn asked, her eyes darting between them.
Robb removed his gloves, shaking snow from his hair. "They're asking questions. A lot of them. Your father isn't convinced by the story we gave him, and Jaime…" He trailed off, his jaw tightening. "Jaime's too smart for his own good."
"He suspects something," Jon added. "He hasn't said it outright, but he's circling the truth."
Jocelyn sank into the nearest chair, her hands gripping the arms tightly. "What are we going to do? If they find out I'm alive—"
"They won't," Robb interrupted, his tone firm. "We won't let that happen."
Jon stepped closer, his gray eyes steady as he crouched beside her. "You need to stay here, no matter what. Don't come back to Winterfell, don't leave this cabin. The wolves will keep you safe, and we'll handle the rest."
Jocelyn nodded, though her fear was palpable. "And what if they don't believe you? What if they decide to search the woods?"
"They won't," Robb said, his voice confident. "Your father is focused on the people at Winterfell. He's interrogating anyone who might have been involved in your supposed journey south. Jaime, meanwhile, is too busy trying to intimidate my father."
"But they'll eventually demand proof," Jocelyn said quietly. "And when they don't find my body—"
"We're ahead of them on that," Jon said. "My father and Maester Luwin have sent riders to a ravine near the Kingsroad. They'll leave signs of a recent collapse—enough to make it look like the accident destroyed any trace of you."
"It's risky," Robb admitted, "but it's the only way to buy us time."
Jocelyn's breath hitched as she processed their words. Her fate, it seemed, rested entirely on the shoulders of the Starks. If their plan failed, the consequences would be catastrophic—not just for her, but for Winterfell as a whole.
"Why are you doing this for me?" she asked suddenly, her voice breaking. "I'm not your family. I'm not even one of your people."
Robb and Jon exchanged a glance before Robb spoke. "Because it's the right thing to do. You were thrown into a life you didn't choose, treated like a prize to be won. No one deserves that."
"And because we care about you," Jon added, his voice softer. "You've been through enough, Jocelyn. You deserve a chance to live your own life."
Jocelyn's eyes filled with tears, but she quickly wiped them away, refusing to let herself break. "Thank you," she whispered. "Both of you."
Robb placed a hand on her shoulder, his touch steadying. "We'll get through this. Just stay hidden, and trust us."
As the brothers prepared to leave, Jocelyn moved to the door, watching as they stepped out into the snow. The direwolves followed, standing sentinel at her side.
"Be careful," she called after them.
Jon turned back, his gaze lingering on her. "You too."
As they disappeared into the forest, Jocelyn closed the door, leaning her back against it as her heart raced. The wolves padded to her side, their watchful eyes a reminder that she was never truly alone.
For now, she was safe. But with Jaime Lannister and her father so close, Jocelyn knew it was only a matter of time before the storm came crashing down.
Winterfell buzzed with tension. The Lannisters were a dangerous presence, their crimson banners flaring against the icy winds, an unwelcome splash of blood in the stark white of the North. Jaime Lannister prowled the castle like a predator, his sharp eyes missing nothing, his smirk an ever-present mask. Beside him, Lord Thaddeus Everfair radiated impatience, his grief manifesting as cold anger as he demanded answers.
Eddard Stark met their inquiries with his usual calm authority, but behind his measured words lay a wolf's vigilance. Every question Jaime posed, every demand from Lord Thaddeus, was met with an answer so precise it left no room for doubt—or so they hoped.
In the Great Hall
Jaime lounged in a chair near the fire, swirling a goblet of wine as he addressed Eddard. His golden hair caught the firelight, giving him an almost ethereal quality that contrasted sharply with the steel in his eyes.
"Forgive my persistence, Lord Stark," Jaime said, his tone smooth but laced with menace. "But don't you find it odd that no one has seen Lady Jocelyn's body? A ravine collapse, wolves scavenging—convenient explanations, but unsatisfying."
"The North is unforgiving," Eddard replied evenly. "Your men are welcome to see the site themselves, though I warn you, the terrain is treacherous."
Jaime's smirk widened. "How generous of you. Perhaps I will."
Lord Thaddeus, seated stiffly beside Jaime, spoke up, his voice icy. "My daughter deserved better than to be left to the wild. You had a duty to protect her, Lord Stark. And yet here we are—her body lost, her legacy tarnished."
Eddard's jaw tightened, but he maintained his composure. "I grieve for your loss, Lord Everfair. Jocelyn was a kind and intelligent woman. Her death was a tragedy, but one beyond our control. Winterfell mourns with you."
Thaddeus scoffed, his gray eyes narrowing. "Grief won't bring her back. Answers might."
Jaime's gaze shifted to Robb and Jon, who stood nearby, silent and watchful. "What about you two? You were close to Jocelyn, weren't you? Surely you have more to say about her last days."
Robb stepped forward, his expression calm but resolute. "Jocelyn was a guest of Winterfell, and we treated her as such. She was eager to learn about the North, curious about our ways. We did everything we could to ensure her safety."
"Everything," Jaime echoed, his smirk fading. "And yet, here we are."
Jon's gray eyes locked with Jaime's, unflinching. "What happened was an accident. No one could have foreseen it."
Jaime studied him for a moment, his smirk returning. "You're awfully defensive, Snow. Guilt weighing on you?"
"Enough," Eddard said sharply, his voice cutting through the tension. "You came for answers, Ser Jaime, and we've given them. If you doubt my word, feel free to investigate further. But you'll find nothing that contradicts what you've been told."
Jaime raised his goblet in mock salute. "I'll take you up on that, Lord Stark. The truth has a way of revealing itself, after all."
In the Woods
Jocelyn paced the cabin, her nerves fraying with each passing hour. The direwolves sat near the door, their ears twitching at every distant sound. She had tried to distract herself—reading, stoking the fire—but her mind kept returning to Winterfell, to her father and Jaime, to the danger they posed.
A sudden howl echoed through the forest, low and mournful. Jocelyn froze, her heart pounding as she looked toward the wolves. Grey Wind and Ghost immediately stood, their hackles rising as they moved toward the door.
"What is it?" Jocelyn whispered, her voice trembling.
The door creaked open, and Robb stepped inside, his breath visible in the cold air. Jon followed closely behind, his expression grim.
"They're pushing harder," Robb said without preamble. "Jaime's planning to inspect the ravine himself."
"What does that mean for me?" Jocelyn asked, her voice tight.
"It means we need to be ready for anything," Jon replied. "The site has been staged, but if Jaime's as sharp as he seems, he might find something that doesn't add up."
Jocelyn sat down heavily, her hands trembling. "If he finds out I'm alive—"
"He won't," Robb said firmly. "We won't let that happen."
"But what if he does?" she pressed. "What if this all falls apart?"
Jon knelt in front of her, his gray eyes steady. "Then we'll deal with it. Together."
The direwolves growled softly, their gaze fixed on the door. Jocelyn shivered, the weight of their loyalty and the Starks' resolve settling over her like a fragile shield. The wolves were circling, but so were the lions—and in the clash of predators, she could only hope the pack would hold.
The storm was far from over, and the final battle for her freedom had only just begun.