The days passed slowly, but they passed. Jocelyn spent most of her time in the south wing, carefully navigating her return to life at Winterfell. It was still a game of secrecy—avoiding certain halls, stepping aside when she heard unfamiliar voices—but for the first time in weeks, she was starting to feel like a person again, not a ghost hiding in the walls.

But even as she adjusted, she realized something unsettling: she didn't know who she was outside of survival.

She had spent her entire life being shaped into what others expected—a lady, a bargaining piece, a future Lannister wife. She had mastered the art of perfect posture, of measured words, of being seen but not heard. Now, in the quiet halls of Winterfell, those expectations had faded, leaving her with only herself. And she wasn't sure who that was.

One afternoon, as she sat in her chambers, Mira helped braid her hair by the fire. The warmth filled the room, making it feel safe, even as Jocelyn wrestled with her thoughts.

"You've been quiet lately," Mira remarked as she wove strands of auburn through her fingers. "More than usual."

Jocelyn exhaled. "I've just been thinking."

"About?"

Jocelyn hesitated, then said, "I don't know who I am."

Mira paused, her fingers stilling. "What do you mean?"

"I mean…" Jocelyn searched for the right words. "I've spent my whole life being told what to be. A lady. A wife. Someone valuable because of what she can offer, not because of who she is." She glanced at Mira. "I don't know who I am when no one is telling me what to do."

Mira resumed braiding, her voice thoughtful. "Maybe that's the best part."

Jocelyn frowned. "What do you mean?"

Mira smiled softly. "You're not being told who to be anymore. You get to decide. That's terrifying, I know. But it's also… freeing."

Jocelyn let that sink in. She had spent so long fearing the unknown, the uncertainty of her choices, that she hadn't considered the possibility that she was free. That for the first time in her life, she could decide who she wanted to be.

She thought about her time at Winterfell—the quiet moments in the godswood, the simple meals with Robb, the way Jon had looked at her like she was more than just a woman in hiding. These were things she had never been allowed before. Conversations without expectations. Friendships without obligation.

And now, she had choices.

"I don't know where to start," she admitted.

Mira finished the braid and rested a gentle hand on her shoulder. "Start small," she said. "Find something that's yours. Not something given to you, not something expected. Something that belongs only to you."

Jocelyn nodded slowly, turning Mira's words over in her mind.

That Evening: The Armory

The decision to visit the armory wasn't planned. Jocelyn had simply been wandering when she found herself near the forge, drawn in by the rhythmic clang of metal against metal. The air smelled of iron and smoke, and the heat from the forge was a stark contrast to the Northern chill.

She had never been allowed in places like this before. Proper ladies didn't linger around weapons, didn't concern themselves with the art of war. But as she stepped further inside, something about it felt right.

She ran her fingers lightly over the hilt of a training sword, surprised by its weight.

"Looking for something?"

Jocelyn spun to find Jon standing in the doorway, his arms crossed. His expression wasn't judgmental—just curious.

She hesitated before answering. "I… don't know."

Jon stepped closer, glancing at the sword she had touched. "Ever held one before?"

Jocelyn shook her head. "No. I was never allowed."

Jon studied her for a moment, then, without a word, picked up the training sword and held it out to her.

She hesitated, then slowly reached for it. The moment her fingers wrapped around the hilt, a strange sense of satisfaction settled in her chest. It wasn't comfortable, not yet, but it wasn't foreign either.

Jon watched her carefully. "You want to learn?"

Jocelyn met his gaze, something new stirring inside her. She didn't know why, but the answer came easily.

"Yes."

Jon nodded, stepping back. "Then let's start."

For the first time in her life, Jocelyn was learning something not because she had to, but because she wanted to. And maybe, just maybe, that was the first step to becoming who she was meant to be.