The halls of Winterfell were quiet as the evening settled over the castle. Most of the household had retired early, the bitter cold making warm fires and thick blankets far more appealing than wandering the drafty corridors. But Jocelyn wasn't heading to her chambers.

She was going to Robb.

Her heart pounded with anticipation as she made her way to his room, her fingers brushing over the fabric of her cloak, her mind racing with thoughts of what this night might bring. They had stolen moments before—soft kisses in empty halls, whispered words when no one was listening—but tonight, for the first time, there was no rush. No fear.

Just them.

She knocked once before the door opened, revealing Robb standing there, his hair slightly tousled, his blue eyes warm as they settled on her.

"You're here," he murmured, stepping aside to let her in.

Jocelyn smiled, slipping inside. The room was lit only by the fire, casting flickering shadows against the stone walls. It felt intimate, safe.

Robb closed the door behind her, then reached for her hand, pulling her toward him. "You've been on my mind all day."

She felt a shiver—not from the cold, but from the way he was looking at her. "Good things, I hope?"

Robb chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Very good things."

He kissed her then, slow and deep, his hands warm as they framed her face. Jocelyn melted into him, gripping his tunic as she pulled him closer. Every touch, every lingering press of his lips against hers, sent heat curling through her.

Robb pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against hers. "Stay with me tonight," he whispered.

Jocelyn swallowed, her fingers tightening against his chest. "Are you sure?"

He chuckled, brushing a soft kiss against her cheek. "I've never been more sure of anything."

She exhaled, letting herself relax into him. "Then I'll stay."

Robb smiled, his hands moving to her waist as he guided her toward the bed. There was no urgency, no rush—only a shared understanding, a quiet devotion that neither of them needed to put into words.

As the flickering candles danced across the walls, casting shadows that seemed to writhe and twist like living things, Jocelyn and Robb found themselves ensnared in a passion that would not be satiated. The air was heavy with the scent of smoke and sweat, the very atmosphere thick with the promise of forbidden delight.

With a gentle touch, Robb guided Jocelyn to the bed, his hands tracing the curves of her body like a king claiming his dominion. Her skin, pale as the moon, seemed to glow in the dim light, and Robb's desire for her burned hotter than the fiercest dragonfire. He pressed his lips to her throat, his tongue tracing the delicate lines of her neck, and Jocelyn's eyes fluttered closed, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

As he kissed his way down her body, Robb's hands roamed free, claiming every inch of her as his own. His fingers danced across her skin, leaving trails of fire in their wake, and Jocelyn's moans grew louder, a symphony of pleasure that echoed through the chamber. And when he finally reached the secret place between her thighs, Robb's mouth descended, his lips and tongue weaving a spell of pure ecstasy.

Jocelyn's body arched, her hips rising to meet Robb's mouth, as he feasted on her like a starving man at a banquet. The sound of her pleasure grew louder, a crescendo of gasps and moans, until finally, she reached the pinnacle of delight. Her body convulsed, a shuddering release that seemed to shake the very foundations of the castle, and Robb felt the warm gush of her pleasure, a fountain of liquid fire that anointed him like a king.

And yet, even as Jocelyn's tremors subsided, Robb's desire remained, a burning flame that would not be quenched. He rose, his body towering over hers, his eyes blazing with a hunger that would not be satiated. With a gentle touch, he guided Jocelyn's legs apart, his fingers tracing the curves of her thighs, and then, with a slow, deliberate thrust, he entered her, his body claiming hers like a conqueror claiming his spoils.

The sound of their lovemaking filled the chamber, a rhythmic pounding that seemed to echo through the halls, as Robb drove into Jocelyn, his body seeking the ultimate release. And when it came, his climax was like a storm, a torrent of pleasure that seemed to shake the very foundations of the earth.

He felt himself pouring into her, his seed spilling deep within her womb, and Jocelyn's body seemed to drink him in, a vessel of pure delight.

As the last tremors of their passion subsided, Robb lay beside Jocelyn, his body spent, his heart still racing with the aftermath of their lovemaking. The candles, once again, cast their gentle glow, and the shadows on the walls seemed to whisper secrets, of a passion that would not be forgotten, of a love that would endure, no matter the cost.

...

They spent the night tangled together, wrapped in warmth and whispered confessions. Robb traced lazy circles against her skin, pressing kisses to her shoulder, her jaw, the corner of her mouth.

Jocelyn had never felt so wanted. So cherished.

And as she drifted off in his arms, she realized something with absolute certainty:

She loved him.

And maybe, just maybe, this was the beginning of something real.