Jocelyn woke slowly, the weight of sleep still clinging to her limbs. The room was warm, the fire in the hearth casting a golden glow against the stone walls. It took her a moment to remember where she was—to register the steady rise and fall of Robb's chest beneath her cheek, the feel of his arm draped protectively around her.

For a moment, she just breathed.

Jon was gone. The thought hit her again like a dull ache, but it wasn't as sharp as it had been the night before. It was softened by the warmth surrounding her, by the steady heartbeat beneath her ear, by the comforting presence of the man holding her close.

Robb stirred slightly, his fingers brushing lazily over her back. "You're awake." His voice was thick with sleep.

Jocelyn shifted, tilting her head to look up at him. "So are you."

He smiled sleepily, his blue eyes half-lidded as he studied her. "Did you rest?"

She nodded, though it wasn't quite the truth. Sleep had come, but it had been restless, full of fleeting dreams and lingering sadness.

Robb must have sensed her hesitation because he cupped her cheek gently, brushing a thumb over the curve of her jaw. "You don't have to pretend with me."

Jocelyn exhaled, leaning into his touch. "I miss him."

"I know," Robb murmured. "But you still have me."

Her throat tightened at the certainty in his words.

He shifted then, sitting up slightly so he could pull her into his lap. She didn't resist, allowing herself to be cradled against him, her legs tucked beneath his. Robb pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, then her temple, then her cheek, each one slow and deliberate.

"You don't have to carry everything on your own," he whispered against her skin.

Jocelyn closed her eyes, letting his words settle into her bones.

"I know," she murmured.

Robb's hands traced slow, soothing patterns along her spine, his lips brushing against her ear. "I'll take care of you, Jocelyn."

She let out a shaky breath, feeling a warmth spread through her that had nothing to do with the fire in the room.

She turned her head slightly, catching his mouth with hers.

It wasn't rushed or desperate—just them, wrapped in a moment that belonged only to them.

When they finally pulled apart, Robb tucked her hair behind her ear, resting his forehead against hers.

"We'll be alright," he promised.

Jocelyn nodded, letting herself believe him.

Maybe they would be.

The morning was crisp, the air carrying the scent of snow and woodsmoke as Jocelyn made her way through Winterfell's corridors. It had been weeks since Jon left, and though the ache of his absence hadn't fully faded, the warmth of Robb's presence made it easier to bear.

But today, she needed something different—something lighter.

She found Sansa and Arya in the courtyard, the contrast between them as stark as ever. Sansa, ever poised, was delicately stitching an embroidery hoop while Arya scowled at the practice dummy she had just knocked over with a wooden sword.

Jocelyn smiled as she approached. "I think that dummy has had enough, Arya."

Arya turned, grinning. "It better have. I've been practicing my footwork."

Sansa let out an exasperated sigh. "She calls it 'footwork,' I call it stomping around in the dirt."

Arya rolled her eyes. "At least I can fight."

Sansa huffed. "Ladies don't fight."

Arya smirked. "Good thing I don't want to be a lady."

Jocelyn laughed, shaking her head. "I don't think you'll ever agree on that."

"No," Sansa said with a dramatic sigh. "We won't."

"Wouldn't want to," Arya added proudly.

Jocelyn settled onto the stone bench beside Sansa, watching as Arya picked up her sword again and began swinging at the air. "You remind me of my cousin," she mused. "She never wanted to sit still either."

Arya perked up. "What happened to her?"

Jocelyn hesitated, thinking of the girl she once knew—so full of life before being married off to some distant nobleman, her spirit slowly dimming under the weight of duty.

"She was forced to be something she wasn't," Jocelyn said finally.

Arya's grip tightened on her sword. "That won't happen to me."

Jocelyn nodded. "No, I don't think it will."

Sansa glanced at her, tilting her head. "And what about you? Do you feel forced into something?"

Jocelyn considered the question. Once, the answer would have been an easy yes. But now…

She thought of Robb, of his unwavering support, his steady presence. He didn't make her feel like she had to be anything other than herself.

"No," she said softly. "Not anymore."

Sansa smiled, reaching out to squeeze Jocelyn's hand. "Good."

Before the moment could settle, Mira appeared, her arms folded, a teasing glint in her eyes. "I see you've been recruited by the Stark sisters."

Jocelyn smirked. "They make for good company."

Arya puffed out her chest. "The best company."

Mira rolled her eyes playfully before settling onto the bench beside Jocelyn. "I need to steal her away for a bit. Lady Catelyn has requested her help with something."

Jocelyn turned to Sansa and Arya. "It was good spending time with you."

Sansa smiled warmly. "You should join us more often."

Arya nodded eagerly. "Yes! Maybe I can teach you how to hold a sword properly."

Jocelyn laughed. "We'll see."

As she followed Mira through the corridors, she couldn't help but feel lighter.

She was finally starting to find her place.