The snow fell in soft, swirling patterns outside Winterfell's walls, coating the courtyard in a fresh blanket of white. The cold was sharp, biting, but inside Robb's chambers, Jocelyn felt nothing but warmth.

She sat by the fire, wrapped in a thick fur cloak, watching as the flames danced before her. The crackling of the logs filled the silence, but her mind was restless.

Something felt… off.

She didn't know why, but unease curled in her stomach, an instinct she couldn't shake. Maybe it was the weight of everything that had happened—the secrets, the lies, the stolen moments with Robb that felt too good to be true.

Or maybe it was because a part of her knew that peace never lasted.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

She turned to see Robb leaning against the doorway, arms crossed over his broad chest. His auburn curls were damp from the snow, his blue eyes fixed on her with a mixture of amusement and concern.

Jocelyn managed a small smile. "I was just thinking about how quiet things have been."

Robb raised an eyebrow. "That's usually a good thing."

"Usually," she agreed, but the doubt lingered in her voice.

Robb stepped forward, his boots muffled against the thick rug as he crossed the room and sat beside her. He took her hand, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in slow, deliberate circles. "Tell me what's wrong."

She sighed, leaning into him. "I don't know. Maybe I'm just not used to being… happy."

Robb tilted her chin up so she had to meet his gaze. "You deserve to be happy, Jocelyn."

She swallowed hard. "But how long can this last? How long before someone comes looking for me?"

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he studied her, as if memorizing every detail of her face, before finally saying, "As long as I'm alive, I will protect you."

Her breath caught. He said it with such certainty, such unwavering devotion, that it made her chest ache.

"I don't want you to have to fight for me, Robb," she whispered.

Robb cupped her cheek, his fingers warm against her skin. "I'd fight a thousand battles if it meant keeping you safe."

Jocelyn leaned forward, pressing her lips to his in a slow, lingering kiss. She poured every emotion into it—her gratitude, her fear, her love.

Because she did love him.

And that terrified her more than anything.

She pulled back just enough to rest her forehead against his. "I love you, Robb."

His breath hitched, his hands tightening around her waist. "Say it again."

She smiled. "I love you."

Robb let out a soft, almost disbelieving chuckle before pressing another kiss to her lips. "And I love you, Jocelyn Everfair."

She wished she could freeze this moment, hold onto it forever.

Because deep down, she knew—something was coming.

And she wasn't sure if even Robb Stark could stop it.

Jocelyn woke to the feeling of warmth, of strong arms wrapped around her, holding her close. Robb's slow, steady breaths tickled the back of her neck, his chest rising and falling in a peaceful rhythm.

For the first time in a long while, she felt safe.

She lay there for a moment, basking in the quiet of the early morning. Outside, the wind howled through Winterfell's towers, but inside the chamber, it was nothing but soft candlelight and the steady beat of Robb's heart against her back.

Still, the unease from the night before hadn't left her.

She turned carefully in his embrace, wanting to see his face. His curls were messily sprawled over the pillow, his features relaxed in sleep. He looked so different like this—unguarded, at peace.

She reached up, tracing a gentle finger down the bridge of his nose.

"Mmm," he grumbled, a slow smile creeping onto his lips before his eyes even opened. "That's not fair. You wake up before me and start touching me like that?"

Jocelyn chuckled softly. "I was just admiring you."

His blue eyes finally cracked open, lazy and full of warmth. "Then by all means, continue."

She rolled her eyes playfully, but before she could pull away, Robb tightened his grip, flipping her onto her back beneath him. She let out a surprised gasp as he hovered over her, his weight pressing her into the furs.

"You're not sneaking away from me that easily," he murmured, brushing his nose against hers.

Jocelyn smiled, looping her arms around his neck. "Who said I was sneaking away?"

Robb hummed, his fingers tracing patterns on her bare shoulder. "I know that look. Something's on your mind."

She hesitated. It felt silly to voice her worries when, for the first time in weeks, she was happy. But Robb had always seen through her.

"It's just a feeling," she admitted. "Like something is coming. Something bad."

Robb studied her for a moment before sighing, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Winterfell is safe. No one can touch you here."

She wanted to believe that.

He kissed her again—slow, lingering, as if trying to chase away her fears. And for a little while, she let him.

But the unease didn't fade.

⸻

Later That Day – The Great Hall

Jocelyn sat with Sansa near the fire, both of them sewing, though Jocelyn was hardly as skilled as her. Arya was across the room, sparring with Bran using wooden swords, much to Sansa's dismay.

"You're getting better," Sansa said encouragingly, nodding at Jocelyn's embroidery.

Jocelyn laughed, setting the needle down. "That's kind of you to say, but we both know this looks like a disaster."

Sansa smiled. "At least you're trying."

Before Jocelyn could respond, the doors to the hall swung open, and a steward rushed in, looking breathless.

"My lord," he called, turning toward Ned Stark, who had been speaking with Maester Luwin. "A raven has arrived."

Jocelyn felt her stomach tighten.

Lord Stark took the letter, his expression unreadable as he broke the wax seal and scanned the contents. A heavy silence settled over the hall as they all waited.

Finally, he exhaled sharply and looked up.

"We have visitors coming," he announced. His gaze flickered briefly to Jocelyn before settling on Robb. "Lord Everfair and Ser Jaime Lannister are on their way to Winterfell."

Jocelyn's breath caught.

The room seemed to blur around her as the words sank in.

They knew.

They were coming for her.

Robb was already moving, standing from his seat with a sharp expression. "When?"

"A few days at most," Ned answered.

Jocelyn's pulse pounded in her ears. She looked at Robb, at the way his jaw clenched and his hands curled into fists.

She had known peace wouldn't last.

And now, the storm had arrived.