The wind howled through the godswood as Jocelyn wandered beneath the ancient trees, her cloak pulled tightly around her shoulders. The weirwood loomed ahead, its carved face solemn, red sap trickling down like tears of blood. She had come here seeking clarity, but her thoughts remained as turbulent as the storm clouds gathering on the horizon.
The North had ensnared her in ways she hadn't expected. The raw beauty of Winterfell, the Starks' unyielding loyalty, and the quiet strength she saw in both Robb and Jon—it all felt like a world apart from the polished façades and political games of the South. For the first time in her life, Jocelyn felt like she belonged somewhere. But was that enough to defy her duty?
She knelt before the heart tree, her breath visible in the cold air. "If the gods truly listen here," she whispered, "tell me what to do. Do I follow my heart or my duty?"
The silence that followed was deafening, broken only by the crunch of snow behind her. She turned to see Jon Snow approaching, his dark cloak blending into the shadows of the forest. His steps were careful, as though he didn't want to disturb her.
"I didn't mean to intrude," he said softly, stopping a few paces away.
"You're not," Jocelyn replied, her voice barely above a whisper. She rose slowly, brushing the snow from her skirts. "I came here looking for answers."
Jon nodded, his gray eyes fixed on hers. "And did you find any?"
Jocelyn hesitated, then shook her head. "No. I feel… lost. Torn between two worlds."
Jon stepped closer, his presence steady and grounding. "It's not an easy choice. But whatever you decide, it should be your choice. Not your father's. Not the Lannisters'."
Jocelyn looked at him, her heart pounding in her chest. "And if my choice brings war? If it endangers everyone I care about?"
Jon's expression hardened. "War comes whether we want it or not. But I've seen what happens to people who live only for others' expectations. It eats away at them until there's nothing left."
His words struck a chord deep within her. Jocelyn's gaze dropped to the snowy ground, her fingers twisting nervously in the folds of her cloak. "You make it sound so simple."
"It's not simple," Jon admitted. "But it's worth it."
They stood in silence for a moment, the cold wind brushing against their faces. Jocelyn felt an almost magnetic pull toward Jon, as though the quiet intensity in his eyes held the answers she sought. But just as she opened her mouth to speak, the sound of boots crunching in the snow made her turn.
Robb stood at the edge of the godswood, his blue eyes narrowing as he took in the scene before him. "Am I interrupting?" he asked, though his tone carried a note of accusation.
Jocelyn stiffened, her heart racing. "No," she said quickly. "We were just… talking."
"Talking," Robb repeated, stepping closer. His gaze shifted to Jon, and the tension between them crackled like lightning. "You've been spending a lot of time with our guest, Jon."
Jon met Robb's gaze evenly. "She's free to speak with whoever she chooses."
"Is she?" Robb's voice was sharp, but it softened as he turned back to Jocelyn. "You don't have to be torn, you know. You could stay here, where you're wanted."
Jocelyn's breath hitched. The weight of both their gazes pressed down on her, their unspoken rivalry impossible to ignore. Robb's warmth and confidence had drawn her in, while Jon's quiet strength offered her solace in her darkest moments. Both men were offering her something she had never been given before: the freedom to choose.
But her choice would have consequences. The North had become her refuge, but the South was her reality. Could she truly abandon her duty for the sake of her heart?
"I can't—" she started, her voice trembling. "I don't know what to do."
"Then take your time," Jon said, his tone steady. "No one can force you to decide."
"But don't take too long," Robb added, his voice softening as he stepped closer to her. "The world won't wait forever."
Jocelyn looked between them, her heart breaking under the weight of their expectations. She turned back to the heart tree, its carved face seeming to watch her with silent judgment.
For now, she could delay her decision. But deep down, Jocelyn knew that the day of reckoning was fast approaching, and when it came, no godswood or direwolf could shield her from the storm that would follow.
The snow fell heavier the next morning, blanketing Winterfell in a soft, unforgiving white. Jocelyn stood by her window, watching the flurries dance in the wind. Despite the beauty of the scene, her thoughts remained tangled. Jaime Lannister's second letter had left no room for delay, and Robb and Jon's unspoken rivalry only added to the storm brewing inside her.
A knock at her door interrupted her reverie. Mira entered, clutching a small tray with tea and bread. "My lady," she said cautiously, setting the tray down. "Lord Stark has called for you. He's in the Great Hall."
"Which one?" Jocelyn asked, trying to mask her unease.
Mira hesitated. "Lord Robb."
Jocelyn sighed, wrapping her cloak around her shoulders. She descended the cold stone steps of Winterfell, her footsteps echoing in the quiet corridors. The Great Hall was warmer, its fires blazing against the chill. Robb stood by the high table, speaking with Maester Luwin. His face was serious, his brows furrowed in thought.
When he saw her, he straightened, his expression softening. "Jocelyn," he said warmly. "Thank you for coming."
She approached cautiously. "You summoned me, my lord?"
Robb gestured to the table, where a map of the North was spread out, weighted down by stones. "There's been news from the southern road. A Lannister escort was spotted not far from Moat Cailin."
Jocelyn's heart dropped. "They're coming for me."
Robb nodded, his jaw tightening. "It seems Jaime isn't wasting any time."
Her chest tightened, and she glanced at the map, her gaze drawn to the line of the Kingsroad stretching south. Every step of that path felt like a tether pulling her away from the life she wanted and toward the one she feared.
"You don't have to go with them," Robb said, his voice low but firm. He stepped closer, his blue eyes locking with hers. "Stay in Winterfell. I'll protect you. The Lannisters won't dare start a war over this."
Jocelyn shook her head. "You don't understand, Robb. This isn't just about me. It's about my family, my house. If I defy them, it could destroy everything."
"And if you leave, it could destroy you," Robb countered, his voice rising slightly. "You think Jaime Lannister will care about your happiness? Your freedom? He'll treat you like a prize, nothing more."
Jocelyn flinched, his words cutting deeper than she expected. "It's not that simple," she whispered. "I can't just abandon everything."
Robb's expression softened, and he reached for her hand. "You wouldn't be abandoning anything, Jocelyn. You'd be choosing yourself. You'd be choosing a life where you're more than a pawn in someone else's game."
Her heart ached at his words, the sincerity in his voice almost too much to bear. But before she could respond, the sound of footsteps echoed through the hall.
Jon appeared in the doorway, his cloak dusted with snow. His gaze flicked between Jocelyn and Robb, his expression guarded. "What's going on?" he asked, his voice calm but tense.
Robb released Jocelyn's hand, stepping back slightly. "The Lannisters are sending an escort to take her south."
Jon's jaw tightened, and his gray eyes darkened. "And what do you intend to do about it?"
Robb crossed his arms, his tone sharpening. "I intend to make sure she knows she has a choice."
"A choice?" Jon repeated, stepping closer. "Or are you just trying to convince her to stay for your sake?"
The tension in the room was palpable, the air thick with unspoken words. Jocelyn felt caught between them, their opposing forces threatening to tear her apart.
"This isn't about me," Robb said firmly. "It's about her future."
"And it's hers to decide," Jon shot back. He turned to Jocelyn, his expression softening. "You don't owe anyone your life—not the Lannisters, not your father. But whatever you choose, it has to be what you want."
Jocelyn looked between them, her heart pounding. Both men had given her reasons to stay, to fight for a life beyond duty and obligation. But the weight of the decision felt insurmountable.
"I don't know what I want," she admitted, her voice trembling. "All I know is that I'm running out of time."
The room fell silent, the crackling fire the only sound. Robb's shoulders sagged, and Jon's gaze lingered on her, his eyes filled with something she couldn't quite name.
Finally, Robb spoke. "You'll have my support, no matter what you choose," he said quietly.
Jon nodded, his voice steady. "The same goes for me."
Jocelyn felt tears prick at her eyes, their words both a comfort and a reminder of the impossible choice she faced. As the firelight danced across the walls, she realized that no matter which path she chose, there would be no turning back.
Winter was here, and with it came the storm that would decide her fate.