The Great Hall was filled with the warmth of the morning fire, the scent of fresh bread and roasted meat lingering in the air. The Starks gathered around the long wooden table, their voices soft and easy as they settled into breakfast. It was a rare moment of peace, and Jocelyn found herself savoring it.

She sat between Robb and Sansa, her hands wrapped around a warm cup of cider, her eyes flicking around the table. Eddard and Catelyn sat at the head, Bran swinging his legs happily beneath his chair as Arya stuffed a second roll into her mouth before Sansa could scold her for it.

It felt… normal. Almost normal.

Robb nudged her playfully, leaning in just enough for only her to hear. "You're awfully quiet. Regretting last night already?"

Jocelyn shot him a look before smirking. "Oh, I was just wondering how many women have fallen for your charm before me."

Robb grinned. "None quite like you."

Catelyn cleared her throat, her sharp gaze flicking between them. "Is there something you'd like to share with the rest of us?"

Jocelyn flushed, but Robb, ever confident, simply grinned. "Only that Jocelyn nearly fell over herself trying to impress me last night."

Jocelyn scoffed, feigning offense. "I did not!"

Arya, never one to miss an opportunity, smirked. "You probably did."

Sansa rolled her eyes, though there was amusement in them. "Must you always be so unrefined?"

Arya shrugged. "It's the truth."

Robb chuckled, draping an arm casually over the back of Jocelyn's chair. "Don't listen to them, love. I was the one who was completely captivated."

Jocelyn took a sip of her cider, eyeing him playfully. "As you should be."

Laughter rippled through the table, even Eddard's lips twitching with the faintest ghost of a smile. Jocelyn felt warmth spread through her chest—this was what she had wanted. To belong somewhere.

And yet…

As she glanced at the empty seat that had once been Jon's, the ache of his absence curled deep in her chest.

She missed him. She hated how much she missed him.

Robb seemed to notice the shift in her expression, his fingers brushing against her hand beneath the table. A silent reassurance.

She squeezed his hand back, forcing a smile as the conversation carried on.

She had chosen Robb. And she was happy.

But some part of her still wished Jon had been there, sitting across from her, smirking at her jokes, rolling his eyes at Robb's teasing.

She had found her place at the Stark table.

But it didn't feel complete.

Lord Thaddeus Everfair sat at his desk, the candlelight flickering against the dark wood as he reread the letter for the third time. His fingers tightened around the parchment, the words burned into his mind.

I know Jocelyn is not dead.

I have proof.

The Starks have been hiding and deceiving you.

There was no signature, no indication of who had sent it—just those chilling words scrawled across the page in sharp, deliberate ink.

His heart pounded.

He had spent months grieving his daughter, forcing himself to accept her death, to bury the rage and sorrow that had nearly consumed him. Jaime had insisted something was off, but Thaddeus had refused to listen. He had wanted to believe the story.

But now…

Now, someone was telling him that his daughter was alive.

And that the Starks had lied.

He pushed his chair back and stood abruptly, his pulse thrumming in his ears. If this was true, if there was even the slightest chance that Jocelyn was out there, that Winterfell had deceived him—he would burn that wretched castle to the ground if he had to.

His hands trembled as he reached for the raven quill and scrawled a message onto fresh parchment.

Jaime,

You were right. I was a fool not to listen to you. I've received something that changes everything. I won't write it here, but we need to speak. Now.

He folded the letter, sealing it with wax before summoning a servant. "Send this to Ser Jaime Lannister immediately. I don't care how much it costs or how fast you must ride—get it to him."

The servant bowed and hurried off, leaving Thaddeus alone once more.

He exhaled sharply, gripping the edges of his desk. If the Starks had been lying, if they had taken his daughter and hidden her, there would be no mercy.

And this time, he wouldn't stop until he had Jocelyn back.

⸻

The Great Hall of the Red Keep was lively, filled with the scent of roasted meat and the murmurs of courtiers discussing everything from war strategies to petty gossip. Jaime Lannister sat with his usual air of casual arrogance, drinking wine and half-listening to whatever nonsense was being spewed at court that day.

He had tried to forget about Jocelyn Everfair.

Tried and failed.

The story still didn't sit right with him. He had let it go because he had no proof, no leverage. But that didn't mean he had believed it.

And then, just as he had resigned himself to moving on, the letter came.

As soon as he unsealed it and read Thaddeus Everfair's words, his entire body tensed.

A slow smirk curled across his lips.

"I was right."

He stood abruptly, shoving the goblet of wine aside as he strode toward the doors.

He needed to send a raven back to Thaddeus immediately. Then, he needed to prepare.

Winterfell thought they had played him for a fool.

But the lions were coming back.

And this time, they had proof.