The fire crackled softly in the dimly lit chamber, casting long shadows against the cold stone walls. Lord Thaddeus Everfair sat in silence, staring into the flames, his hands clasped tightly together. The weight of grief settled over him like an iron chain, heavier than any responsibility he had ever borne. His daughter—his only child—was gone.

Across from him, Jaime Lannister lounged in a chair, swirling a goblet of wine between his fingers. His golden hair glowed in the firelight, but his expression was unreadable, his sharp gaze fixed on Lord Thaddeus as if studying him.

"You don't truly believe it, do you?" Jaime said at last, his voice smooth but laced with skepticism.

Thaddeus closed his eyes briefly, exhaling through his nose. He had known this conversation was coming.

"I saw the ravine," Jaime continued. "The disturbed snow, the shattered carriage, the torn fabric conveniently left behind. A perfect accident, a perfect tragedy. Too perfect."

Thaddeus opened his eyes and turned to face Jaime fully. "What are you implying?"

Jaime smirked, but it lacked amusement. "I don't like loose ends, and this feels like one." He leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. "No body. No remains. Just a story wrapped up too neatly with a bow. And I don't trust the Starks enough to take them at their word."

Thaddeus sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You think they lied?"

"I think it's convenient," Jaime said. "And I think it wouldn't be the first time a Stark played a long game for the sake of their own."

Thaddeus shook his head, his voice edged with exhaustion. "Enough, Jaime."

Jaime raised an eyebrow. "Enough?"

"Yes." Thaddeus' voice was firm, though the grief in his eyes was undeniable. "She's gone. My daughter is dead. And I refuse to waste the rest of my days chasing ghosts."

Jaime studied him for a long moment, then leaned back in his chair, taking a slow sip of his wine. "You don't even want to entertain the thought that she might still be alive?"

Thaddeus' jaw tightened. "And what if she were? What good would it do? What life would she have now, if not the one I planned for her?" His hands clenched into fists. "She's not coming back, Jaime. Either way, she's lost to me."

Jaime tilted his head, watching Thaddeus with an expression that was almost thoughtful. "You spent her whole life preparing her for a future, and now it's just… over?"

Thaddeus swallowed, the grief pressing against his ribs like a crushing weight. He had done everything he could to ensure Jocelyn's future—to make her useful, to make her strong. He had spent years shaping her into something valuable, and now it was all for nothing.

"I should have told her," he murmured, mostly to himself.

Jaime's eyes narrowed. "Told her what?"

Thaddeus exhaled slowly. "That I was proud of her. That she was more than just a bargaining chip, more than a means to an end." He shook his head. "But I never did. I spent all my time making sure she was prepared for the world. And now, she's gone, and all I can think about is whether she died knowing I loved her."

Jaime was silent for a moment before he sighed and drained the rest of his wine. "It's a cruel world, Thaddeus. We rarely get the chance to say what we should before it's too late."

Thaddeus stared into the fire, his vision blurring. "Yes. It is."

Jaime set his goblet down with a quiet thud. "Still," he said after a pause, "I won't stop wondering."

Thaddeus turned to him, weary. "Jaime."

The Kingslayer smirked, but there was no humor in it. "Don't worry, Lord Everfair. I won't go digging through the snow for her bones. But let's just say… I'll keep my ears open."

Thaddeus exhaled, shaking his head. "Do as you will, but I'm done."

Jaime rose from his chair, stretching lazily. "Suit yourself." He moved toward the door, then paused, glancing back. "For what it's worth, if she is gone, I think she got the better end of the deal. She would have hated being my wife."

Thaddeus let out a humorless chuckle. "I expect you're right."

Jaime smirked, then disappeared into the corridor, leaving Thaddeus alone with his thoughts.

As the fire flickered and the shadows danced across the stone walls, he let out a slow breath, feeling every year of his life weigh upon him.

Jocelyn was gone. And whether she had died in that ravine or vanished into some unknown life, she was beyond his reach now.

And that, more than anything, was what truly broke him.