Chapter 3: A Winter's Welcome

As the introductions drew to a close, Rosaline's gaze wandered to the castle's windows, where warm light spilled out into the snowy evening like a golden glow. The sound of laughter and music drifted out, mingling with the scent of roasting meat and baking bread, making her stomach growl with hunger. She had not eaten since dawn, and the cold had sharpened her appetite. Lady Catelyn, noticing Rosaline's distraction, smiled kindly. "I think it's time we got you warmed up and settled, don't you? The cold air has left you looking a bit pale." She gestured to a servant, who hastened forward with a steaming bowl of soup and a warm cloak. As Rosaline took the proffered bowl and wrapped the cloak around her shoulders, she caught a glimpse of the cloaked figure again, this time closer, as he moved to stand beside Lord Stark. His eyes met hers once more, and for an instant, she felt a spark of connection, like a flicker of candlelight in the darkness. Greatjon, noticing her gaze, followed it to the mysterious figure. His expression turned serious, and he leaned in to whisper something in Lord Stark's ear. The lord's eyes narrowed, and he nodded once, his gaze lingering on the figure before returning to Rosaline. "Let's get you inside, my dear," Lady Catelyn said, taking Rosaline's elbow to guide her toward the keep. "You must be famished. We'll get you settled and then you can join us for dinner." As they entered the warm, firelit great hall, Rosaline felt a sense of wonder. The room was filled with the sound of laughter and conversation, the smell of roasting meat and baking bread making her stomach growl louder. She was led to a cozy room with a fire burning in the hearth, where a warm bed and a chest for her belongings awaited. A soft voice spoke from the doorway, "Lady Rosaline, I've brought you some hot water and a change of clothes. I'll help you get settled." It was a girl with a kind face and a shy smile, who introduced herself as Jeyne, one of the Stark's serving maids. As Rosaline changed into the warm, woolen clothes, she couldn't shake the feeling that she was being watched. She glanced out the window, but the courtyard was empty, the snow-covered stones glistening in the fading light. She turned back to Jeyne, who was busily arranging her belongings in the chest. "Tell me, Jeyne," Rosaline said, "who is that man who was standing in the courtyard? The one in the cloak?" Jeyne's expression turned guarded, and she glanced around the room before leaning in to whisper, "That's Jon Snow, my lady. He's...one of Lord Stark's bastards. He's a bit of a loner, but he's a good man." Rosaline's curiosity was piqued. She had sensed a depth to Jon Snow that she couldn't quite explain, a sense of quiet power and introspection. She wondered what his story was, what had brought him to Winterfell, and what lay hidden behind those dark, brooding eyes. As she finished her soup and prepared for dinner, she couldn't help but feel a sense of anticipation, a sense that her life was about to change in ways she couldn't yet imagine.