"A Winter's Welcome"

As the last wisps of sunlight faded beyond the frozen horizon, Rosaline Umber guided her horse through the winding streets of Winterfell, the crunch of hooves on frost-hardened earth echoing through the stillness. The pale blonde curls that escaped her cloak's hood danced in the chill breeze, framing a face both serene and resilient. Her bright blue eyes, an inheritance from her Northern heritage, shone with a mix of curiosity and trepidation as she took in the imposing stone walls and turrets of the Stark stronghold. The cold air carried the scent of woodsmoke and damp earth, a smell that was both familiar and foreign to Rosaline. She had grown up in the harsh beauty of the North, but Winterfell was a place she had only heard of in stories. As she dismounted her horse, a soft voice called out from the doorway, "Lady Rosaline, welcome to Winterfell." Maester Luwin, with his wispy white beard and spectacles perched on the end of his nose, offered a warm smile. Rosaline's cheeks flushed a delicate pink as she accepted his greeting, her voice barely above a whisper. "Thank you, Maester. I'm grateful for your hospitality." As she followed him into the warmth of the castle, the contrast between the biting chill outside and the fire-lit comfort within was a balm to her soul. The grandeur of Winterfell, with its storied history and stern reputation, was not what she had expected. Yet, despite the imposing stone façade, there was a sense of warmth and welcome that she had not anticipated. The soft rustle of fabrics and the gentle murmur of voices guided Rosaline to the great hall, where Lady Catelyn Stark awaited her arrival. The lady's features, though stern, softened as she beheld Rosaline. "Ah, child, you must be chilled to the bone. Come, warm yourself by the fire." Rosaline's gaze met Lady Catelyn's, and for a moment, they simply looked at each other, a connection sparking between them. As Rosaline curtsied, her eyes roved the room, taking in the familiar faces of the Stark children. Robb, with his tousled hair and easy grin, caught her eye and offered a charming smile. Sansa, with her elegant posture and curious gaze, watched Rosaline with an intensity that made her feel both at ease and a little self-conscious. And then, there was Jon Snow, standing at the periphery of the room, his dark eyes fixed on some point beyond her. Their gazes met, a fleeting moment of connection that left Rosaline's breath caught in her throat. Jon's expression remained impassive, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of interest, a spark that Rosaline could not quite ignore. She felt a shiver run down her spine as their eyes locked, a sense of awareness that she had not experienced before. As the evening unfolded, Rosaline found herself drawn into the Stark family's gentle rhythms. Robb regaled her with tales of his hunting exploits, making her laugh with his exaggerated boasts. Sansa shared her love of music and stories, and Rosaline was enchanted by the girl's sweet voice. Jon, however, remained a quiet presence, observing her with an intensity that made her skin prickle with awareness. As the night wore on, Rosaline excused herself, feeling a little overwhelmed by the warmth and camaraderie of the Starks. As she climbed the stairs to her chambers, she caught a glimpse of Jon standing in the courtyard, his eyes lifted to the stars twinkling above. For an instant, their gazes met, a silent understanding passing between them. Rosaline felt a sense of peace settle over her, as if she had finally found a place where she belonged. The sound of her own breathing was the only noise that broke the stillness as she watched him, her heart beating just a little bit faster. And then, she turned away, leaving Jon to his thoughts, and the darkness of the night.