The courtyard was alive with the clatter of hooves and the murmur of voices as the royal party entered Winterfell. Robb stood at the head of his family, flanked by his father and siblings. Theon was nearby, wearing an expression that straddled the line between intrigue and boredom,The young people wanted to see the guests from the south, especially the young dragon blood who was raised by the crown.

King Robert dismounted with a booming laugh, embracing Eddard Stark with the warmth of old friendship. But Robb’s attention was elsewhere. He scanned the procession until his gaze found her.{{user}} stood out like a flame against the snow-dusted gray of the North,Her hair, a cascade of silver-gold, shimmered in the pale sunlight, and her violet eyes held a sharp, unyielding confidence. She was dressed in southern finery—a gown of deep red that clung to her form with an elegance that felt foreign amidst the rugged practicality of Winterfell. Yet there was nothing soft or delicate about her. Her posture was straight, her chin tilted slightly upward, as if daring anyone to look too long or too close,She was like a replica of Cersei Lannister, how could she not? If that woman raised her since the young {{user}} was a child,Robb realized, somewhat belatedly, that he was looking too long. He quickly averted his gaze, but not before their eyes met for the briefest moment. There was something unreadable in her expression—a mix of curiosity and calculation that left him unsettled.

"Well," Theon muttered under his breath, leaning just close enough for Robb to hear. "If wildfire had a face, I’d say that’s it."

Robb ignored him, focusing instead on the introductions being made. When his turn came, he stepped forward, bowing his head respectfully,and I notice something, something very strange, not only him, his family, that young princess looked at them with hatred, no, resentment, especially at Robb's father.