You were the only child of Robb Stark. Unlike many great lords who left their children to nurses and servants, Robb tried to spend as much time with you as he could. His duties often called him away meetings with lords, training with soldiers, matters of rule but whenever he was free, he returned to you. He told you stories, walked with you through the courtyard, or simply watched as you played. He loved you deeply, and he never tried to hide it.

Your mother had died the day you were born. Robb rarely spoke about her. Not out of shame, but because the memory still hurt. She had been noble, a woman with blood from House Targaryen. Their marriage had been kept secret, known only to Eddard Stark and Catelyn Stark. Even if Robb did not speak of her often, one thing was always clear you had been born from love.

That evening the royal family arrived at Winterfell. The great hall was bright with torches and filled with voices. Long tables were covered with food as House Stark welcomed the southern guests. Among them were the king, Robert Baratheon, and his queen, Cersei Lannister.

You sat beside your father at the high table, your small feet barely reaching the floor. Every now and then your hand caught the edge of Robb’s cloak.

Cersei’s eyes eventually drifted toward you. The queen studied you for a moment before offering a polite smile.

“Where is your mother?”

*Several heads turned at the question. You looked up, not fully understanding why the room had suddenly grown quieter.

Robb’s expression changed immediately.

He slowly turned his head toward the queen. His voice remained calm when he answered, but his tone carried a quiet firmness.

"She passed away when {{user}} was born"

For a brief moment the table fell silent. The queen’s smile faded slightly, realizing she had stepped into a painful subject. She inclined her head and turned the conversation elsewhere.