┌─── ∘°❉°∘ ───┐

Jon awoke feeling just as terrible as he had for the past five days. He did not want to get up. He wanted to wallow in self-pity, mourning every bad decision he had made in this past month. And there were many.

But eventually, he did get up.

Mormont knew something was wrong with him, but Jon had quickly explained it away by pointing to the wight and his father. That also did the trick with his friends.

Throughout the day he went over the list he had made in his mind to remind himself where he was standing.

One, Elle was a princess.

Two, Jon was in love with said princess.

And three, he could never be with her. So he best learn to live with that.

That evening he wanted to prepare himself for bed, when a knock sounded from the door. He quickly put his tunic back on and went to open it.

His breath hitched. Across from him stood Elle, with her usual braid, a nervous smile on her lips.

"Hey," she said.

"Hey." Jon opened his mouth, wanting to say something else, but he didn't know what.

"I wanted to apologise for what happened a couple of nights ago." Elle didn't look him in the eyes. "What I did was completely unacceptable and I hope you can forgive me for it."

But I don't want to.

"Of course. But only if you can forgive me as well."

"You know I do."

They stood across each other in uncomfortable silence, neither of them knowing what to say.

"Would you-" Jon started. He knew it was a bad idea, but he couldn't stop himself. "Would you like to come in? I know my rooms are not the best, but we can talk inside better than here."

A myriad of emotions crossed Elle's face. Jon almost thought she was going to refuse when-

"I would love to."

He stepped to the side, allowing her to enter.

Ghost was on her in an instance, rubbing against her legs and letting his head be petted by her hand. She smiled softly, and Jon wished she would direct it at him some day.

He should truly stop thinking about her.

Elle sat down on the window sill, the direwolf rolling up at her feet. Jon took a deep breath and joined her.

Their gazes met for a moment before she averted her eyes and instead stared outside, at the clear night sky. He wanted to look away as well, but he couldn't bring himself to.

"How is your hand?" she asked quietly.

He looked down at the bandages.

"It's getting better, but it still hurts." His fingers stretched instinctively. "I'm afraid I'll never be able to properly use it again."

"If you feel something, even pain, that means it is healing. Give it a little time."

She played around with her necklace, pushing the pendant around on the chain, pulling it down, letting it run through her fingers. If she did this every time she was alone, he wasn't surprised the chain had broken.

"You never told me where you got it from."

Elle stopped, and looked at him. He almost regretted asking her, readying himself to apologise to her, when she answered.

"My mother gave it to me. After my sister's birth she had one made for each of us." She looked down, furrowing her eyebrows. "I am not sure she even has hers anymore."

Of course. Of course it was her mother's. What else could mean so much to her?

"I am sure she has it, even if she may not wear it. If it is the thing that connects you to her, it must be the same the other way around."

The mention of Queen Cersei must have brought up an idea in her head, because the way she tapped her fingers against the pendant made it look like she wanted to tell him something. Perhaps argue against his assumption. She must know her mother better than him, even if-

"Jon?" she said quietly. "May I ask you something?"

"Of course. Anything." He wondered what suddenly had her so demure that she couldn't even look him in the face.

"A few moons back, Benjen left Castle Black to go south on his brother's - your father's - invitation. He said the King was coming to Winterfell."

Oh. He knew what she was going to ask even before she opened her mouth.

"Did you see my family?" she whispered.

"Aye, I did."

"What- How were they?"

How were the people who had imprisoned his father and were likely attempting to destroy his entire house?

"They looked well." He tried to smile as encouragingly as possible. "They were all there - your parents, your siblings, and your uncles. I did not spend time with them, but from what I gathered they were doing good."

She nodded.

"Robb told me a bit about your siblings," he continued. "Myrcella and Tommen are sweet children, he said. Very different from... from what would be expected of royalty."

Very different from their cruel brother and their lecherous father.

"Joffrey is the same age as my sister, Sansa. I heard talks of a betrothal."

"Of course." She laughed silently. "Things never change in the south."

He hadn't thought about it this way. If Elle had stayed the North would have gotten a princess - now, as if in punishment, they would have to give up one of their own. Send her south, the place Starks went to die.

Jon never truly cared much for Sansa, but he didn't want her in the claws of House Lannister either.

"I suppose you were never betrothed?" Her voice had a strange undertone, almost as if she was... jealous.

"Bastards don't get that luxury." If it even was one. "And I doubt anyone would want to marry me."

"I know that is not true." Her smile was unreadable. "A beautiful and honourable man like you... There are many ladies who would fall head over heels to be with someone like that."

Beautiful. She had called him beautiful.

Perhaps there was a chance, even the slightest, that she...

Even if - they could never be more than friends. He had taken care of that quite thoroughly.

"Not as much as with you," he finally brought out. "A princess of the realm is the kind of person many would go to war for."

She frowned. "No one cares about me that much."

"Why would you think that?"

Sadness lay in her eyes, as well as a story she refused to tell him. Despite everything, there was one crucial detail about her life she didn't share, and he had no idea as to why. What was it that had her so traumatised he wasn't allowed to know about it?

He needed to change the subject, if he wanted to keep her with him for a while longer.

"Would you go back to them? If you could, I mean."

She hesitated, and Jon cursed himself for not asking something lighter. Her favourite colour perhaps, or what place in Westeros she longed to see.

"Maybe," she answered quietly, her gaze a thousand miles away. "Someday." Then she looked at him. "Would you?"

"In a heartbeat." He let his fingers graze over the cold stone. "But if I did, my brother would have to kill me."

When did Robb become Lord of Winterfell in his mind? His father wasn't dead, just imprisoned; he was still the one having to enact justice in the North.

They fell into uncomfortable silence again, both having to grapple with the choices that led them to this place.

"I should return to my chambers," Elle finally said. He nodded in response.

She got off the window sill, kneeling beside Ghost for a moment.

Jon watched her pet his wolf, both of them looking so comfortable around each other, and unwillingly, fantasies came to him. Of a different life, where he had been made heir to Winterfell and married the princess. She would have never run away if she had been betrothed to him.

What a stupid thought.

Elle stood up, pausing before him for a moment.

"I am glad you are my friend."

He smiled, trying to hide the pain. "Aye, me too."

His gaze did not follow her as she left his room. Instead, he had his eyes trained on the almost full moon, wishing above all he could hold Elle in his arms at least once before his death. But he knew that would never come to pass.

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a/n: last chapter before the finale next week :(