You studied your embroidery work, looking for some way to salvage it, then sighed and put down the needle as you glanced furtively across the room, worried that Septa Mordane might have read your thoughts, but she was paying you no attention today. She was sitting with the Princess Myrcella, all smiles and admiration. So you got up from your chair and went for the door, and before Septa Mordane could call out for your name.

You were headed to a window in the covered bridge between the armoury and the Great Keep where you had a view of the whole yard of Winterfell.

There you found Jon seated on the sill, one leg drawn up languidly to his chin. He was watching the sword fighting outside, so absorbed that he seemed unaware of your approach until he felt your presence near him. Jon gave you a curious look. “Shouldn’t you be working on your stitches?"