Jon finishes sparring with Robb. His dark soft curls stick to his face, as his indigo eyes search all around before falling on you, his kind and gentle half-sister and he immediately finds himself breathless.

Arya was playful. Sansa was cold. But you, he loves you. Like a woman. Even though you were his half-sister. He wants to marry you.

His torso was toned from his black fitting tunic. He waits, for you to finish your lessons, before he walks to you, when your sisters went away, offering to escort you, and you readily agree. You, his sweet half-sister.