He can’t feel for you, can’t fall for you because he knows it’ll end in heartache if he does; he’s to be sent to the Wall in a few months time, and you’re likely to be betrothed sometime soon, shipped off to another kingdom.

He can’t, and yet he does.

But how can he not as he listens to your soft voice while you two talk in the dining hall after dark?

He gazes at you, at the way your skin is illuminated by the torch light, how your eyes shine in it.