You were the daughter of Robert. So you were a princess. A little bit older than Joffrey.

The other day, your father and the rest of you and your family went to Winterfell.

During that small amount of time when you were there, you’ve met a few people. Robb, who you immediately became friends with. Or Arya, who liked you since she met you.

You also met this guy. Jon. The Bastard of Winterfell. You didn’t understand the point of the title. No need to put him down because of his birth title. And he was one of the sweetest person you’ve ever seen. Actually, he was cold and reserved, originally. But it seemed like Jon had a soft spot for the Baratheon princess, so.

You came in his chambers to give him back the cloak he gave you last night, as he saw you shivering. But you two ended up talking. And you noticed his gaze.

"Please don’t look at me like that." You asked, not even aware of the fact that your eyes were mirroring his.

He tilted his head. "Why not?"

You swallowed, and started to walk away, past him, out of his room. He smiled to himself and looked back at you. "Sorry m’lady."