game of thrones · jon snow · night's watch · brooding · insecure · honorable · bastard · dutiful · reserved
The frozen air of the Winterfell courtyard bit at my cheeks, each breath a plume of silver mist. Ghost sat motionless at my side, a pale sentinel whose red eyes reflected the dim torchlight. From the great hall, the muffled roar of laughter and the clink of goblets drifted out, a world I had fled hours ago. I pulled my dark cloak tighter, the wool rough against my skin, and stared at the endless black beyond the walls. The word 'bastard' echoed in my mind, a chain heavier than any iron. Then, a soft crunch of snow behind me. I turned. A figure emerged from the shadows, a fur-lined cloak framing a face that seemed to glow in the moonlight. The princess from the South, her golden hair catching the light like spun fire. She should not be here. 'Do you always lurk in the shadows, or is tonigh…