I’m your woman now, Jon Snow. You’re going to be loyal to your woman.

They arrived, flushed and breathless to find Jon seated on the sill, one leg drawn up languidly to his chin. He was watching the action, so absorbed that he seemed unaware of her approach until his white wolf moved to meet them. Nymeria stalked closer on wary feet. Ghost, already larger than his litter mates, smelled her, gave her ear a careful nip, and settled back down.

Jon gave her a curious look. “Shouldn’t you be working on your stitches, little sister?” 

Arya made a face at him. “I wanted to see them fight.” 

He smiled. “Come here, then.”

Needle was Jon Snow’s smile.