"I love you."

          ❝ I love you. ❞

          He remembered those words so clearly as the pain of betrayal radiated through his chest. His breaths, shallow and labored, came in gasps rather than their natural fluidity. White vapors came from his mouth as he sunk down into the snow, his mutilated body surrounded by a gang of men, blurs and faces in a crowd, that he’d once called his sworn brothers. His lips moved, but he found no words; incoherent noises left his lips and where he was once upon his knees, an indention in the snow was found. Backwards, he staggered, until his body gave way and he collapsed, sprawled across the (now) crimson specks of ice and water. Eyes wide with apparent shock, the Lord Commander was already dead.

          In those moments though, precious few as they were, he finds his mind reeling. It’s true what they say, you know; about white lights and visions flashing before your eyes. It wasn’t so much an otherworldly experience as it was a moment to reflect before the end of everything. Time seemed to stop, and though his life was quickly fleeting, it felt like he had forever in front of him. He saw … pieces and parts of things, past experiences, thoughts, wants and desires. In contrast to his normally broody disposition, the visions he saw now—faced with his own demise—did not parallel him. They weren’t somber memories. They weren’t sad. They were happy, and they reminded him of one critical thing that thee Bastard of Winterfell had always been searching for.

          He saw Ghost, the runt of a litter of direwolves, who had now grown bigger and stronger than his brothers and sisters, fur coat white as the snows that fell in even the harshest of winters and eyes as red as his master’s blood, spilled ‘pon the floor. A true partner and best friend, if Jon had ever had one, who still remained as loyal on that day as any other. If he had a chance to do over, he would’ve never locked Ghost in that box, in that cage where Jon was sure he now faced an almost certain death. I’m sorry, Ghost. I’ll see you soon, boy.

          He saw Robb, handsome Robb. Despite his status, Robb had never made him feel like an outcast. Robb had never made him feel unwanted or unloved. Robb had been his friend, had given him advice and guidance. The next time I’ll see you, you’ll be all in black. Little did they know, Robb would never see Jon again after that conversation and heartfelt goodbye. If he had a do-over, would he say to hell with my duty, and join up with his brother in the War of Five Kings? Likely not, but it was a thought to ponder. Most important of all, though, Robb had been his brother. It didn’t matter that they came from different mothers, or that Jon was a bastard. Jon being his brother was enough. For a moment, Jon thinks he can almost feel a smile twitch at the corners of his lips. The young wolf remains unbeaten.

          Most importantly of all, Jon saw Arya. Little sister, he had always called her. She’d been closer to him than any of them, truly, because neither of them really seemed to fit in with the rest of their family. Of the children, Arya received more of Ned than she did of Catelyn, whereas her siblings tended to favor the Tully side of the genepool. Arya had always tagged along with Jon whenever and wherever she could, and Jon had always enjoyed being around her. He remembered having her most prized possession, Needle, she had called it, forged for her as a going away present. Stick ‘em with the pointy end, he’d told her, was the first rule of learning to use a sword. He worried, in all honesty, about Arya’s safety. Believing her to be trapped in the clutches of an enemy, Jon’s last memory would be that of his sister and the uncertainty of her fate. He would relish in the fact that, if any of the siblings could protect themselves, it would be Arya, and that gave him some solace; some relief amidst this inevitability. If only he could’ve held out a bit longer … If only his alliance with Mance Rayder had worked a little better … If only he’d … never left Winterfell. He could still muss her hair and tell her how much he loved her.

                                                                                                                  ❝ I love you, too. ❞