v. the mother

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The door creaked loudly as Jon stepped into the armoury. His hands gripped the tunic he was carrying tightly, using it to safeguard them from the harsh winds outside. His eyes were still fixed on the ground.

"Hey."

Jon's gaze shot upwards at the voice.

"Hey," he replied, closing the door behind him. Elle sat on a table at the other side of the room, some fabric in her lap. "What are you doing here?"

She lifted the piece of cloth. Jon spotted a needle in her left hand.

"Oh."

"Did you assume that all I am doing here is walk along the Wall at night?"

Admittedly, Jon hadn't thought about it that much. He had assumed that, as a woman, she would keep away from the men at Castle Black. Hadn't she hinted at something like this a few nights ago?

"I did, kind of." He stepped further into the room. "You're helping out, too?"

"I am helping out wherever I'm needed," she replied, returning to her needlework. "In this case, it probably helps that I am one of the only people in this castle that knows how to sew." She chuckled, and Jon shared her smile.

Then her eyebrows knitted together. "What did you mean by 'too'? Do not tell me you help with the clothes."

Jon was sure a small blush spread on his cheeks, especially after noticing her mischievous grin.

"No! No, definitely not." He cleared his throat. "I help with the weapons, the armour and stuff. I don't know the last thing about sewing clothes."

"Well, neither do I. At least, not anymore. But my father thought it necessary for me to be able to mend my own clothes. I guess it did come in handy. Speaking of-" Elle's gaze shifted downwards, to the tunic in his hands. With a short jerk of her chin she said, "Do you need that fixed?"

Jon looked down, briefly gripping the fabric tighter. "Uh, yeah. It ripped during training."

"I am not surprised." Elle still continued with her sewing. "The quality of the clothes here is atrocious." A short pause, then she tapped the desk she was sitting on. "You can put the tunic down here, I will fix it right after this one."

Jon followed her command. Then he stood next to her for a few silent minutes, watching her work.

"Do you know where Donal is?" he finally asked.

Elle shrugged. "No. He left a while ago, I do not know when he will be back."

She put the needle on a plate next to her, tied a knot in the thread, and cut the excess off with a dagger.

Jon blinked once. He had completely missed the dagger lying next to her.

He averted his eyes, not wanting his embarrassment to be seen by Elle. Who knew a simple wooden wall could be so interesting?

"Do you want me to teach you how to sew?"

Jon turned back to Elle. Slowly, to collect his thoughts. Her smile was pleasant, encouraging, and something about it made him want to step closer.

"I don't know," he answered. "I'd probably be worse at it than my sister."

"You can at least give it a try, mending clothes is not as difficult as it might look. Besides, do you really want to stand around aimlessly waiting for Donal?" She had raised her eyebrows, almost in a challenge.

ᴍᴇᴇᴛ ᴍᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴀʀᴋ, ᴋɪꜱꜱ ᴍᴇ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴏᴏɴʟɪɢʜᴛWhere stories live. Discover now