Jon Snow
Once he was too young to understand what he was giving up. Back then, Jon was a boy who found what it means to be drawn to a woman, but he was too green to realize that he should have stayed and fought for her. He should have picked the last remains of wildflowers and gifted them to her for she must have missed home. He should entered every dinner and asked her to dance instead of dulling swords in the backyard.
Jon let Rosalie go too easily, convincing himself it was the honorable thing to do. He told himself he was doing the right thing by letting Robb court her and staying out of his way. Instead of taking her by the hand and telling her how lovely she is, he had chosen Castle Black.
If he could, Jon would go back to the start and told her what's truly in his heart.
Perhaps she's right, he's in love with the idea of her. He's been building up this image of a woman who can do no wrong, who is pure and innocent and utterly incapable of being hurtful and yet she's not. She's human too, flawed as he is. He turned his head away from her the moment he's learned of her flaws, of the mistakes she's made and it made him sick to grasp how unfair he's been to her.
When Rosalie needed him the most, Jon was too busy licking his wounds to keep her from falling of the ledge. He was so stuck on her choice to be with a Lannister that he couldn't stomach being near her and it cost him more he'd ever care to admit.
Even now, as he looked at her, Jon didn't know how to speak to her. It seems every word he says is somehow making it worse between them and so he chose not to speak at all. The sail should be a few days long, he could be quiet for a while longer. Once they dock, they'll likely be too busy to engage in conversation and he'll be unable to say the wrong thing again.
But a part of him is unforgiving, not to her imperfections but his. He had her lips a whisper away and her body was pressed against his and yet its the closest he'll ever get. It made him angry, jealous of the way Robb had all of her when he could barely get a mere glance his way. He found himself envious of his brother once again, even now when he's dead. Jon hated how weak of a man he must be to hold a grudge that's never been Robb's fault.
It's Jon who didn't try to fight for Rosalie back then, it was Jon who ignored her and it was Jon who had managed to alienate her once more. He felt closer to her when he was beyond the Wall and she in the south. To be mere inches away from her not be able to hold her felt worse.
All these years, Jon worked on being the better man - the better choice. He did all they expected him to and yet he never once realized how bitter he's been.
Rosalie is right, he does not know her. He barely knows himself, but he would know her if she allowed him to. For all of the light he lost and all the innocence he once had and sacrificed, he'd start anew with her.
He failed plenty in his life, but he never wishes to fail her. And as he sees her grip his late brother's cloak around her, Jon swallows thickly to dislodge the lump at the back of his neck.
Noticing a ring on her finger, Jon's eyes narrow. He wondered where she got it for she always wore it, even though he hardly remembered it being on her finger when they first met.
"Do you remember?" She breaks the thick veil of silence that had settled between them. "When Eddard Stark brought you and Robb to Highgarden?"
Clearing his throat, Jon frowns as he meets her gloomy eyes. "I do not remember ever leaving Winterfell."
"Oh", she smiles sadly as her gaze falls to the floor. "I remember it. Faintly."
"How old were we?" Jon asks, wishing for the sound of her voice to never quiet down. It's the most delightful sound, better than anything he'd ever heard in his life. He wished he remembered what she seems to. He'd claim anything concerning her and hold it close, but he truly couldn't grasp the memory.
"Six, maybe seven", she purses her lips to prevent herself from smiling. "You liked playing hide and seek."
"Yeah?" He chuckles, noticing her lips twitch.
Nodding, she glances at him. "You were quite good. I couldn't find you."
Inhaling sharply, Jon couldn't help but see the parallels. She never could find him, not in any game, not in life, not in love.
"And Robb?" He asks bravely, refusing to cower under the weight of his memory.
Robb was a great man, but he is dead now. Jon isn't. He can't be a threat to his hopes and dreams anymore. It made him feel awful for thinking of his brother in such a way, because he'd do anything to have him back, but it was the truth and he simply acknowledged it.
Noticing the crestfallen look erase her smile, Jon felt guilty for asking. He shouldn't have picked at her wounds, but he wanted to know just how deep they run.
"I remember his hair turning to fire under the sunlight", she pauses. "His eyes were undeniably unearthly whenever we were in the fields together."
"Did you play games too?" Jon wondered, hoping she'd say she doesn't remember as much. He wished to win in this game of memory too, because if she remembers Jon better it would mean he won at least once in this lifelong losing game.
"No", she was quick to respond. "We laid in the fields and watched the sky. He always managed to see animal shaped clouds whereas I saw the oddest shapes." Her smile slowly spread across her lips as Jon sighs.
Even then, their bond was stronger than her bond with Jon. He was but a playmate, but Robb was a friend.
"I dreamt of you", Rosalie admits quietly. Drawing Jon's attention, she rubs her nose. While she didn't seem phased by her admission, Jon was struggling to catch his breath. It's not an every day confession he had expected to hear.
"It wasn't a series of pleasant dreams", she continues and his eyebrows furrow.
"How so?"
Shrugging, she sniffles. "It's like you were in danger. Like I could feel something was going terribly wrong on your journey and my dreams were warning me you would encounter something incredibly terrifying."
"The Night King", Jon huffs. "You could sense I'd cross paths with him."
"Maybe", she bites her lower lip as her troubled eyes fall on him. "It's not something I can explain or put into words that won't make me seem insane, but I felt you Jon. I felt you and the worst part", she closes her eyes in anguish. "I think I felt you die too."
Licking his lips, Jon stood in confusion. He wanted to understand, to believe her but how could he? She's never said anything before, so why now? Does she think this is the last chance they'll get to have frank conversation? Is she saying a goodbye in her own way?
"I just had this feeling that something insidious would happen and or did happen and it didn't give me any peace for a whole day and then it just dissipated."
Swallowing thickly, he nods. "Perhaps it's tied to the fact I hallucinated your presence as I was bleeding out."
"You saw me?" She breathes out, standing abruptly enough to make Jon stagger back.
As he looks into her eyes, he finds a sea of unshed tears roaming toward the corners of her eyes. Soon, those tears will spill and when they do, he didn't know if he could stand there and respect her choice for space.
"Ay", he manages. Sniffling, he brushes his fingers against the hilt of his sword. "Thought you were dead and came for me."
Lips twitching and pressing into a thin line, Rosalie struggled to keep her composure and he saw behind the perfectly poised veil she rarely allowed to fall. He didn't meant to make her cry, but it felt good she cared enough to shed a tear for him.
Choking back a sob, she turns away from him and looks up.
"I'm glad you're here, Snow."
Letting out a heavy sigh, he stares at the back of her head with a wistful, familiar ache in his heart. Looking to his left, Jon saw the outline of Dragonstone in the distance, breaking through the mist.
It would soon be time to play his role again, but for a while longer he chose to pretend.
Stepping closer to her, he placed his hands on her shoulders. Feeling her tense, he held his breath. Sensing her relax, he let out the breath he was holding and smiled. It's a small gesture, but enough for him to survive on for a while.
At least she's not cutting him out. There's hope still.
Jaime Lannister
Looking at the unsteady waters, Jaime downed his cup of wine. Rosalie always liked to stand by their window and watch the sea in distance. It fascinated her, called for her and she admitted it gave her peace and serenity.
It did the opposite for Jaime. If anything, it served as a constant reminder of what he's lost and can never regain. Well, perhaps it's a possibility, but the chances are quite slim after the way she left him.
That still bothered him. It's not even that she left him, it's how she did it. Jaime assumed she'd have enough love reserved for him in that Stark filled heart not to leave without a proper goodbye. After all the horrors they've survived together, he trusted it wouldn't end for them in that throne room. He trusted she'd be short with him for a while, allowing him to grovel for forgiveness.
In his mind, he was doing the right thing. He was serving his king, while finding the best way to serve his wife too. Margaery was her sister, Loras her brother and Jaime knew it would make Rosalie a reckless tornado of pure rage. She'd have done something to get herself apprehended by Sparrow and his minions, for she is brilliant and fierce but incredibly stupid when it emotions are involved. She'd have been blinded and misstep and so he acted before she could.
What he did allowed for Margaery to go free, and if Cersei wasn't an unbelievably unpredictable psychopath, Loras would have been freed as well.
All Rosalie needed to do is trust in him. She needed to believe him when he told her he loves her and to be patient with him. If he told her what he's doing, Cersei would have known he was duplicitous. She would have seen through their fake arguments and he'd be unable to do as he planned.
How could he have known his Rosalie would have thought the worse?
No.
Not his.
She's no longer his.
In the end, she showed exactly what she thinks of him. She saw him as the Kingslayer Westerosi people view him as. Jaime felt silly for trusting in her feelings, in her seeing beyond the mask he was forced to wear.
What was temporary then has become permanent since she left.
He played the role of a wicked man who stands by Cersei, yet he found himself standing before her chambers every day now. He's become precisely what he fought so hard not to be, what Rosalie showed him he could walk away from.
What was the point of it all? Of him loving her? Of him losing his hand for her?
Jaime didn't know anymore. What he does know is that the reason that kept his head above the water had long gone and he's been alone, sinking far too deep with no one to save him.
He'd save himself, but he doesn't wish to be saved anymore.
It's much easier to be the bad guy.