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The sun had already set and Jon had truly better things to do than watch Elle practising in the courtyard.
And yet here he was, leaning against a wooden pillar, following every movement of her arms, every step in the snow, every knife burying itself in its target.
Elle was a true master at what she was doing. Admittedly, Jon did not have a lot of experience nor knowledge with throwing knives, but the way she did it looked right. More than right. She flowed through the movements, not taking a single break between letting the daggers fly.
There was another thing Jon stared at. Another reason he couldn't bring himself to step away from her. And that was her hair.
Elle's hair looked dark brown at first glance. But when Jon looked closer he could see the roots appearing blonde, maybe even a lighter colour. Single strands throughout her braid appeared the same.
Had Elle dyed her hair? But why? Jon wrecked his brain trying to think of reasons for her to do this. He had heard that in the Free Cities - the place Elle had been born in - people coloured their hair as people in Westeros would their clothes. However, they mostly used vibrant colours like blue and green. So why choose a dark brown?
Jon wanted to ask Elle about it. Perhaps there existed an easy answer to all of it. But he knew he shouldn't. Sansa had lectured him repeatedly on what one could and couldn't ask a lady. And he knew that asking about hair colour certainly belonged in the latter group.
He felt silly for wasting so much of his time on this topic. It didn't affect him, and shouldn't matter to him. Still, there was something that-
"Would you like to try?"
The question ripped him out of his thoughts. Elle had her arm extended towards him, in her hand a simple dagger.
Jon opened his mouth, preparing to decline. He should, he knew that. But there was a part of him - and it wasn't small in any way - that wanted to spend more time with Elle. A part that wanted to be close to her. A part that wanted to touch her.
Jon hated that part of him, and yet he wasn't able to resist it.
His hand closed around the hilt of the dagger. "Sure."
The smile she sent his way before retaking her position before the target surely made his decision worth it.
Elle carefully walked him through each step, one after the other. She showed him the proper footwork, the way he was supposed to hold the dagger in his hand, explained how he was meant to throw it before actually allowing him to do it. But even after it all, he missed the target by a metre.
She chuckled at his frown. "Do not worry, you will get the hang of it eventually." She handed him another dagger. "You should have seen my first few attempts. It took a whole moon's turn to repair the palace walls."
"It's a bit hard picturing you being bad at this."
Her laugh made Jon forget the sun had already set. "Well, I have had seven years of practice. It is difficult not to be good at something after such a long time."
"How old are you?"
"Six and ten. Why?"
He counted the years in his head. "So, you started with this when you were only nine?"
She raised her brow at his bewilderment. "No, I started when I was seven, right after I had arrived in Sunspear. And do not act so shocked, boys start their weapon's training at the same age."
Jon blushed. "I- I'm sorry, I-"
"You do not have to apologise. I understand that you Westerosi view things a bit... differently."
He understood that as well. Dorne's culture was so very different to the rest of the continent, he was surprised this was the first time they had encountered some sort of topic to argue over.
Elle let out a breath. "Would you like to continue?"
He nodded in response and took up position again. But before he could take his shot, Elle gently laid her hand on his arm.
"Lift up your elbow a bit." She pressed his arm into position and Jon wished he wasn't wearing so many layers so that he could feel her skin directly on his. "And do not hold the dagger in such a tight grip. The goal is to lose it anyways."
Jon wanted to reciprocate her smile if he hadn't realised in this moment how close she was standing. With her hand on his arm, her blue eyes even more intense on such a short distance, and her lips so close to his.
He blinked, coughed, and looked towards the target again. Distractions were terrible, he knew, no matter what they distracted him from; his work, the target, the watch...
He missed the target by an even greater distance this time. Elle let out a short laugh, but pressed her lips together as soon as she saw his face.
"I am sorry, I am sorry. Perhaps I am not as good a teacher as my father."
"It's not that," Jon replied. But before he could explain himself (he would have failed), a voice sounded across the yard.
"What's the matter, Lord Snow? Need a little girl to show you how to use your sword?"
Jon glowered at the man standing by the stairs. William, if his memory didn't fault him, was one of the men lurking around Ser Alliser at meal times, and he was as much of a scumbag as the rest of his friends.
He prepared himself to retort something sarcastic, something he might have told Theon back in Winterfell, but Elle was quicker.
"Maybe you would like to show me then. I am sure you know a lot more about this than I do."
She batted her eyelashes at him, suddenly looking way too innocent for someone currently holding two knives in her hand.
William snorted and was about to turn away, but Elle continued.
"Please? I mean it. If you could show me some things, I would be sure to pay you back."
Was she implying what he thought she was? He wanted to be disgusted with her, but all he felt was a strange sense of jealousy.
A smirk spread across William's face. He strolled towards the weapon's stand and grabbed one of the longswords before taking a comfortable stand in the middle of the courtyard.
"What are you waiting for, little girl? Don't tell me you've suddenly become too scared seeing me!"
Admittedly, Jon had not known Elle for that long of a time. But he knew enough of her and how she acted that this sinking feeling that she had something planned did not go away.
He laid a gentle hand on her upper arm. "Elle."
She directed her smile at him and a shiver ran down his spine. "Do not worry, Jon. You will love this."
He seriously doubted it.
Elle went towards the weapon stand as well, but she did not grab one of the swords but a spear. She twirled it in her hand as she walked over to William.
"I hope it is alright if I use one of these," she said in a sickly sweet voice. "The swords are just too heavy for me."
"You can use whatever you want, little girl." He did a few slashes with his sword in response. "I'll go easy on you."
Elle got into a slight crouch, spear behind her back. "That sounds nice. Because I won't."
William wasn't even remotely able to respond in time as Elle jumped forward, thrusting out her spear towards him. She knocked his sword to the side, hitting his hand right afterwards, leading William to drop it with a surprised cry of pain. She raised her spear quickly, pressing its tip into the man's throat. A smirk adorned her face.
"I do apologise." Elle removed her spear from his skin, taking a few steps back. "I did not properly inform you of my talents. But perhaps, now that you do know, you would like to go for another round? I am sure you will defeat me this time. After all, you are a skilled swordsman, are you not?"
Her voice was laced with this sickly sweet tone again that Jon had never heard from her before this day. After all their interactions, he still knew so desperately little of her.
(Then why did he always feel like he never wanted to be with anyone else?)
William angrily picked up his sword from the ground and - much like Elle before - immediately went to attack without further warning.
But different to William before, Elle was prepared. She jumped to the side, jabbing her spear into his back while doing so.
Elle smirked, which appeared to infuriate William even more. He once again tried to run against her with his sword, but she jumped aside again. And so it went again and again and again.
She's toying with him, Jon realised. Elle had had several opportunities to disarm William and even bring him to his knees, but she had taken none of them. Even though the man's anger worsened his ability to fight, she just let him continue to exhaust himself.
Jon wondered what she would look like in a real fight. Because even now, when she was only moving around her target, he was almost in a trance looking at her. Her movements flowed so seamlessly into each other, each step taken as if she was dancing. The spear fit for her style more than any other weapon. Jon had half a mind to ask her to spar with him afterwards.
Elle had had enough of the fight, apparently, because in a series of moves too fast for Jon to follow, she had disarmed William and with a swipe of leg had brought him to fall. Jon winced at the loud thump as the body hit the ground.
Elle kneeled down on William's chest, one foot grinding down on his right arm. She leaned close towards his face and started telling him something, but it was too quiet for Jon to hear.
Finally, she cocked her head to the side, smiled, stood up, and walked towards Jon again.
"Is this why they let you stay?" Jon asked when she stood besides him again. He could see the chain of a necklace peeking up beneath her collar.
"They certainly did not obey Mormont simply by him asking nicely."
Jon looked towards William. The man had a sour look on his face as he tried to brush off the dirt from his clothes. He threw one last angry glance towards Elle before stalking off.
"What did you say to him?"
"Oh, nothing of importance."
Jon just wanted to turn towards Elle again, when his gaze got caught by a man standing on the parapets above the courtyard.
The man was none other than Ser Alliser Thorne, the bane of Jon's existence.
But he had to be imagining it - either the man himself or the look on his face. Because if Jon didn't know any better, he'd almost think Ser Alliser looked proud.
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