You straightened your back and swallowed the nothing in your throat away. Your hands were trembling a little while you gently grabbed Jon's cloak and draped it over his shoulders.
"Thank you, my lady." Jon turned around gracefully and his soft lips pressed a tender kiss on your forehead. He looked calm, way too calm for a bastard who was going to fight the most important battle of his entire life.
"Please, be careful." You whispered, not capable of keeping the trembling from your voice. "Lord Bolton has tortured this land for a long time and I'm certain he has a few tricks ready for you. Don't fall for them." Your shaking hands were holding his cloak for a short moment and Jon curled his fingers around your wrists.
"I was not planning on not coming back to you." His raw voice sounded a lot stronger than you felt and you wondered if you were probably more nervous for this entire fight than he was. "Preferably with my brother by my side." He bent his head and his forehead was now touching yours.
You knew that there was no way to ever change Jon. Even though you and Sansa had tried to convince him that Rickon was as good as dead, he kept on believing in a happily ever after.
Or maybe he was just trying not to lose his only motivation to be happy that death had not been the very end for him. Or maybe he was just trying not to lose hope, like everyone else who had once lived in Winterfell had already done.
"I have to admit that I am afraid that probably we'll lose both of you tomorrow." You bent your head and Jon shook his head while taking a few deep breaths.
"There is no shame in fear, my lady." His hands rubbed your upper arms and for a moment the two of you just stood there, enjoying each other's warmth and embrace while it was still possible.
"Are you afraid?" You looked up at him and your eyes met his. You had never been able to read his glance, but the frown on his forehead seemed deeper than usually.
"Yes."
Although you wouldn't admit it out loud, you were relieved to hear that.
By being afraid Jon had just admit that he realized he had something to lose. He could lose you. He could lose his brother. He could lose his sister. He could lose the castle that had always been his home. And he could lose the second life he had gotten.
And people who had something to lose, fought harder, better and survived longer.
At least, that was what you were trying to tell yourself.