You had woken in the early hours in the morning, your body sincerely aware that it was missing something. With a frown clouding your expression, you rolled over- only to find Jon had disappeared.
You sat up promptly, gathering the sheets close to your nightgown and blinking the sleep out of your eyes as you quickly scanned over the room. No, not here. Softly releasing your disappoint in your breath, you slip off the bed onto your feet and glimpse around you awkwardly, looking for something to wear- to your surprise, two woven baskets lay at the door, with a note strung atop one of them. You slowly approached and plucked away the note, immediately cringing in the face and already blushing today,
"I thought my girl might want something fresh for the morning, so I took the liberty to get one of our guards to move some of your things in this morning- you can do the rest, my dear. -Father"
Evidently your heated connection had been noted by your eager father. You laid the note down with a chuckle and immediately spotted one of your favourite pieces to wear- a cuirass cutting off at the chest, adorned with lavender flowers all the way down to the thigh of one of the legs, where it cut off with black leather and shreds of chainmail. The two large blackened iron pauldrons sat atop your shoulders, leading down to some gripped hunting gloves that covered your arms. A truly beautiful, flexible attire.
As you finished getting changed, you heard the early clinking and grunts of combat, and swept over the bed to take a look out of the window. Overlooking the main courtyards of Winterfell, it showed all of the outside area within the city's refines, spare the Weirwood tree. And down in the training yard, combatting ferocious as ever with a dummy- was Jon. Of course, you had to join him.
It took almost no time for you to holster your beauties- two curved blades with a wicked glow from the gems adorning the handles; both sharpened beyond reason. You spread the window wide, and hopped out, hanging onto the edge as you looked around for a good way down- you pressed your far foot against an out-lying brick on a rough pattern to the side of the window, and used it to boost yourself across to this section of wall. Scaling down a few metres, you lept atop an overhang below, before sliding off and rolling down onto the ground.
It definitely caught his attention, and he stopped his training, to stare quietly;
"Where did you learn to... climb like that?" You rolled your eyes at his ignorance of the things you had discussed yesterday, "Remember the nightmarish land of constant war I come from? Survival skills are pretty much a culture, Sir Snow." He chuckled low in response, resting some weight on the hilt of his blade as he spoke,
"What are you doing out here so early, my lady?" He asked politely, and your response was just as quick, "I could ask you the same question. You know, if you wanted real training, you could've woken me." Wrapping his hand around the hilt subtly, his response was smug, "Didn't want to wake such a beautiful, peaceful figure." He was right in thinking that his flattery would put you off guard- and at that he brandished longclaw and swung-
Naturally, you threw yourself back and landed, crouched, on the balls of your feet, before sprinting back at him with a leap, whipping out Violet and Mercy, and getting straight into combat. You were both careful- every strike was made an inch short of the body, but was still deflected either way- only a few cuts and bruises were to come out of this sparring.
You had been fighting for 10 minutes or so, both sweating and yet remaining an unrelenting force to the other- until Jon made a slip-up, and you took it as your opportunity to end the fight. You booted his hand in a roundhouse kick with a nasty crack, knocking Longclaw across the courtyard before planting your foot on his chest and knocking him to the ground, moving in your blades to restrain his neck. You were proud, until you saw his smile- and felt the Earth fall beneath you too. Your blades were long gone, and he was soon atop you, pressing your wrists into the dirt and looking as arrogant as a humble man can be.
But he wasn't done. He leant closer to your face, his smile irresistibly charming- before quickly uttering, "I think I should secure this fight-" and jabbing his hands into your sides, tickling you mercilessly. Your laughter soon turned into painful yelps from the intense sensitivity of these attacks, and it was only when a tear formed in your eye and you had given up trying to fight back that he sat back, swung himself onto his feet, and retrieved long-claw. You did the same, but where you turned to the main doors to gather for breakfast, he lingered back, looking at the dummies he had been fighting with presumably hours before.
"Are you not coming for a morning meal?" You softly asked, "You can't fight the day through on nothing, Jon."
He hung his head- facing the other way, you couldn't have seen his expression, but you knew he was fighting with the thought. "I think I'll stay out here a bit longer. I need to know I'm ready, my lady. I'll see you later on." Though it saddened you to hear him pushing himself to the brim like this, you understood how he was feeling. Nodding slowly, you turned to the dinner hall, focusing on your father, but unable to forget the great times you'd had with this northern warrior already.