Come Raise Your Flag Upon Me

She had a sudden memory of the day Jon had returned to Winterfell. She had looked at him across the yard and not seen Jon Snow, the boy she had once called half brother, but just another man, come to claim her and what was hers. Mine, she had thought fiercely. Winterfell is mine, and you will not take it from me.

Strange how now she felt that same fierce- almost primal- possessiveness towards Jon himself. Watching those women watch him, she had wanted not to rush back into the keep, hiding behind her mask as Lady of Winterfell, but to walk into the training yard, dig her fingers into his sweat-slicked skin, kiss him, mark him. Mine. He is mine, and you cannot have him.