It was easy to fall for him. 

For his soft smiles and laughter that he could coax out of the most bullheaded girl, for his good looks and lean figure, for his silver tongue and plush lips. 

Once, you believed that he could love you as you love him. 

Love. 

You still did love him. 

Even after everything, even after you'd seen him at it with other girls, heard him parrot those same lines he'd use on you to the serving girls, seen hickeys that didn't come from you peppering his body, even caught an unfamiliar girlish scent off of him. 

You used to fight back. 

It used to be that you'd play the game with him. Coy smiles at Jon, demure tones with Robb, all to get a rise out of him.  You played the game as well as he did. It used to be fun for you. Until everything slowly began to take a toll on you. 

"I don't want to see you get hurt," Jon tells you. Ghost, the little runt of a wolf pup he was, asleep on your lap. You paused from running your fingers through the thing's soft fur. You'd thrown a confused look at him, to which he'd sighed. 

"This - whatever it is you're playing at with Theon," he explained, gesturing to you awkwardly, "I don't really mind but I don't really appreciate having him glare at me whenever we'd cross paths and not to mention that smug look-" 

"It's all fun and games," you assured your friend. 

Jon's hand rests over your own. For a moment, he's silent. And it's quiet, quiet enough for you to feel the soft patter of heartbeats. 

To this day, you couldn't quite discern what had happened. All you knew was that you were cradling Ghost and gingerly handing him over to Jon. Your soft footfalls as you ran back to the castle. Your burning cheeks from the cold or from him, you were unsure. 

You realized two things that day: the first, was that you loved him and the second, was that Theon had won your little game.