𝐎𝐧𝐞

Elora was still staring at the ceiling of her room, the fireplace cracking at the end of their bed. She lifted her head a bit and took a look at Sansa, who lay on her side, facing away from her twin.

It had been a bad habit for both Catelyn and Ned to let the twins share their bed since they were suited not to hurt each other while sleeping. Now neither could sleep without the other.

But now, Elora was scared. Not of the dark, or for the small snowstorm outside her window. She was scared because she did not want Jon to die. She was not sure also what it meant to die, but the Septa had told her that it meant that someone would leave forever, and never come back, no matter what, and Elora did not want Jon to leave.

It was the start of the second week when the boy still was being separated from her, Sansa, and Robb, and she felt really sad that she could not see him during her meals or during their studies time.

Rubbing her tear-stained face, she pushed the furs from her body and slowly made her way out of the room, and faced the endless corridors of Winterfell. So she carefully walked the hallways, her hand on the wall as she moved. Elora passed the corridor that led to the kitchen, then she turned left. After a few minutes, she was standing over her father's solar door, and the light passing under it could only mean he also couldn't sleep.

Ned rested his head on his hand, thumb and pointer finger rubbing a spot on his forehead as he read the letter — until a soft knock came from the door, and he gave tired permission to open it. What he was not expecting was to see his five turns old daughter pop her head inside the room, face red from crying.

"Elora," he got up from his chair, making his way to her, the papers long forgotten as Ned leaned down a bit and picked her in his arms. The red-haired girl wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, head resting between her father's neck and covered shoulder, while the man rubbed her back soothingly. "Bad dream, sweetheart?"

She shook her head, as Ned sighed, sitting back on his chair, as her small hands were wrapped on the furs of his coat.

"If you do not tell me what upsets you, I can not help," he said after a while, the side of his chin resting on top of her head, and he could hear her sniffles.

"Is Jon going to die, father?" Elora asked and Ned's hand stopped, then he moved to get himself in a better position as he pulled the girl from his embrace and stared at her vibrant blue eyes, cleaning away the tears in her cheeks.

"We have to pray for the old gods to give him strength," was the only thing he said, because he also did not know if Jon was going to make it out of that, he could just pray and hope.

"I do not want Jon to be alone. Why I can not go see him?" And Ned furrowed his eyebrows at the question, his hands now holding hers.

"Who said you can't?"

"Mother," at this answer Ned could only sigh once more. He should have known. Then he stared at the teary eyes of his daughter, who was still staring at him with a heartbroken look he did not expect a child to have, one that he would never want to see on her face again.

Then he brushed her untamed hair out of her face.

"Remember that one night you came here to ask if you should follow the Old Gods or the Seven?" He asked, and Elora nodded, not understanding where her father was coming from. "Remember what I told you?"

A few months back Elora had been in a temper, one that not even Catelyn understood where it came from. It was not until one evening when Ned sat on the godswood — not praying, he just needed a moment to recollect his thoughts — that his youngest twin daughter stood awkwardly at the side.

When he mentioned coming closer, she finally told him what was on her mind at that time. The Septa's lessons about religion were not to her liking. Oh, how different his youngest was from Sansa, who acted like a proper copy of their mother.

And Ned wanted to laugh. What a 5 turn old girl would even know about religion, but as she continued to unload her distress to him, Ned had to just stare and ponder. While he did build a Sept for Catelyn and the Septa herself could go and pray, they were still in the North, and in the North, they followed their old gods.

He too found silly the concept of the Faith, even if he grew up with Jon Arryn and Robert Baratheon. He did not need to to pray for a singular entity, he just prayed. He prayed for the winds that hit their skin and shook the leaves of the trees, for the smells he felt from deep in the forest of the Keep, for the water that ran around him and fell from the waterfall when he went to the hot springs. The Old Gods were around everything, and to see his determined little daughter so adamant about this, he sat her down on the rock beside him, and they prayed.

He had never seen Elora so at peace.

"That I should do what I think is right," she answered his previous question, and Ned nodded.

"And do you think it is right to go see Jon?" When the girl nodded, he smiled, nodding his head. "So why don't you grab Whitefoot and we go see him?"

Elora almost tripped off her father's lap while she started running, barely slamming the door open as she stalked after the black cat with one paw of snow-white fur. Ned held his laugh as he stared back at the papers, deciding to throw them in the locked drawer of his desk. It was something he might need to go to the Godswoods to ponder, and he now wondered if he should bring Robb and Elora with him.

When the girl came back — tears now long forgotten — with the cat trying to make his way out of her strong embrace, Ned pocked the key and grabbed the cat by the back of its neck, then held it against his chest, allowing Elora to hold his free hand, guiding her to Jon's chambers.

It was a sight, the Lord of Winterfell cradling a — very small cat in his enormous figure — and holding his daughter's hand, both with extreme carefulness. When he opened Jon's door, Whitefoot wriggled out of his embrace, jumping on the little boy's bed and walking to lay on his chest. The act did not surprise Ned, after all, it was he who started to feed Whitefoot when he was a stray, to eventually lead him inside his family's hold — but it was obvious he much rather be with Jon than anyone else.

Elora walked in slow footsteps, the image of her pale skinny brother, a white cold towel on his forehead as he lay still in his bed was not a pretty sight. She felt her eyes tear up once more as she moved closer to him, whispering Jon's name, hoping that maybe he could wake up only by that. Elora tried the best she could to sit on the small bed of his — a lot smaller than hers — room.

Whitefoot purred on the boy's chest, his eyes closed, and Elora wanted to take him off Jon's chest, but Ned stopped her.

"It is good for the cat to be with him, they can help heal any sickness," he assured, and Elora just stared back at her brother. She was scared, and she did not know what to do. "You can hold his hand if you want. Talk to him, maybe it can help him. If you feel like it, you can pray."

And Elora shook her head, grabbing Jon's right hand and bringing it to her mouth, placing a small delicate kiss on it, and she started talking.

She talked of everything she had done the past few days, the lessons, the weather, what Whitefoot had done. It warmed his heart even more when Elora told her unconscious brother how much she had missed him.

Ned looked back at the door after hearing a small shift behind him, only to stare at the other mess of red hair. Robb looked like he hadn't had a blink of sleep, and he stared confused at his father and sister.

Sometimes Ned wondered how Elora and Sansa were the twins when she and Robb acted so much alike. Robb and Elora were both bold, and they did not hold back when something was on their mind, which made them also quick to anger, but both of them had a big heart that could only rival each other.

And just like his younger sister, he had decided he needed to see Jon.

Ned placed his hand on Robb's shoulders, guiding him further into the room, then grabbed a chair for the boy to sit.

He could only smile at the three, because for the first time in very long, he felt hope that Jon could make it out, as long as he had them by his side. And he left the room when Robb was the one who started to tell his brother a story.

And that was when he found them again the next morning after maester Luwin had called him. The maester told him he went to tend to Jon when he saw his youngest with his eyes wide open, but not moving because he didn't want to disturb the sleeping Elora by his side and Robb on the armchair in front of him.

Ned wanted to laugh because that did sound like Jon, and maybe it had been what he needed all along. When he arrived, there Jon lay, and his smile grew when he could see Elora now trying to brush the mess of curls of Jon's hair as Robb was happily telling something to them, while swinging an imaginary sword.

It was an image Ned had to let be engraved in his head because one of his worries finally left his shoulder. After all, in his mind, the letter of King Robert summoning him to battle against the rising rebellion on the west island was still fresh.