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Jon and I were inseparable as children, and adolescence had only made our bond stronger. Our trip on the Titanic was to be our final goodbye before my marriage, at my mother’s behest, to some rich man from far away that I cared not a wit for. That night aboard the ship, when he gave me that dreadful ruby locket, I thought I had gone mad. Rhaegar’s Rubies had been lost for decades. It was a priceless Targaryen heirloom and said to hold his heart’s true desire. As hideous and heavy as that thing was, the revelation of Lyanna’s portrait nestled inside, and from it Jon’s true parentage, was a gift to rival any gem. I had loved Jon penniless and nameless and he had loved me. Finally we were free. Flying. A few hours after midnight, the shuddering and the screech as we hit the iceberg brought us back to Earth.

The heart is all that matters. 

Jon + references to his heart when thinking of Arya. 

bonus: 

What do you know of my heart, priestess?

He was no true Stark, had never been one…but he could die like one. Let them say that Eddard Stark had fathered four sons, not three. “The Hand’s daughter.” Harwin went to one knee before her. “Arya Stark, of Winterfell.”