Jon,
No matter what I said as a child, I always thought of you as a brother. I'm sorry I said those things, they must have hurt, even though I could never tell if I got to you or not. I truly regret them, each and every one.
I'm writing this in case I die here. I think that Joffrey's going to kill me, and I wanted to tell you some things before he eventually does. I'll give this to Tyrion, or to Varys. They'll get it to you one way or another.
Father should have legitimized you. You would have been a wonderful Lord, and Winterfell would have been better for it. Mother wouldn't let him, but she was simply jealous, that's all. Jealous of your mother, whoever she was, for making Father forget his vows.
I was jealous too. Whenever you would get a hint of Father's attention, I would try to snatch it up. I feel horrible for it, even though I know that my regret won't make it any better.
I think that the Night's Watch is a good place for you. Uncle Benjen seemed to like it, and you'll have a family there who won't care that you were bastard born. I don't care that you are, not anymore. I hate that I once did.
I love you Jon. I haven't said it much, I know, but I really do. I miss you. We're all that's left now; a silly though, almost. The bastard and the bitch are all that's left of the noble Stark family.
Strange. I suppose I should wrap this up now. Goodbye, Jon. I love you, and I hope that you'll forgive me.
Your sister,
Sansa