I

JON

Jon Snow can hear Lady Stark's cries all the way from the library.

He doesn't actually want to be here, not really. Maester Luwin insists that he and Robb learn to read just as early as they wish to learn all the exciting skills- such as horse riding and sword fighting. Jon is five years old, and the words still don't make a lot of sense. He doesn't mind, however, at the present time. This is not why he is here today.

No one would expect to find him in here, and it is completely empty, which is what makes the library so perfect. Two years before, he and Robb were scolded by a particularly nasty cook for mewling when they heard Lady Stark crying out then. Robb had been distressed by his mother's shrieks and had begun sobbing, and Jon had in turn become frightened that his half brother was upset, and of the dreadful screaming echoing through the hallways of the castle. Their lord father had eventually been called from his post outside his wife's chambers to handle the two small boys. Instead of being angry like the cook, he had pulled Robb and Jon into his arms and promised them that soon it would all be over, and a reward for their patience would be a new little brother or sister to play with one day.

Sansa Stark, after the initial bout of crying, was for the most part a delightfully quiet babe. She is now two years old and unlike what Father promised, she is not easy to play with. She doesn't like rolling around and wrestling, nor does she wish to hold a wooden sword so she can play battles with Robb and Jon. The men and women of the castle tell them that this is because Sansa is a girl, that when she is older she won't train with swords, but will learn needlework, and that one day she will be a lady and she will marry a lord. So instead, they decide Sansa can pretend to be princess, while Robb and Jon are the knights who must protect her.

Jon hopes the new babe will be a boy, because then he and Robb will be able to play with him properly. Not silly little games about keeping princesses safe, but real games where they chase each other through the courtyard and hit each other with wooden swords.

After a while, Lady Stark's cries cease, and Jon wonders if it is over, and if he has a new half brother. He contemplates coming out from under the table he has chosen as his refuge, but he stays where he is. He doesn't want to be shouted at for getting under everyone's feet as they rush round the castle. If the new babe has arrived, everyone will be attending to Lady Stark, and no one will want to see a bastard in their midst.

For two days, Robb, Jon and Sansa are kept away from Lady Stark's chambers. Sansa, who is only just able to toddle around on her short legs, follows the boys around constantly, crying out for her mother. The serving girls try their best to keep the children occupied, but to no avail. By the end of the first day, even Robb is starting to get upset.

'I want to see Mother,' he says, his bottom lip trembling slightly.

'Mother. Mother,' Sansa repeats. It's one of the six words she can say so far.

Jon doesn't know what to say. Lady Stark is not his mother. The only thing he wishes to see in the newborn, and he doesn't even know if it's a girl or a boy. No one has told the children anything yet. They break fast each morning together, hoping that Father will at least join them, but he doesn't show up. Even Maester Luwin is occupied, likely taking care of the weakened mother and her newborn child.

'Do all girls hate fighting?' Jon asks on the second night, after he and Robb had a make believe duel and Sansa had begun to cry, believing Robb's pretend death to be real.

'I don't want to marry a girl if all they think about are sewing and dresses and boring things,' Robb announces.

Jon doesn't want that either. It sounds awfully dull.

On the third day, Father finally comes to them. Sansa gives a squeal of delight and throws herself at him. Father leans down to hoist her into his arms and plants a kiss on her forehead. Robb and Jon come next, both clutching at their father's legs.

'I am sorry, little ones,' Father says. 'But your mother came down with a fever. She and the babe are well now; there is nothing to fear.'

'Mother,' Sansa says.

'Yes, child,' Father replies. 'You shall see your mother. She is expecting you.'

Robb is grinning from ear to ear, and for a brief few seconds, Jon forgets that Lady Stark will not want to see him. As Father sets Sansa down and her and Robb head for the door, Jon makes to follow them, before he stops and remembers how cold Lady Stark's eyes are whenever she looks at him. He doesn't quite understand why she hates him so, but he knows it's because he is not hers; he is baseborn. He doesn't quite know what that means exactly, but he knows he's not trueborn, like Robb and Sansa. He is only their half-brother. He doesn't have a mother to kiss him on the forehead and scold him for stealing food and exploring where children ought not to be exploring.

Father bends down to his knees so he is eye level with Jon. He places a hand on the boy's shoulders. 'Don't fret. You shall see the babe soon enough. I will make sure of it.' Father's words are gentle, and there is a smile on his face. He is usually rather solemn and withdrawn, but he is always kind with his children. Even Jon, his baseborn son.

Father, Robb and Sansa are already gone before Jon realises that he forgot to ask whether the babe is a girl or a boy.

'Jon.' There's someone whispering in his ear. 'Jon, wake up.'

Jon stirs and blinks rapidly, immediately confused. It is very dark and must be quite late, so he doesn't understand why he has been woken. He peers up at the small figure beside his bed.

'Jon,' Robb says again. 'Mother is asleep. They said she's been awake for too long, so she will rest a long time. You can come and see her.'

But Jon doesn't want to come and see Lady Stark. He only wants to see the babe.

'I don't think I should see your mother…' he begins.

Robb laughs. 'Not her. Our new sister. You should come and see her.'

Jon blinks. 'It's a girl?'

Robb nods. 'Come and see.'

And so the two boys sneak through the castle, hiding behind pillars when anyone comes their way. The air is cold, but when they stick to the walls, they feel the warmth of the hot springs beneath the castle surging behind the stones. It's not unreasonably late, but certainly late enough for the children to be in bed. If they get caught, they will be in a fair amount of trouble. A large portion of the household are exhausted from tending to Lady Stark over the last few days, however, and Robb and Jon successfully sneak through the castle undetected. It wouldn't exactly be the first time. They've done it before on several occasions, both at night and during the day, often to steal food from the kitchens.

They finally make it to Lady Stark's chambers and step inside rather hesitantly. Lord Stark has not come to bed yet, likely at dinner in the great hall, celebrating. Jon peers up at Robb's mother. She is sound asleep in her bed and rather pale. Father mentioned something about a fever, and that Lady Stark is recovering from it. Even when ailed, something about her frightens him. It's her eyes, always her eyes. The way they fix on him sometimes, they way they can morph from warm and loving when she looks at Father, Robb and Sansa, to cold and hateful when she casts them on Jon. But her eyes are closed now, and Jon hopes they stay that way.

'Look,' Robb whispers, pointing to the crib at the foot of Lady Stark's bed. They can't have a lot of time- a wet nurse is sure to come back in at some point to check on the babe. Jon steps closer and peers into the crib.

The first thing he notices is the hair. There's no sign of Lady Catelyn's Tully colouring in the babe's hair like there is in Robb and Sansa. Her hair is dark like her lord father's hair. Like Jon's hair. For one strange, terrible, yet wonderful second, Jon wonders if she is baseborn. He is five years old, and logic holds no value in his head yet. Never mind that Lady Stark carried the child for nine moons, never mind the fact that he heard her screams for hours on end just a few days ago. For a moment, Jon thinks this must be a baseborn child of Father's. Just like him. A bastard, he has heard people whisper. He doesn't like that word.

But that is ridiculous. If this babe were a bastard, Lady Catelyn would not want her in these chambers. She'd want the bastard out of sight in an instant, just like she wishes on Jon.

'She looks like Father, doesn't she?' Robb says softly. 'And you. I thought she was a boy at first. It's hard to tell with babes whether they're boys or girls. And she looks so much like you and Father that I thought she was a boy.'

Jon is soon distracted from Robb's excited babbling, lost in his little dream, where this little girl is just like him. The babe is swaddled in a white cloth and is fast asleep, and although Jon feels a small ounce of disappointment at her not being a boy, or baseborn like himself, he is strangely fascinated. He leans over the railing of the crib and reaches down with a tentative hand, wanting to touch the babe's hair, to make sure it is real and that she really does share his colouring.

And that's when her eyes open.

Jon freezes, hand hovering in midair. The babe blinks a few times before peering up at him, her eyes finding his own. The colour is hard to make out in the dim candlelight, but Jon imagines her eyes are probably pale like most newborns' eyes. Sansa had blue eyes when she was first born, although they did not change into something else, but remained blue like her lady mother and Robb's. Jon wonders if he had a different coloured eyes when he was a babe. He then wonders if this girl will someday have the same dark grey eyes as him.

He silently wills her not to cry. If she does, Lady Stark will surely wake up, and she will be furious to find him in here. She has never been happy to see Jon. He is not hers. He is not precious to her. He makes her angry, although Jon still doesn't understand why.

The babe doesn't cry, however. She simply watches him, before wriggling slightly in her cloth so she can bring one of her arms out. She then reaches up with a small hand and clasps Jon's forefinger with her own tiny, pink fingers. They look so small and weak, yet her grasp is tight and strong. Her skin is warm.

Jon lets out a breath he didn't even know he was holding in. 'What's her name?' he asks.

'Arya,' Robb replies. 'After our…' He pauses, trying to remember what his father clearly told him. '… great grandmother. From House Flint.'

Jon nods slowly. The origin of the name means nothing to him. The name itself is what intrigues him. 'Arya,' he says, testing it. 'Arya Stark.'

A small part of him wants to say Arya Snow. A small part of him wishes with all his heart that there could be someone in Winterfell just like him. A baseborn child, someone to share what he has yet to properly understand- that he is not like Father's trueborn children. He hears whispers about baseborn children, about bastards such as himself; that he will inherit no lands and claim no titles; that he will forever be looked at with coldness from Lady Stark, for he is not hers. He doesn't understand why. He's not sure what he did wrong.

Jon tries to imagine Lady Stark looking at this newborn babe they way she looks at him. And suddenly, it feels very wrong to wish something like that. He thinks of how the babe would cry and wish to be held by a mother, to suckle at her teats, to be given her love, only to receive icy glares and stony silence.

This babe shouldn't have that. No one should have that. Jon wishes he didn't, but he does.

Not Arya Snow. Arya Stark. Arya Stark, the trueborn daughter of Eddard and Catelyn Stark. Their third child together.

It matters not to Robb that Jon is a bastard. Sansa is too young to even understand that he is different. And perhaps Arya will grow up loving him. Perhaps she'll want to play with him, even if she is a girl.

With their eyes still locked on each other and newfound warmth in his chest, Jon feels his lips curving into a smile, which he sends down at his little sister. The babe stares at him for a few more seconds, almost as if she's taking in everything she sees before her and deciding exactly who Jon will be to her.

And then, just like that, with the skin under her eyes wrinkling as she squints and her chubby red cheeks curving into dimples, Arya Stark smiles back up at him.

My GoT tumblr: jonathansnowflake . tumblr . com

I imagine Jon and Arya have made each other smile countless times over the course of their childhood, but I wanted to pick five monumental moments.

It's about time I actually post one of my GoT fanfics and contribute to this fandom lol. This is also my first time using the five times/one time trope, which I get is usually a romantic thing. This is not a romantic fic. It's about sibling love. I am very, very passionate about these two, and if they don't actually reunite at some point in season 7 I will track the show runners down and stick 'em with the pointy end.

I want to depict possible happenings in their childhood, and a couple of canon moments mentioned in the books too. As it's focused on their childhood, there won't really be any references to the current events in the books or the show- until we get the last chapter, at least. I'm only on book two, but I've pretty much had the entirety of the plot to all the following books spoilt for me over the course of many hours (I mean, they're big books with a lot of content), especially Arya's plotline. I'll be sticking to the TV show ages of the characters, or near enough, along with the TV plot for the final chapter.

Thanks for reading, and remember to review!