Jon Snow (Aged up)

You, Jon Snow, as the supposed bastards of Ned Stark, had never really been accepted by the Starks of Winterfell. Catelyn Stark despised you, and as a result, her children were distant.

Robb was a good friend, but you knew you could never be his brother. Sansa never saw you as anything resembling a brother, but she didn't exactly hate you. Bran and Rickon both treated you in the same way they treated Robb, seeing you as family in their naive youth. But the only one of the Stark children you really felt a connection with was the youngest daughter.

Arya Stark.

You were quite close to her. She was a bit of a tomboy. Where Sansa would sew, Arya would want to fight.

You had got the idea to make her a sword for her journey down to Kings landing. She'd always wanted a sword of her own, so you figured that it would make a pretty good farewell gift.

"Jon!" You heard behind you. You turned to see a Skinny girl with dark hair hurrying towards you. You smiled at Arya, as she jumped into your arms, wrapping her legs around your body and her arms around your neck. You hugged her back, before putting her down.

"What's the matter?" You ask her, as she pouts and crosses her arms.

"I wanted to learn to fight with Bran, but mother says I need to practise my embroidery." She tells you, clearly against that idea.

"You should do as your mother says." You tell her. You didn't need another reason for Catelyn to hate you, although Arya isn't impressed.

"Can you help me train to sword fight? Please? I promise I won't tell father!" Arya begged you. You sigh, and decide to...