It started on a day like any other, when they played in the Godswood.

They were playing Knights and Maidens. Their game comprised of Jon and Robb, both aged four and ten; Sansa, who was three and ten; and Arya, who was only ten.

Sansa was always the maiden, and today was no different. Jon and Robb both liked being the knight that rescued her, but today they drew lots and Jon won, so Robb had to content himself with being his squire. Arya, as always, was the monster who captured the maiden. Arya loved to be the monster, she would hiss and growl and stomp her feet.

"Alas! Who will rescue me? Who will save me from this terrible monster?" Sansa cried dramatically. She was perched up in the branches of the Weirwood, her small slippered feet hanging daintily in the air.

"I will!" Jon declared. He turned to Robb. "Squire, bring me my sword," he demanded. Robb handed him a wooden sword, affecting a solemn air as he did so.

"Fear not, fair maiden," he said determinedly, "I shall rescue you." He marched up to the tree.

Arya jumped out of the bushes, her hair wild with leaves and twigs. "No you won't! She's mine!" She cried. She proceeded to wack him with the flat of her own wooden sword.

"Ow!" Jon yelled.

He raised his sword and backed away. Behind Arya, Sansa clasped her hands together and sighed forlornly, her big blue eyes focused on her 'knight' as he battled the monster.

Arya and Jon 'battled' with their swords until she dove forward and head-butted him.

"Oof! Arya!"

Arya stopped and straightened up. "what?" She said, looking peevish.

"You're not supposed to head-butt me. That's cheating!"

"Is not," she countered.

"It is," he insisted. "only swords. Nothing else! Right, Robb?" He turned and looked at his brother, who until then was just standing there looking bored.

"Right," Robb agreed.

"Are you going to save me or not?" Sansa huffed from the tree.

Jon bowed to her. "Of course, my lady. First I must defeat this scary, cheating monster!"

Arya hmphed in response, but raised her sword anyway.

"I'm going to defeat you. Then I'm going to eat her!" Arya growled.

Sansa gasped in terror.

Jon hit Arya on her backside with the flat of the wooden sword, and with an 'oomph', she fell over.

"I have defeated you!" He declared triumphantly. Arya growled at him.

He approached the Weirwood tree, looking up, where Sansa was holding her hands to her heart and smiling dreamily.

"My lady," Jon declared with a flourish. "May I help you down from the tower?"

Sansa giggled. "Why yes, you may, my noble knight."

He held out his arms. Jon was tall enough, and Sansa was small and light. She slid down from the tree and into his arms, wrapping her own arms around his neck and giving him an unexpected kiss on the mouth. When she pulled away, her cheeks were flushed and she looked rather surprised. Jon felt his face heat up.

"What was that?" He said without thinking.

Sansa giggled nervously. "A kiss. To thank you for rescuing me, of course. There's always a kiss in the stories."

"Right," Jon agreed without thinking.

He realized his arms were still wrapped around her waist, and she had hers around his shoulders. Yet he didn't quite want to let go, he didn't know why.

"Are you done yet?" Arya interrupted. "Or are you going to just stand there and be in love all day?"

Flushing even more, Sansa scowled at her sister. "Shut up."

Arya rolled her eyes. "Robb is gone back to the keep," she said.

Jon, ever the gallant knight, said, "my lady. May I escort you back to the keep?"

Sansa brightened, and offered him her arm. "Why, yes you may, good ser."

Arya ran ahead of them, always eager for her next adventure. Normally Jon would follow, but he was busily being a gallant knight. He and Sansa walked slowly out of the Godswood, her hand tucked into the crook of his arm and her bright hair brushing his shoulder.

Sansa always let down her hair when they played.

Jon couldn't get her kiss, however brief it was, out of his mind. It was his first kiss. He wondered if she knew that. Mayhaps that was why she looked so surprised as she pulled back. Oh, gods, was he bad at it? Mayhaps he was so bad at kissing that she noticed! Even though it was a mere peck on the lips.

"Is something wrong, Jon?" Sansa's voice interrupted his thoughts. He looked to see her watching him, a tiny furrow between her delicate brows.

"No, my lady," he said hastily. Normally he would call her Sansa, but he knew she liked playing at lords and ladies, the songs, the stories, and he had just rescued her, besides, so he would call her my lady until they entered the keep.

They walked on in silence.

"Are you sure?" Sansa spoke up again.

Jon chewed his lip, and debated telling her. She looked so distressed, for some reason.

Jon stopped. "Sansa," he began, and then faltered uncertainly.

Sansa let go of his arm and faced him. "Yes?"

Jon swallowed, and forced himself to look at her. She was so very pretty, especially with her hair loose, and her cheeks flushed.

"Why did you look so surprised?" He asked. "When you pulled away."

Sansa looked confused. "What do you mean?"

Jon bit his lip again. "When you.. Kissed me, and then pulled away, you looked surprised. Why? Was I that bad?"

Sansa blushed even more. "No," she said. "I was... only surprised at myself. I kissed you without thinking."

"You never give Robb a kiss."

"I know," she sighed. "Why are you so worried about whether you're bad at kissing? Surely you would know by now? You're already four and ten."

Now Jon blushed.

Sansa's eyes widened. "Was that.. Your first kiss? You've never kissed a girl before?"

Jon shook his head.

"But why not? You're quite handsome, and brave and smart like Robb. I even know a few girls that fancy you."

"Really?" Jon said, surprised. She thinks I'm handsome?

"Yes. But I won't say who."

"You never say who," Jon griped.

"Of course I don't! We can't have Robb strutting around with that big head of his, now can we?" Sansa laughed.

"I suppose not," Jon admitted. "He does tend to get rather full of himself."

"And I wouldn't have the same happen to you, good ser," Sansa teased.

Jon looked wounded. "I wouldn't!" He protested. "I wouldn't subject Winterfell to another large head, gods know Robb's is big enough as it it."

Sansa giggled. She looked very lovely.

"Shall we go, now, ser?"

"Of course, my lady." He offered his arm, and Sansa took it. She suddenly felt very breathless.

"It was my first, too," Sansa confessed.

Jon stopped. "Your first.. Kiss?"

"Yes."

He looked surprised. He really was very comely, she thought. Usually Jon looked quite solemn, but out here in the Godswood, he was free with his emotions. Outsiders who came to Winterfell, lords and ladies, guests, thought he was sullen, but he wasn't; he was just serious. It was only with his siblings that he smiled and laughed. He could be quite mischevious, at times.

Right now he was watching her with a peculiar expression on his face.

She blushed and looked down, feeling a bit flustered.

"I suppose it is time for our mid-days' meal," she said, to disguise the confusion she felt.

She started walking, pulling him along with her. He didn't say anything for the rest of the walk, and Sansa didn't know what to say. They separated at the keep; Sansa needed change and fix her hair. For the oddest moment, she wanted to lean forward and kiss him again. It was very confusing.

Mayhaps I should just stay in my room until it passes.

Mealtime, as always, was loud and hectic.

Arya loved to throw food when no one was looking. When she felt particularly daring, she aimed for Sansa's hair, and then Sansa would shriek with indignation.

Rickon was four. He was very picky with his food. He either hated it or couldn't get enough. Today, he hated it.

Bran was eight, and he loved to climb and run and jump. He was too energetic to be bothered to sit in his seat and eat his meal. His mother always kept a watchful eye on him to make sure he stayed and ate all his food.

Sansa and her friend Jeyne Poole sat together as always, their private talks punctuated by giggles and secretive looks. They were beside him. On his other side were Robb and Theon. They were the loudest at the moment, trading japes and laughing. Jon would join in, but he was too hungry to care about conversation. Saving a maiden's life was hard work.

"Jon?"

Jon blinked and turned to find Jeyne Poole's brown eyes looking back at him curiously.

"Yes?" He said cautiously. Jeyne was a silly girl who seemed to do nothing but giggle and point.

Right now, her eyes were pointed at him in a questioning sort of way.

"I was wondering," she said, leaning forward, "What does the phrase, 'a sword needs a sheath' mean?"

Jon was stunned. "What..." He said slowly.

Seeing his expression, Jeyne hastily said, "Theon said that phrase just today, before you arrived, and when I inquired as to its meaning, he said to ask you."

Jon turned around and gave Theon his best glare. Theon smirked back.

Jon turned back to Jeyne, and, he suddenly noticed, Sansa, as she was paying close attention to their conversation.

"Um," he said awkwardly. He looked around. "Ask Robb. Robb, Jeyne has an important question for you, courtesy of Theon."

Sansa chimed in, "I too would like to know what this means."

Jon almost groaned. Gods, please don't let Father or Lady Catelyn hear of this.

Robb looked very uncomfortable. Theon was trying hard not to laugh, it seemed. Jon hoped he would choke on his food.

"What is so funny, Theon?" Sansa demanded. He quickly attempted to school his features, but the look on her face sent him into fits of laughter again. Sansa glared at Robb, then Jon. "Well?" She demanded. Jeyne had a similarly annoyed expression on her face.

"Well," Robb began uncomfortably, "it's a... a... a dirty sort of phrase. One that young ladies shouldn't care to know."

"What does it mean, then?" Arya said loudly. Jon groaned this time. Of course Arya would be listening, and of course she would want to know the meaning of the phrase because it was improper for young ladies to know. They were never getting out of this one, now. Arya would badger them constantly until she found out, and then Lord Eddard or Lady Catelyn would notice, and want to know what was going on. And it was all damn Theon's fault.

Sansa, however, leaned back into her seat, looking slightly abashed. Jeyne looked frustrated, but went back to her food.

"Come on then, tell me. Why is Jon all red? Is it because of the secret phrase? Is it a secret? Do only you boys know about it?" Arya prattled.

"Arya, just eat your food," Sansa said sharply. Arya stuck out her tounge.

She turned to Jon. "Jon.." She wheedled. He shook his head. "No."

Arya huffed, then turned to Robb. "Tell me." She commanded. Robb glared. "No."

Arya looked at Theon, then. "You said it first, I heard you. You tell me what it means."

Theon smirked at her, then continued to eat his food.

Arya stood up. "Fine, then. I shall go ask Father."

Theon, Jon and Robb all stood up at once. "No!"

Looking smug, Arya sat down. "I thought so."

Jon glared at Theon. "You started it, go ahead. Explain it."

Now Theon looked uncomfortable. "Well..." He began, rubbing the back of his neck. "It means... A sheath, for your sword. A scabbard. Where you put your sword in. To carry your sword. You put a sword in a sheath. To carry it."

Arya didn't look convinced. "You're a liar," she declared.

"What?" Theon said indignantly. That's what it is. You put your sword in a sheath, to carry it around. I can't help it if you don't believe me."

Arya hmphed. "I will find out, eventually. I'm smarter than you, after all."

Theon rolled his eyes. "I'm sure you are," he said sarcastically.

Later, as Jon was wandering around outside, someone grabbed his arm just as he walked past an entrance. He whipped around, startled, but it was only Sansa. She looked slightly nervous.

"Sansa," he greeted.

"Jon." She whispered. She looked around, as though she were hiding from someone.

"Are you well?" Jon asked awkwardly. She was behaving rather peculiarly.

Sansa gazed at him. "Yes, I am well. I just..." She faltered. Jon waited.

"I just would like to know the meaning of the phrase!" She blurted.

Jon was shocked. Prim, proper, ladylike Sansa wanted to know the meaning of a dirty phrase?

"Why are you asking me?" He said, red-faced.

"Because Theon would tease me, and Robb would refuse to tell!"

"And what made you think I would tell you?"

"You are refusing then?" She said impatiently.

"Why is it so important that you know?"

Sansa exhaled. "Because, I would like to know something that isn't ladylike. For once."

Jon felt conflicted. He was in a rather tight spot. If he didn't tell her, she'd be angry with him and most likely go to Theon, and that was the last thing he wanted. If he did tell her, she'd most likely be horrified, and avoid him out of embarrassment.

Jon supposed anything was better than Theon.

So he told her. In a rather awkward, stilted way, without using terms to describe... Parts of the body. He wasn't sure if she would know what he referred to, because she was a young lady after all, but as her eyes went wide he realized, she did, in fact, know what a bedding was.

Her cheeks pinkened.

"A sword needs a sheath." she whispered to herself. Jon suddenly couldn't breathe properly, perhaps out of shock.

"Sansa!" He sputtered.

"Oh hush," Sansa said."Have we suddenly switched minds? Last I checked, you weren't a blushing maiden who cringes at anything unlady-like."

"Last I checked, you were," he replied, flushing. "Why are you asking about this?"

"I was just curious."

"You aren't going to tell anyone I told you this, are you?"

"I won't," she said assured him.

"Would you like to come to the Godswood? Robb and Theon and Arya and Bran are there. We could play Knights and Maidens again!"

"Alright," he said, albeit reluctantly.

She put her hand on his arm and looked up at him. "I won't tell anyone you told me, I promise.

"I hope not," Jon said. "gods, I can't believe I even told you. I regret it already."

When they arrived at the Godswood, the others were nowhere to be seen. Everything was quiet and still, save for their footsteps through the leaves.

"Where are they?" Jon said curiously. "I thought you said they were here."

"They were," said Sansa in obvious confusion. "I was with them just before I caught you. Mayhaps they all decided to go somewhere else."

Jon thought he heard something. "Hush," he said in a low voice. Sansa immediately stilled.

There it was; a crackle of leaves, footsteps, perhaps. Up ahead, behind a clump of trees. Jon stepped forward quietly, advancing toward them, cautious. Either it was their siblings playing a jest on them- and Jon doubted that, because it was deadly quiet and there was no way all his siblings could be this quiet when they were all in one place- or there were intruders, perhaps, or stray animals, or someone doing something they shouldn't.

"Jon," Sansa breathed. "Let's just go."

He shook his head silently. He continued to advance on the trees, Sansa following him. When he reached the tree clump, he darted forward, thinking to catch whoever it was by surprise, and he felt Sansa grab him just as he did so. What they both saw gave him pause.

It was Theon- Jon recognized that dark hair- and some girl, who he had pushed up against a tree. Her skirts were hiked up and he was settled between them, grunting and thrusting. The girl had her arms wrapped around his shoulders and her eyes closed.

Jon relaxed for a moment, and then he remembered Sansa.

She was staring with a sort of horrified fascination. Her cheeks were red, and she was breathing hard. Jon grabbed her hand and tugged her away from the sight, and she let him, because she was stunned.

He didn't say anything to her on the walk back, and neither did she. But she kept giving him strange looks, and when they reached the keep, she looked at him with big eyes and said, "I understand! That was sheathing a sword!" in an excited tone.

Jon stammered something about going to take a rest, claiming he felt weak, and took his leave.