Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at

http://download.archiveofourown.org/works/930554.

Rating: General Audiences

Archive Warning: Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: Gen
Fandom: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Character: Arya Stark, Jon Snow, Robb Stark, Sansa Stark, Catelyn Stark, Ned
Stark, Old Nan
Additional Tags: Family, Bodyswap, ASoIaF Kink Meme
Stats: Published: 2013-08-17 Words: 3370

A Change of Perspective
by Rumaan

Summary

Life is turned upside down when Eddard Stark's four oldest children wake up in each
other's body.

Notes

Written for ASOIAF Kink Meme. The prompt was as follows:

The boys wake up in their sister's bodies and viceversa. (preferably Jon trades with Arya
and Robb with Sansa, but up to you).Robb and Arya are overly curious and touchywith
their new found anatomies and Jon and Sansa are mortified of their siblings attitudes.

Bonus points for Sansa-as-Robb is pathetically rubbish at sword play, Arya-as-Jon being
overtly excited and weird out at her mother's ugly looks at her, Robb-as-Sansa wants to
throw himself out the window at Septa Mordane's lessons and Jon-as-Arya absurdly happy
at Lady Catelyn being a mother to him.

I mainly went with the bonus points.

Many, many thanks to poppyxxxx from Hawthorn and Vine (Dramione.org), for stepping
in and betaing this piece for me even though she had no idea who the characters were.

Disclaimer: The wonderful world of ASOIAF belongs solely to GRRM. I'm just trying to
give the Starks a little bit of happiness.
A piercing scream woke the majority of Winterfell castle just as day was dawning. It seemed to
come from the maiden quarters, so Catelyn stumbled sleepily from bed, touching Neds shoulder
as she went, and made her way down the corridor to where her daughters slept.

She peeped into Sansas room first; she was more likely to scream than wild little Arya, but her
eldest daughter was fast asleep, so she proceeded to the next bedchamber. There she found Arya,
staring into a beaten silver mirror. She was running her hands all over her face, pinching and
tweaking her cheeks, chin and nose.

Arya? Whats wrong? Catelyn asked.

Her daughters head whipped around and she cringed slightly as Catelyn came into the room.

What is it, sweetling? she asked, a frown at her daughters unusual actions.

Nothing, Lady er Mother.

Did you have a bad dream?

Arya hesitated slightly before nodding.

Catelyn pulled her little daughter into her arms and stroked her hair. She was surprised at the stiff
posture of her youngest daughter. But just as she was about to comment on it, the skinny little
arms went up around her neck and latched on like a barnacle. Catelyn was even more perturbed
when Arya burst into tears. Hush, sweetling. Nothing will harm you here.

An incomprehensible answer was muffled against her shoulder, but the tears continued to flow.
Arya must have been terrified to behave in this manner. She was not one to cling to her mother in
this manner. She manoeuvred them over to the bed, disentangled her daughters arms, and slid
them both under the furs.

Come, sweetling, try and go back to sleep, she said, brushing Aryas messy hair off her face,
giving her forehead a kiss before hugging her close. Catelyn began to sing a lullaby,the one that
worked in soothing all her children back to sleep when they were babies. Aryas eyelids began to
droop, but not before she gave Catelyn such a look of gratitude it was almost pathetic.

She must have had a truly terrible dream, Catelyn thought as she enjoyed the closeness with her
second daughter.

-----------

Sansa woke with a jump as her door was kicked open.

Get up, you lazy worm! Jory Cassel shouted as he ripped the furs off her.

She jolted up and tried to drag her covers back. How dare you! she protested. You wait until
my father hears about this, hell have you dragged into the yard and whipped.

Instead of the cowering response she expected, Jory put his head back and roared with laughter.
Aye, he will, will he, my Lord? Who do you think sent me, Ser Slugabed?

Lord?

No one had ever mistaken her for one of her brothers before. Arya, maybe, but not her, with her
long red hair and graceful figure.
She looked down at her hands and jumped as she saw how large and masculine they were. She
lifted her rescued furs up and nearly fainted at the sight that greeted her. Blood infused her face as
she was faced with parts of the male body she had never thought to see until her wedding night.

You have five minutes, my Lord, to be in the training yard before my uncle has you cleaning all
the practice swords.

Jory slammed the door behind him as he left, and she clambered out of the bed, face held
deliberately high to try and stop any further glimpses of scary appendages and ran over to the
mirror hammered into the stone wall. The face that looked out at her was a male version of her
own. Somehow shed turned into Robb.

She was struggling to make sense of Robbs wardrobe when the door banged open again. She
leapt behind the dressing shield, peeking her head around. It was Jon, her half-brother. Whilst she
might keep her proper distance from her fathers bastard, Robb was as thick as thieves with him,
and she might as well utilise that to help get her clothed.

What are you wearing? Jon asked, amused.

She looked down at the tunic and trousers she had haphazardly put on. Whats wrong with it?

You are wearing the new clothes Father bought you to go and train?

Sansa couldnt help the perplexed look she threw her half-brother.

Jon narrowed his eyes. Sansa?

She jolted before laughing nervously. Have you lost your mind? Sansa? Im Robb, remember,
she said, attempting her brothers blustery humour and knowing shed failed at the sceptical look
Jon threw her.

Her half-brother marched over to the wardrobe, and she couldnt help but notice that he was a lot
more confident in Robbs supposed presence than he usually was in hers. She had never seen him
swagger like that before.

Here, Jon said, before chucking her some items of rather grubby, sweat-stained clothes.

Im not putting those on. They are filthy.

Oh, this is going to be so entertaining, Jon crowed in a manner so unlike him that it was Sansas
turn to narrow her eyes. If this had happened to her, then it was possible it could have happened to
more of her siblings and Jon never crowed. Her little sister on the other hand

Arya?

Her little sister burst out laughing. Yep! she said, spinning around. Isnt this fun? No more
Septa Mordane, and I get to fight. Actually fight without being told that its unladylike or Mother
dragging me off to sew.

Sansa paled. Oh, seven heavens, she was expected to fight. She had never held a sword and had
no desire to. This is awful, she said, her voice trembling.

All this did was increase Aryas laughter. I wish Robb were here so he could see the tears in his
eyes. He would be mortified. Speaking of Robb, her degenerate little sister said, her voice
dropping to a whisper, have you had a look?
Arya! she screeched, scandalised. Of course not! Sansa could tell from her sisters smirk that
she had not had the same scruples. Youre disgusting!

Arya shrugged; it was a mannerism so ingrained in her sister that it was strange to see it on the
much larger, manlier shoulders of her half-brother Jon.

She rubbed her eyes. I think Im getting a headache.

Do hurry up, Sansa. I want to fight, and I am being made to come and chivvy you.

-----------

Robb was ready to explode. This was the dullest work imaginable. He could hear the swords
clanging outside and, every now and again, a shriek that sounded suspiciously masculine. From
the brief glance he had managed on the way to the maidens solar, Sansa was currently residing in
his body. He had hoped that it would be Arya at least, not because he favoured either of his
sisters, he appreciated their very different qualities equally, but because at least Arya knew one
end of a sword from the other. He had a horrible suspicion that the shrieks were emanating out of
his mouth.

Sansa, how is your flower garden coming along? Septa Mordane asked, startling him out of his
reverie.

He looked down and grimaced. The majority of the embroidery was lovingly done with
beautifully small, neat stitches. The colours had been perfectly blended, creating something that
looked like it belonged in southron lands. The few stitches hed added, mainly when Septa
Mordanes beady eye was trained on him, were large, clumsy, and had nothing in common with
the rest of the piece.

Are you feeling okay, Sansa?

Trained as he was for strategy, Robb saw his way out. He put a theatrical hand up to his brow and
moaned dramatically.

I didnt want to say anything but my head aches, and my eyes hurt in the light, he simpered, he
hoped in the manner of Sansa.

The look Jon-as-Arya sent him wasnt impressed, but apparently it was enough to fool the old
Septa.

Oh, sweetling, why didnt you say anything sooner? Why dont you go back to your
bedchamber, and Ill ask Maester Luwin to come and bring you a tea for your head.

Robb jumped to his feet quickly, a little too quickly if the rolled eyes Jon sent his way was
anything to go by, so he staggered a little, putting his hand on the wall as if to catch himself.

I think I should go and make sure Sansa gets to her chamber safely, Jon said.

The pursed lips Septa Mordane sent Jons way summed up how fond she was of the youngest
female Stark. Go on then. But I do realise that you are looking for a way to escape sewing.

Jon said nothing but put his skinny arm around Sansas shoulders and led them both out of the
room.

What was that? he asked, as soon as they were out of earshot.

Did you see the stitches I set? Sansa is going to kill me. Besides, I was going to throttle someone
if I had to remain there any longer. And I want to see how training is going.

Jon smirked. At least Arya is masquerading as me.

Robb groaned. I dread to think how badly Im fairing with Sansa in control.

Race you to the bridge, Jon said before sprinting off with Robb in hot pursuit.

----------

Jon got there first and skidded to a halt when he saw Lady Stark already standing watching
proceedings down in the training yard. The tightness around her mouth didnt bode well, and he
dropped his head, looking to slink off before she noticed him. Her tongue could be sharp and cruel
when the mood struck, and Jon wasnt willing to open himself up to one of her barbs.

Arya! she called, and it took him a moment to remember that he was currently residing in his
little sisters body.

Mother, he replied, turning around to face her.

Lady Stark looked deceptively stern, but he could see the affection in her eyes, probably because
it was an alien expression where he was concerned.

Why are you not with Septa Mordane?

Sansa wasnt feeling too well, so I helped her back to her chamber.

Shouldnt you be making your way back up the solar now then?

Jon grimaced and Lady Stark laughed before beckoning him closer.

Come, I know youll want to watch the lads train. Its not always easy being a girl in this world,
and you have it much harder than Sansa.

He didnt know what to say in response. What realistically Arya would say? Lady Stark had never
shown any understanding of his favourite sisters wild nature and inability to behave like a little
lady before.

But then again, Jon thought, its not as if Im in her confidence.

He was startled by a chuckle coming from Lady Stark, and she put an arm around his shoulder.
Silence, Arya?

He relaxed into the warm motherly embrace, enjoying the unconditional parental affection. The
most he usually got was a pat on the back from his father. He had tried to stem his jealousy of his
other siblings who had had this their whole lives, but he found it hard. He rested his head on Lady
Starks shoulder and wished once more that he wasnt a bastard and he knew who his mother was.

They stood like that for a long while, Jon paying no attention to the sparring going on in the yard
until Lady Stark tsked, I dont know what is wrong with your brother today, but hes allowing
Snow far too many liberties.

And just then, he remembered how his life really was. He wasnt one of Lady Starks children; he
was the bastard of Winterfell. The outsider who was a reminder of Eddard Starks one lapse in
honour, and his lady wife was never going to forget the slight.
Jon stiffened and pulled away, but Lady Stark didnt notice as she was already putting her arm
down and picking her skirts up. Well, as nice as it is to spend time with you, Arya, my duties
arent going anywhere, and neither are yours. I think its time you returned to Septa Mordane.

He nodded, keeping his eyes low as they had filled with tears, one slipping down his cheek as
Lady Stark kissed the top of his head. He heard her skirts rustle against the stone as she moved
away.

He ignored the hissed Jon! that Robb called out, looking to get back to his... no, Aryas
chamber as quickly as possible. He certainly didnt want Robb to see his tears; hed never hear the
end of it.

-----------

Arya was the happiest shed ever been. Spending her day sword fighting and practicing her
archery was everything shed dreamed of. No more sewing, no more Septa Mordane, and, more
importantly, no more comparisons to Sansa, her perfect sister, highlighting everything that was
wrong with her.

Instead, it had been Sansa whod struggled, whod felt the wrath of Rodrik Cassel. Well, really, it
was Robb, but Arya shrugged. It was still Sansa in their eldest brothers body, and, for once, it
had been Arya who had been praised whilst Sansa was chided.

She swaggered her way down to the Great Hall for the evening meal, hoping that she would never
have to become Arya again. In Jons body, she could do all that shed ever wanted. Going south
and becoming a knight wasnt her ideal - that was Brans dream - but maybe she could travel to
the Free Cities and join one of the mercenary bands. Fighting her way across Essos sounded like
much more fun.

Whistling a jaunty tune, she wasnt paying any attention and bumped into her mother. Her larger
frame made Lady Catelyn stumble.

Oh, sorry, Mo Lady Stark, she said, catching her slip at the last minute. I didnt see you
there.

Arya withered under the ferocious glare. How dare you? Lord Stark may allow you room here
but remember your place.

She recoiled at the venom in her mothers voice before bowing her head and stuttering out an
apology. Her mother swept past her, and Arya kept her head low, hiding the tears that had welled
up. She knew how much her mother resented Jon, they all did, but she had never given thought to
how Lady Catelyn interacted with her brother before.

Arya balled her fists, her blood boiling at the injustice of it all. It wasnt Jons fault that he had
been born a bastard, and it wasnt fair that he should be punished for it. He was her best brother,
the one who would sneak her treats when she had been sent to her chamber in disgrace, the one
who had taught her to fight with a sword despite her mothers disapproval, the one who had made
Theon teach her archery despite the Greyjoys bitching.

Arya slunk into the Hall feeling unsure of herself for the first time in her life. Gone was her earlier
joy at being a man, and she wished she could return to her own body and her own life. Poor Jon,
she thought, and whilst she slipped into the seat next to him, she didnt dare give him the hug she
desired with her mothers beady eye trained on her. Instead, she grasped his hand under the table,
marvelling at how much smaller it was than hers.
Whats wrong? Jon asked her.

She flicked a brief but hesitant glance up at her mother, and Jon followed her gaze.

Ah, he said but left it at that.

And once more she found her heart breaking for her brother. He understood her so much better
than any of her trueborn brothers.

----------

Sansa ached. Shed never physically hurt like this in her life not even when she was learning
how to ride. Sitting on the wooden benches in the Hall wasnt making her life any easier. She
shuffled once more and winced when the muscles in her thighs twinged.

She jumped and let out a groan when she felt a foot connect with her shin, looking around angrily
only to meet the furious blue-eyed gaze of her brother. It was strange to see his steely gaze in her
softer face.

What did you kick me for?

Stop wincing and making me look even more of a fool than you already have.

I cant help it! It hurts!

Robb kicked her again. Stop it! she whined.

Try to remember that you are meant to be Robb Stark, heir to Winterfell, and not some mewling
little girl.

Sansa huffed. Im not a mewling little girl.

You gave a good impression of it in the yard today.

Thats not fair! she objected. I cant help it if Ive never held a sword before.

Before Robb could say anything else to her, Theon swept in and sat down next to her, slapping
her hard on the shoulder as he did so. She winced again but managed to stifle her grunt of pain.

Good evening, Lady Sansa, Theon said with a mocking bow of his head in Robbs direction
the one that always angered her when she was on the receiving end of it. I think you could have
given a better account of yourself than your big brother here today.

Sansa heard Robb mutter, I bet I could, before he simpered something about how fantastic Robb
usually was at sword play. It was Sansas turn to kick him. She was not a simpering ninny. His
impression of her was just as awful as she was in the training yard, and she would never give him
such fulsome praise.

Theon threw his head back as he laughed. I will allow you to say such things as natural affection
for your brother, but Rickon would have beaten Robb today. Sansa narrowed her eyes at Theon.
She hadnt been that bad. Stark, its true. The bastard made mincemeat of you!

The rest of the meal passed with brother and sister getting increasingly angry at each others
portrayals of their characters.

-----------
Ned sat in the light of the moon, cleaning his greatsword, Ice. He looked up, feeling the heavy
gaze of someone watching him, and he saw Old Nan standing a little way from him.

Is it done? he asked.

Yes, they will be back in their own bodies tomorrow.

My thanks, Nan.

She smiled before departing the godswood and leaving him to his thoughts.

They were mainly good. Hed looked to teach Robb to be more humble and the ribbing he would
receive from Theon Greyjoy and others about his swordplay would go a long way to stem the
arrogance that had been growing in his heir since his natural fighting ability had become obvious.

Sansa had started to become too obsessed with ladylike manners and courtly love. So hed tried to
show her how others viewed her, mainly in the form of Robb overplaying her character with his
simpering airs and graces.

Arya was a difficult one. The wolf blood flowed strong in her veins, and Ned found it difficult to
stem her wild ways. She was too similar to Lyanna in this, always preferring to be out fighting or
riding than sitting demurely in a solar, sewing. But he hoped that seeing that not everything was
easy for her brothers would make his youngest daughter appreciate being who she was and
become more comfortable in her own skin.

With Jon, Ned had the simple plan of giving him a day of motherly love, something the poor boy
had never had. He had originally been pleased to see how Jon sunk into Catelyns embrace,
enjoying the softer affection. But now he wasnt sure if he hadnt been cruel. Maybe it would
have been better if Jon had never experienced this than to have had it for so short a time.

Ned sighed. He worried about them. It wasnt easy bringing six very different children up.
Winterfell was isolated from the rest of the great houses, and the North had a different way. It
didnt make interacting with the southron lords easy. They would need to temper the weaker parts
of their characters in order to successfully face the responsibilities and duties they would face as
adults.

After all, winter was coming.

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