It first happened when they were still kids, merely eight and eleven respectively. It was during the first snow of the New Year and she had begged and pleaded with their parents to let the two of them wander off alone into the white haze. Sansa spun in a circle, stretching her arms wide, taking in the wet, chill feeling of the snowflakes as they fell on her welcoming skin. Jon was still beside her, taking the wonder in silently, absorbing the wonder in through his nose and mouth and eyes through assimilation instead of seizing it.
She faltered in her step, pausing to watch her brother, who was suddenly ten-times more captivating than the white around her. His black hair painted with streaks of white, white flakes clinging to his lashes so that bits flicked off each time he blinked, arms crossed, shoulders squared, head pushed slightly back. His breathing was shallow but constant, and she could make out his chest rising and falling with each intake.
Before she knew what she was doing she was touching his face, brushing the edge of her thumb down he curve of his cheek. It was cool to the touch, but soft and smooth, not yet a man's. His eyes met hers, and instead of growing shy as she would have expected, a boldness overtook her. Rising to her tiptoes, she kissed that same spot upon his cheek, nothing more than a press of lips to bare skin but it filled her with a gentle warmth and a rush of satisfaction. Jon's eyes went wide and he opened his mouth to speak, but before he could she kissed him again, directly on the lips. It was chaste, a child's kiss, but it was still a kiss, and soon color found both their cheeks.
"Sansa," he scolded lightly.
She smiled cheekily, performing a small curtsy. "To celebrate the New Year." She left it at that, and he didn't press further.
That day they arrived home hand-in-hand, with cold skin and red cheeks, laughing together. Their mother frowned, but let them be.
This marked a new traditional, one the two of them shared until the time came when they could no longer call Winterfell their home. During her time away, she made a routine of standing outside alone every snowfall. She would close her eyes and think of him, of the brother who was now living in a world of constant winter at the Wall. She would feel the snow upon her lips and dream that it was his. Each night she would touch a finger to those lips and dream that it was his. Each night she would close her eyes and dream.