King Robert Baratheon's arrival in Winterfell flips Lynara Stark's world on its head. As the second eldest child and firstborn daughter of the union between houses Stark and Tully, can she protect her family whilst participating in jousts and many other unladylike activities no Lady should ever be a participant in? Follows HBO Game of Thrones with many ASOIAF characters and plots thrown into the mix. FAIR WARNING: DO NOT READ IF YOU FIND YOU ARE DISSAPOINTED IN HOW VERY LITTLE THE STORY CHANGES.

Lynara

The morning dawned and with it came another long and torturous lesson with the old and boring Septa; Septa Mordane, a woman who praises her favourite Stark daughter and reprimands the other two unfairly, for not showing any kind of Southron traits of their lady mother.

Lynara looked down at her stitching with a thoughtful frown, she had been working on her betrothed Domeric's house sigil; the flayed man, much to her Lady mother and Septas displeasure it was of a red man flayed of his skin on a white "X", which was, in turn, placed on a field of black. It wasn't necessarily bad but the stitches weren't perfect either, she let it lay on her lap as she continued to frown.

It had been two sennight since his last letter to her, after their departure from the Vale and going to their separate castles they had agreed upon seventh daily ravens. He was to send on seven days before now his last had said in detail of his love for her and his interest in meeting his newly discovered bastard brother Ramsay Snow, nothing has come since that letter and she couldn't help the bad feeling that settled in the pit of her stomach.

Domeric was only three namedays older than herself at nine and ten while she was six and ten; his father had suggested the betrothal when she was four namedays old, at one of many end-of-year harvest feasts that happened when the lords of the North gathered in Winterfell to further discuss possible future bindings of houses and Wildling issues to the North where they were a problem for the bannermen of the Starks nearest to the wall. Her lord father had agreed reluctantly to the match but with time came to accept it; he was willing to go as far as to send her to be fostered with Domeric in the Vale with Lord Redfort so they could properly get to know each other. Lynara had been three and ten when she was sent to the Vale. In the short time that they spent together they had quickly fallen for each other, she would say that it was not quite as romantic as one of Sansas many love novels but it was fairly close, he was quiet at first but courteous as a Southron knight, he often played his harp for her while she sang to the tune. He had surprised her on her four and tenth nameday with a light brown young mare, she had named Meleys for her heroine Rhaenys' dragon, Domeric had bought it from one of the markets they had been to he had seen her staring at the beautiful beast on more than one occasion and had known of her shared interest in riding rivalling him with her skills on horseback, had she been born a man Domeric said she would have made a fine knight, she had laughed at that throwing back that she would be better than any silly Southron knight. They spent their mornings together riding their horses and singing cheerful songs they had made up before they had to return for their duties in the castle. They spoke of their homes and family though he didn't have any siblings something he had dearly wished for, then he had discovered his bastard brothers existence when they had returned to their homes back in the North. Now he had not replied to her last enquiries.

She shook her head free of her wandering thoughts of her rosy past in the Vale with her sweet Domeric and focussed on her now bickering younger sisters trying so hard not to laugh as Arya dodged around their Septa and ran out the door while Sansa yelled after her. Beth Cassel and Jeyne Poole had no such restraint and their girly laughter could be heard in the corridor as she followed her sisters out while the Septa was distracted. Lynara let out a calming breath before she righted her skirts and was on her way to her chambers where she could change into something more comfortable, preferably Dom's old breeches he had given her after she had stolen them multiple times and one of her half brother Jon's tunics that he let her keep claiming it was too small anyway. Gods she loved her brother he tended to favour both herself and Arya for some reason, probably because they looked more like he did than Robb or Bran and Rickon, as well as they never treated him any different when they learnt the meaning of the word bastard. She stripped off the dress as quickly as she could before donning the prepared clothes she had layout on her bed. The tunic and breeches were still fairly loose on her body but they clung to her just enough to show her curves, he Lady mother hated it when she wore them but could do nothing to stop it. As soon as she was done she wandered over to her vanity and undone her perfectly done up hairdo and instead replacing it with a simple braid down her back tying it off with a leather cord, she smiled in the mirror nodding to herself in satisfaction before grabbing her ironwood bow from beneath her bed hidden from her mothers sight, slinging it over her shoulder and rushing out to the stables where the party had departed to execute the deserter. There wasn't any force in Westeros capable of stopping her from going not even her Lord father could do so. Her riding boots were already on her feet as she swung her leg over Meleys and mounted her kicking her sides and taking off out of the Hunters gate where the party could be seen not too far off in the distance having only just left before the lesson with the Septa had started.

Jon must've heard her as he turned his mount around halting the party to greet her with a grim smile, he always was better at hearing than their siblings. Lynara could see her father's disapproving frown along with the many others from the household guards and master of the Winterfell horses and his son, she also noticed her fathers ward; Theon Greyjoy, leering at her so she sneered at him and smiled down at her little brother who sat atop his small pony he just smiled nervously up at her. Her attention was drawn to her eldest brother, Robb who just shrugged off her appearance and saddled up next to her urging his mount on as their father had done.

"Come on then little sister, the deserter awaits," he said kicking his horse to keep up with their far too serious father Lord Stark.

She narrowed her eyes at the back of his head in a half-hearted glare, he knew she did not like being called little anything. Lynara hung back with Bran as they continued to where the deserter was to be executed.

The deserter didn't look like much, he was a scrawny thing with blue eyes and matted sandy brown hair and wore the usually boiled leathers and black garb of a watchman, and kept mumbling about the white walkers and the Others as he was dragged before her father. He looked up as he neared the block and Lynara could see the fear in the man's eyes as clear as day as he stared into her Lord fathers eyes as he spoke his voice wobbled and it was scratchy too.

"I know I broke my oaff, and I know I'm a Desert'ah... I shoulda' gone back to the Wall and warned them, but... I saw what I saw. I saw the white walkers... people need to know... If you can get word to my fam' ly... tell 'em I'm no coward... tell 'em I'm sorry..." is what he had said before he was forced to his knees mumbling an apology as his head was on the block. Her father put on his mask of the Lord of Winterfell as he pulled the ancestral Valyrian Steel greatsword, of House Stark, "Ice" from it sheath that Theon held out to him, gone was the jovial man who told grand stories of his own time in the Vale in his place stood the stone face Duty-bound Warden of the North. As he raised the Sword she could hear Jon whispering something to Bran but didn't hear what it was as she was on the other side of Robb who was next to Bran and too focussed on the proceedings.

"In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, first of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the realm, I Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North... sentence you to die..." Were the words spoken from Lord Stark as he lifted the great sword and with a clean and fast swing chopped the deserters head clean off his shoulders. The man's words were stuck in her head as she and her brothers turned to Bran, he hadn't looked away as the man died but she had noticed his flinch. She patted him on his shoulder lightly as Jon told him he did well before they were all back on their horses headed home. At some point, Robb had initiated a race and Lynara was never one to pass up an opportunity to outclass her brothers being the better rider even though it was only to the stone bridge.

They rode over the light snow-covered grass hills at speed leaving them in her dust as she was far ahead of them. She slowed down when she realised her brothers were no longer behind her, a frown found its way onto her pale face her Tully blue eyes shone with concern as she swung Meleys around in search of them when Jon bursts out of the tree line twenty or so feet away his face held a rare show of excitement as he reached her he was out of breath and grinning like a mad man.

"Ly'! come quickly, see what Robb has found!" The poorly contained excitement had leaked into his voice and he was practically bouncing in his saddle which was strange for her usually brooding brother. Before she could reply however he was off again headed back in the direction of the forest back over the bridge. She set her horse into a mild trot as to not spook the creatures in the forest as she followed her halfbrother over to the riverbank near the Northside of the bridge. The others it seemed were already there still mounted atop their horses, except Robb who was knee-deep in the heavier layered white snow, his wolf fur-lined hood was pulled back letting the sunlight hit his Tully red hair. He had something cradled against his chest in his arms, Jon and Robb had started to talk amongst themselves in excited hushed tones.

She and the others still mounted atop their horses made their way carefully through the drifts, groping for hidden, uneven ground. Jory Cassel the captain of the guard and Theon along with herself were the first to reach the boys. Greyjoy had started laughing and joking as they rode. Lynara snickered when his breath hitched and he breathed the word"Gods.", struggling to keep hold of his horse at what they could see. Her silent snickering petered off into nothing when her eyes landed on the animal carcass at their feet. Theon was struggling to reach for his sword and she had fingered her bow before thinking better of it.

Jory had no problem pulling his out and pointing it at the corpse his voice was commanding but shook as he spoke. "Robb get away from it!" his horse had reared beneath him as it too spotted the body.

Her brother just grinned at him looking up from the adorable bundle in his arms. "She can't hurt you," he said, "she's dead, Jory."

Lynara could see Bran itching to get a better look at what they were speaking of, by the time the rest of the party had reached them they; being herself, Jon, Theon and Jory had already dismounted with Greyjoy asking what the beast was.

"A wolf," Robb said dryly rolling his eyes slightly.

"A freak," Greyjoy said his voice laced with disdain "Look at the size of it."

It was a huge wolf half-buried in blood-stained snow, it was hunched in death. Ice had begun to form on its grey fur, and the faint smell of corruption clung to it like an old southron ladies perfume. Lynara could see the maggots crawling in its eyes, its teeth were large and yellow. Its size was baffling and she could hear her little brother gasp as he examined the corpse with his ten nameday old mind, the beast was nearly as big as her horse and Meleys was a very large warhorse.

"Its no freak," Jon said not withholding his disdain for the ward as he did "Its a direwolf. they grow larger than any kind."

Greyjoy said with his arrogant cocky tone "There's not been a direwolf sighted south of the Wall in two hundred years."

Lynara scoffed at the ward as Jon spoke with a light jab. "I see one now."

She groaned silently when Bran squealed as he spotted the bundle in Robbs arms. It was a pup that was like a small ball of grey-black fur in her elder brothers arms, its eyes were still closed, most likely having been born just before its mother's death Lynara shuddered at the thought of it happening as the beast died or even after it already was. The pup nuzzled blindly into Robb's chest as he cradled it, searching for milk among his leathers, it made a sad whimpering sound when it couldn't find anything. Lynara watched as Bran hesitantly reached out to pet it.

"Go on," Robb told their younger brother. "You can touch him."

Jon handed Bran one of the other pups after he had given the one in Robb's arms a quick and nervous pat-down it's back, Lynara heard him say that there were six of them, causing her to turn her attention to the other four that were still huddled against their mothers side for warmth, her eyes held her hidden eagerness to have a loyal companion like the Starks of old had before Torrhen Stark, The King Who Knelt. Her grey-blue eyes were drawn to a reddish-black ball of fur a fraction larger than it's litter mates, without realising she was moving Lynara was kneeling in the snow her gloved hands slowly wrapping around the pup as the others argued about what they were to do with them, Lynara brought the little critter to her chest as she rose to her feet meeting the eyes of her half brother who had not taken part in the argument until Greyjoy went to kill the one that Bran had held.

Robb was quick to the pups defence telling their fathers ward to put his blade away, "We will keep these pups." He had said his voice had sounded as commanding as their father when he had told Theon off.

"You cannot be doing that boy," Harwin said, Hullen's son.

"It'd be a mercy to kill them," Hullen agreed.

Lynara and her brothers looked imploringly at their lord father, but they only received a frown and a furrowed brow. "Hullen speaks truly, my son. Better a swift death than a hard one from cold and starvation."

She was having none of it and hugged the small creature to her chest as both she and Bran yelled "No!" She glared fiercely at her father who had all but forgotten she was there he flinched slightly at the look but not enough to be noticed.

Lynara's eyes were tinted red as she repeated herself. "No, I will not allow it. They are a sign..." her half brother caught on and added to it pleading with their lord father.

"Lord Stark," Jon began, causing their father to frown it was weird hearing her brother call their father by his title rather than Father, it was so formal. Lynara saw the desperation and hope in her little brother's blue eyes as Jon spoke. "There are six pups," he told Father "Three male, three female."

Their father frowned more. "What of it Jon?"

"You have six trueborn children," Jon said. "Three sons and three daughters. The direwolf is the sigil of your House. Lynara is right they were meant to have these pups, My Lord."

Lynara had stopped glaring at her Father when she watched his face morph from stern to melancholic to guarded. She knew what her brother had done by excluding himself, the count had come right. Lynara could see it click in Bran's head as well, he had even included little Rickon in the count, not he who bore the surname Snow, the name custom decreed to be given to all those in the North who were unlucky enough to be born without a name of their own.

It seemed their father understood as well "You want no pup for yourself, Jon?"

"The direwolf graces the banners of House Stark, I am no Stark, Father," Jon said pointing out the harsh truth.

Their lord father regarded Jon and herself thoughtfully and conceded after Robb rushed in to promise that he would feed it himself with Lynara and Bran agreeing with their older brother.

As they were leaving Jon had suddenly spun his horse around and dismounted trudging through the deep snow. He re-emerged with a grin on his face and a white ball in his arms, it was an albino and its red eyes were already open. Lynara likened its colouring with the weirwood trees of the godswood, with their bone white bark and blood-red leaves.

Eddard

The godswood was had always been a place of deep silence and brooding shadows, and the Gods were far simpler here in the North for they have no names that needed to be remembered to keep the faith.

Eddard would always seek the quiet of the godswood after taking a mans life. He sat on a moss-covered rock beneath the heart tree, Ice in his lap and a cloth that had been soaked in the water of the godswood cleaning the greatsword. A thousand years of humus lay thick on the godswood floor, swallowing the sound of footsteps as they approached him, he looked up when a voice called his name.

"Ned." It was the voice of his wife Catelyn, a woman he married for duty, a woman who now was the mother of his children and someone who now held his heart.

"Catelyn," He replied his voice was distant and formal, as it often was after execution or when speaking about important matters of the North. "Where are the children?" He questioned and watched as his wife's eyes softened, they were the same blue as their sons and one daughter who took after her colouring.

"In the kitchen, arguing about names for the wolf pups." Ned watched as she spread her cloak on the godswood floor near the black pool, her back was to the heart tree. His wife had never been comfortable in the godswood, having come from the south, where the godswood were different and so were the gods. "Arya is already in love, Sansa is charmed, but Rickon is unsure."

Ned frowned "Is he afraid?" he asked.

"A little," Cat admitted. "He's six Ned."

His frown did not dissipate. "He must learn to face his fears. He will not be a child forever. And winter is coming."

"Yes," She agreed. He saw her shiver when he said the words of their House, she always did when they were said. Even though she had been in the north for over a decade she was still very southron. He knew she had something important to tell him otherwise she wouldn't be in the godswood, so he knew that she was trying to ease his nerves with small talk on their children and Bran, he knew she favoured the boy but could do nothing to dissuade it as he often favoured his daughters, all of them reminded him so painfully of his little sister Lyanna. None more than his eldest, Lynara. He would go as far as to say that she was almost exactly like his sister with her constant desire to beat her brothers in all areas of combat that were practised in the North, and her love for riding.

They began talking about the deserter's mad ramblings and the happenings beyond the Wall. "Until this morning, no living man had ever seen a direwolf either," Cat reminded him.

A rueful smile made its way onto his face, "I ought to know better than to argue with a Tully," he said as he slid Ice back into its sheath. "You did not come here to tell me crib tales. I know how little you like this place. what is it my lady?" he asked.

His wife took his hand in hers, "A raven came from Kingslanding, the King rides for Winterfell, and another from the Dreadfort, Lord Boltons son has passed from an ailment. I am sorry my love but Jon Arryn is dead, and if I am correct in my assumption Lynara will be here soon to mourn her loss too." Ned furrowed his brow then his eyes widened in realisation and he was on his feet about to go and comfort his daughter when she came into the godswood tears tracked down her cheeks and a letter in her hand.

Lynara paused when she saw them then launched herself at him burying her head in his chest and crying. He hadn't seen her this distraught since she was a babe, she had always been the one to stay strong for those around her now with the news of her betrothed she was undoubtedly in pain. All of the inhabitants of Winterfell knew of the pairs love for each other, It was heartbreaking to see his little girl like this. "Dom... He-he's... He's... gone. And i-its my... my fault..."

Eddard frowned and tried to console his daughter, "It's not your fault sweetling, he was ill."

His daughter shook her head in denial. "No, he di-didn't it was his brother, he killed him. I know he did, it must have been... Dom' was fine and healthy and he wrote ev-every sennight until he met his brother. He wanted siblings, but his mother died and Lord Bolton didn't remarry. Then when we returned North he found out about his bastard brother," they both ignored Catelyn as she made to remark at that. " I talked about Jon and how close we are and he assumed his brother would be the same. I'm... He's dead and it's my fault..." She cried as Ned held her closer, from the little he knew of the Bolton heir he knew he was a good young man who was worthy of his daughter. Even if he reminded him of the man who had stolen his sister from him, with his mannerisms and habits the only real difference was that Domeric was of the North.

Ned wiped her tears and held her by the shoulders to get her to look him in the eyes. "It. Is. Not. Your. Fault." he told her sternly Catelyn had left to give them the privacy they needed, Lynara had always taken his words to heart. She sniffled and stared into his grey eyes when he changed the course of the conversation. "Have I told you of the day you were born?" He asked and she shook her head, her grey-blue eyes were still glassy with unshed tears and her face was flushed as she shook her head.

He smiled as the sat at the edge of the water when he began, "It was nightfall and the moon was high in the sky, with many stars surrounding it you were born under the light of the moon. It turned red when you came into the world, shining its holy light in through the window onto your skin neither the Maester nor your mother saw you when you came into the world. I did, you didn't cry, and you weren't breathing... you... I had thought I had lost you. I took you in my arms and no sooner had I done so you let out a breath and screamed your lungs out like any healthy young babe, but I always knew you were different. Special. My little miracle, My Lynara. The gods let you live, and you are here now, I was reluctant to ever let you out of my sight but you were growing up so I made a match for someone I believed to be worthy of you. If you do not wish to be married so soon after your betrothed's death I shall heed your wishes and hold off any offers until you're ready."

"What if I never want to marry?" She asked him her eyes were burning with determination, he wasn't sure if it was to not be married or if it was something else.

Eddard let out a long breath before he met her eyes again. "Then, that is your choice, sweetling. Come your mother has said something of the King coming here," he said as he led them out of the godswood and into the castle.