I just wanted to give a little bit of background to the story. Two of my friends and I decided to come up with a story about various "Imagines" we found on tumblr. One included a Stark OC, a Lannister OC, and the third a Tyrell OC. This mainly follows the show but with a few twists here and there for our characters. I invented the Lannister (she doesn't not appear in this chapter) and my friends invented the Stark and the Tyrell. Also, I of course don't own Game of Thrones, but I think that's pretty obvious.

Chapter 1 Lydia

Making sure the shaft was completely straight, Lydia Stark drew the arrow back. It brushed against her face; she liked the sensation. Her boots sank into the North's snow. She held her breath, but for some reason she could still hear breathing. Ignoring it, she let the arrow fly straight and true.

And it certainly did fly straight and true –right into the beast's heart. Her sister, or rather half-sister, Arya whooped. Lydia lowered the bow and gave Arya a stern look.

"Be quiet, or you'll scare away the other animals," Lydia told her.

Arya, at only twelve years old, looked embarrassed. Her cheeks turned red, but it wasn't the usual redness of the cold. Lydia placed one hand on her shoulder and grinned at her.

"It's alright. That beast was plenty big enough for supper. We'll return tomorrow if we need more," Lydia said. "Did you see my posture when I let my arrow loose? Did you see how I kept my shoulders and how I spread my legs? It's all in the stance. If you want to be a master with the bow, you have to master the stance."

Arya nodded, and Lydia giggled, knowing that Arya was taking mental notes. Of her two sisters, she got along more with Arya. She was able to talk with Sansa and enjoyed her company, but she preferred the woods and preferred the open air to stuffy castle life.

"Why don't you ever challenge Robb?" Arya asked. "You could beat him in an archery match."

"Because Robb is father's first born," Lydia said, sighing. "It doesn't look good for younger sisters to outshine their older brothers." And bastard sisters at that. "Come on. We need to find the deer before it gets too far."

Arya nodded, and the sisters ran off into the wood.

Their prize was easy enough to find. It had ran to the frozen creek and died right on the shore. Lydia produced a knife from her cloak and began gutting the animal right there. Arya watched in fascination as her sister didn't even flinch at the blood soaking her hands. Lydia ripped the intestines out and dropped them in the snow.

"I want to hunt like that someday," Arya muttered.

"Next time I'll let you take the shot," Lydia said. "Here. Take that."

Arya's eyes widened when Lydia handed her a slop of deer innards. Lydia turned her face away from Arya to keep working, but she couldn't help but snicker.

"Don't let Septa Mordane see those hands of yours," Lydia said. "She'd die from the shock. I'll take the deer inside; you will escape to get cleaned up."

"Why won't mother and father let me be like you?" Arya asked. "They've never complained about you running off. They never cared when you fought the boys and won. They never cared about anything. But when I pick up so much as a stick, it's Arya this and Arya that and they won't let me do anything!"

"Don't worry about it. Mother tried to stop me too when I was your age."

"And what happened?"

"I showed her that it was part of me. That, and we came to a compromise. If I stopped challenging all the possible suitors, she'd let me continue with my fencing and hunting. Life is all about compromises. I know you don't like the Septa's lessons, but deal with them and mother will be much more forgiving."

Arya groaned, and Lydia chortled.

"What's wrong?" Lydia asked.

"I'm not made for the courts. I don't think I can come to a compromise," Arya grunted.

"Just do what Septa Mordane tells you to do, and you'll be fine. Make a game out of it. That's what I did. Tell you what; if you are able to behave at the next dinner, I'll challenge Robb in an archery match and you can see him lose for once."

Upon hearing that, Arya lit up and giggled. Then Lydia told her that they needed to get back. Lydia slung the deer over her back (it had been made lighter after she gutted it) and Arya trotted behind her, awed by the way her sister was able to move just like any man. The trip through the forest was brief, and soon they saw the towers of the castle.

Winterfell's castle was large and looked grim to most, but for Lydia, it was home. The fortress was grey, but it was strong and nearly impeachable. Their banners, the head of a direwolf, decorated the walls. Even though deep down she knew she wasn't a full Stark, Lydia couldn't help but feel a sense of pride when she saw her father's sigil.

"Get yourself cleaned up, and then go to Septa Mordane. She should be having a lesson with Sansa," Lydia told Arya.

"Okay, but don't forget your promise!" Arya said and then ran off.

Lydia watched her go and had to smile. Silly Arya. She was just a child and yet so determined to prove herself. She went on, starting to feel the weight of the animal on her shoulders. As she came closer, people started noticing her and pointing. She didn't care; let them talk. But the damn deer was getting heavier with each step. Just when she thought it was too much for her –

"Watch it!" It was Jon and he took the deer from her.

"Hey! I was fine!" She said angrily.

"What would happen if Lady Stark saw you with that?" Jon asked her.

Jon Snow was supposedly her bastard brother, but only their father, Lady Stark, and Robb knew that he was in fact her twin brother. The two didn't possess an ounce of Tully blood in their veins, but they looked like Starks. Both had thick curly black hair and grey eyes, features common amongst the Starks. Jon and Lydia never talked about their relationship, sworn to secrecy. Not even Arya knew the truth.

"It's a nice kill, though," Jon said. He trudged forward, and Lydia followed. "Did you take Arya with you?"

"Naturally. She wouldn't leave me alone," she answered.

"Lady Stark is going to be having a talk with you, I daresay. She wants Arya to become a lady, not a huntress," said Jon.

"I've already spoke with Arya about it. I know what Mother thinks," Lydia said without thinking. Then she winced. Lady Stark was not her mother. She had been raised as her daughter, but deep down, she knew very well that Lady Stark was not her mother.

No one knew who Jon's and Lydia's mother were…except their father, and he made a point to never talk about her around Lady Stark.

Jon and Lydia took the deer to the family's butcher. The butcher's, a large and beefy man, eyes widened when Jon threw it on the table. When Jon smiled at him and motioned at his sister, Lydia did a curtsey worthy of any highborn lady, and the two made their exit.

"It's Bran's archery lesson," Jon said. "I'm to give my support. We'll see each other later."

"Yes, of course. I have a lesson to attend with Arya and Sansa anyways."

They went their separate ways, Lydia heading toward the tower and hurrying up the many steps until she arrived. Before entering, she wiped her hands clean on the under parts of her skirts and smoothed her hair. Then she entered and curtsied before the Septa.

Her half-sisters, Sansa and Arya were busy with their needlework. Sansa looked less like her sister than Arya, having taken after the Tully side of the family. At only thirteen years of age, she was considered beautiful by most, the flower of Winterfell. Her hair was auburn and hung around her shoulders. Her eyes were startling blue, and her height already matched Lydia's. Her hands were small and delicately moved the needle around the cloth to create something lovely. Arya, on the other hand, was small and skinny. At twelve years old, she showed no curves of becoming a woman. She looked more like a boy than a girl, not that Arya minded. Her hair for once was placed on her head in a series of intricate braids, but normally it hung around her shoulder in a tangled mess. Arya looked more Stark than Tully. She was like an animal, like the direwolf present on their house's sigil.

"Fine work, as always. Well done," Septa Mordane, an elderly woman who had been serving House Stark for years, said to Sansa.

"Thank you," Sansa said, gazing proudly at her stitching.

Lydia took a seat and produced her own stitching.

"I love the detail you managed to get in the corners. Quitebeautiful…" Septa Mordane went on. She went on complimenting Sansa, but Lydia blocked her words from her mind.

She glanced over to see Arya stabbing her needle into her fabric like it was an enemy on the battlefield. Arya had never been very good with her needlework, but normally she wasn't like this –

And that's when she heard it.

Laughter and the sound of arrows flying and landing in their targets. Bran was having his archery lesson, just like Jon had said. The window was large and they could hear every part of the lesson. Arya kept sneaking peeks at the window. Septa Mordane didn't notice a thing, wrapped up in her compliments of Sansa's work.

"Careful of your hand," Lydia whispered as Arya barely missed skewering her palm.

Arya glared at Lydia and kept going with her needlework. A sword was definitely easier for her hands to use, Lydia thought.

Roaring erupted from outside, startling Arya out of her stitch once again. The boys were groaning and laughing all out at the same time.

"And which one of you was a master marksman at ten?" The deep and commanding voice of Winterfell's Lord, Eddard Stark rang out. "Keep practicing, Bran. Go on."

Lydia couldn't hear anything after that, but she assumed that Robb or Jon was giving Bran advice before his next shot.

"I'm better than Bran," Arya said haughtily and continued stabbing her piece. "I should be down there. I don't belong here."

"Then show them," Lydia said mischievously. "See that? There's a bow on the wall. Take it down and show them what you can do. Think you can hit the center from here?"

"Of course I can," Arya snapped.

"I don't know…" Lydia grinned. "It's awfully far. I know you've gotten good, but do you really think you've gotten that good?"

Lydia knew her sister well enough to know how to push her buttons. She knew Arya was good. She knew that Arya was capable of great things, but she just had to get under her skin enough…

"I have! And I'll show you!" Arya said and dropped her stitching.

"Arya!" Sansa shouted.

But Arya wasn't listening. Instead, she ripped from the wall the decorative bow and readied the arrow. Septa Mordane was absolutely livid and made her way for Arya.

"Put that bow down –" Septa Mordane began.

But it was too late. Arya let the arrow fly. Lydia also dropped her stitching and ran for the window. The looks on the boys' faces were priceless –not even House Lannister could buy them. Robb's mouth was hanging open, and Jon looked around to see where the arrow had come from. Arya's arrow had landed perfectly in the center of the bull's eye. When they finally looked up, Arya had the nerve to give a little bow. Lydia burst out laughing, ignoring the Septa's glares at her back.

"Arya! Is that any way for a lady to behave?" The Septa cried and yanked Arya from the window. "You haven't made a dent in your embroidery, and you go off firing arrows and –"

"I agree," Lydia said loudly. Arya stared at her, betrayal in her grey eyes. "Arya isn't focused today. I think it best to let take a break for a few minutes. She needs to get her mind back. There's no use in just wasting time."

"My apologies, Lady Lydia, but this is the time your mother assigned for –" Septa began.

"I know, and we truly do appreciate all you do," Lydia said quickly. "But come now. Look at Arya. Besides, she'll have to fetch a new cloth anyways. Look at the one she was working on."

Lydia pointed at the piece of fabric that could have been mistaken as a spider's web. Arya had thinned it down so much.

"I'll go with her. We'll get a new one, and Arya will cool off," Lydia said. Before Septa Mordane could argue, Lydia bent just a little to kiss the plump woman on the cheek. "Thank you very much, Septa. Come, Arya."

And Lydia took Arya's hand and they left the tower. Once outside the door, Arya burst into laughter.

"Don't cheer," Lydia said sternly. "You'll blow our cover."

"That was amazing!" Arya said.

"Firing a perfect shot isn't the only part of being a warrior, Arya. You have to know how to speak in a way that suits you," Lydia said. "For that, manners are important."

"But manners lessons are still boring," Arya complained.

"I'll let you escape," Lydia said. "You'll have to face Father later, but he's easier to talk to than Mother. He won't be angry."

"Thanks," Arya said gratefully.

When they got to the out of the tower, Bran was below waiting, and he lunged himself at Arya. Arya shot one last glance at Lydia and ran for her life. Bran, though smaller, gained on her.

"Run! Quick, Bran, faster!" Robb yelled.

"Go! Arya, go!" Lydia yelled after Arya.

The two vanished from sight. Lydia went to stand with Robb and Job. Robb Stark was the firstborn. He was everything a first born needed to be –serious, stern, but also kind and full of a sense of duty. His hair and eyes also matched Lord Stark's, but he had the handsome features of a Tully. He was always dressed in black and adorned in wolf fur.

"You had Arya fire the arrow," Robb muttered. "You were behind that."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Lydia said.

"You're like Jon. I can tell when you both are lying," Robb said.

Just then Jon glanced up at the balcony where Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Stark stood. Lord Eddard was a man of middle age and a face lined from years of responsibility. Catelyn Stark was also middle aged, but she held herself in a way that Lydia knew she had to have been stunning when she was younger. Sansa had inherited her hair from her mother. She faithfully clutched Eddard's arm. Sometimes Lydia wondered how her father could have forgotten about his wife and lay with another woman. They just seemed so in love.

Theon Greyjoy, a man just a few years older than Robb as well as their ward, and Rodrik Cassel, an older man who was their master-at-arms, approached Lord Stark and began talking.

"I wish I knew what they were saying," Lydia said. "I hate it when Theon knows something I don't. He's so full of himself."

"You should be more forgiving," Robb said. "He's a prisoner here."

"Yet he eats at our table and is clothed and treated almost like a Stark," Lydia said. "I don't feel sorry for him. He's arrogant and a real ass."

"You'll know soon enough for he's telling Father," Jon said.

"Will I? I'm a woman. Father doesn't tell me everything," said Lydia.

"No, but I will. I'll tell you everything that Theon told father," Jon replied.

Then he and Robb began to gather up the arrows that never even made it to the target. When they heard more noise from above, they stopped what they were doing. They watched their father and Lady Stark leave from the balcony. They prepared themselves for when they would arrive. Within seconds, they were below, and Eddard was glaring –well, not glaring, per say. Eddard had never been known for his bright expression. Lady Stark stared fondly at Robb and Lydia but she cast a weary look at Jon. He stepped out of the way. Lydia loved Lady Stark –really, she was like her mother, but she hated it when she looked at Jon with those eyes.

"Lad," their father said, facing Robb. "Go run back and get the rest."

Robb nodded and went off to find Bran. Lydia glared at her father.

"What's going on?" She asked.

"A deserter was found," her father said soberly. "He left his men at the wall. He will be sentenced to death."

"For leaving the bloody wall? Gods, father, anyone would leave that stink pot," Lydia said angrily.

"Catelyn! Attend to our daughter," Eddard said.

Catelyn came and placed a hand on Lydia's shoulder and steered her away. Lydia shot one last glare at her father, but he didn't seem to notice as he helped the boys saddle up their horses.

"Your father is a very just man," Catelyn said. "He doesn't enjoy killing, but the laws are clear. A deserter will be beheaded."

Lydia said nothing to this, but she itched to. She knew her father was a good man, even if she didn't always understand his reasoning. Were the laws that important? Did the deserter feel the same zeal for the old laws as well?

"They should be back within a few hours," Catelyn said. "When they arrive, supper will be ready."

"I think I know what we're eating tonight," Lydia mumbled, but Catelyn didn't catch what she was saying. "Go find Arya and make sure she's clean. I don't know what got inside the girl's head to fire that shot, but she needs someone she admires to teach her. She looks up to you, Lydia."

"Right," Lydia said. "Don't worry. Arya is fine. I was like her too when I was younger, if you'd recall. There's still time."

Catelyn looked doubtful and sighed. Lydia hugged her quickly and left to try and find Arya.

When the men did return, it was nearly supper time as Catelyn had said, but supper was pushed back when they came bearing gifts –seven gifts.

"Father!" Lydia gasped.

"I want one!" Arya gasped.

Eddard, Robb, Jon, and Theon were all struggling to keep at bay six wolf pups. But these wolf pups were larger than average wolf pups. They were direwolves, howling and barking. Bran held his pup secure in his arms, a smile on his face.

"A pup for each of the Stark children," Theon said. Then he nudged Jon. "And one extra for the bastard."

Lydia reminded herself to punch Theon after supper for his remark. Just then, Sansa came running toward them, carefully holding up her skirts so they wouldn't drag in the mud.

"Oh my!" Sansa gasped. "How lovely! Do we all get one?"

"I'll tell you what I told your brothers," their father said. "You will feed them yourselves, you will clean up after them yourselves, you will raise them yourselves, and if they die, you shall bury them yourselves."

For once Sansa and Arya agreed on something; they both squealed in delight and went to choose their pups. Sansa immediately attached herself to a pure white pup, sprinkled with grey and with blue eyes. Arya took a while to choose hers, but the first one that licked her face stole her heart.

"This one would be good for you," Jon said and handed over a pup to Lydia. She took it from him.

"How do you know?" She asked.

"Because I know you better than anyone here. Trust me on this one," Jon said.

"And which one is yours?" Lydia asked.

"This one," Jon said and held up another pup that looked nearly identical to the one Lydia had in her arms. "The twins of the batch. I thought they'd be perfect for us."

Lydia didn't know if there truly was something tying her to the direwolf or if it was just that Jon had selected it for her, but when she looked into the pup's eyes, she couldn't help but fall in love with the beast. Like Jon's, it was a runt, but that didn't put her off in the slightest. Its fur pure white, like the fallen snow of Winterfell. She liked that; even if she left Winterfell (which she had no plans on doing) she could always remember the white when she looked at her direwolf.

"What will you call her?" Jon asked.

"A name is serious," Lydia said. "I can't just name her on the spot."

"Well what do you think of when you see her?" Jon asked.

"The snow," Lydia said without thinking. "I think of Winterfell. I think of Father. I think of our family's sigil. And I remember what Father always tells us…"

"Winter is coming," they said at the same time.

Lydia froze and stared at a smiling Jon. They looked so much alike it was like she could see her reflection in his eyes.

"Call her Winter," Jon said. "Winter Wind. Because she's fast, that one. I can tell."

The wolf shifted, and Lydia saw her in a completely different light. Winter Wind. Her Winter Wind. The direwolf that her brother had chosen for her. She knew that she'd value the wolf all her life. She ran a hand through the thick fur and smiled down at her. Then she nuzzled the wolf against her cheek.

The following week the Stark children were met with some grieving news from their parents. Eddard called for a special family meeting to announce the death of his dear friend and Hand of the King, Jon Arryn.

The next thing said though took them all from their thoughts of mourning.

"The King rides for Winterfell," Eddard said to them. "We must be ready for his arrival."

Lydia didn't normally become shocked, but when he father said that, her jaw fell open, and she, her brothers, and her sisters just stared. Then they burst into excitement, speaking of the royal family coming to the North and what that would mean for their family and for their future. Lydia wondered if they were riding as they spoke.

"Jaime Lannister will arrive too then," Arya said excitedly. "I hear he's the best knight in the realm!"

"Who cares about being a knight?" Sansa snapped. "Robert Baratheon has a son who is renowned for being the most handsome! He's a prince! I'll have to get ready!"

"Sansa, darling, they won't be arriving for a while," Catelyn said kindly. "When they come, we shall treat them with true northern hospitality. You girls will need to be ready to please with your embroidery and poetry. We don't want them thinking that we're barbarians up here."

"We're not barbarians," Lydia said. "If the fools of King's Landing can't see that, then I don't want to associate myself with any of them."

Then Lydia stormed out of the room as the rest of her family continued speaking of the royal arrival.