ONE:
Nimble fingers glided through the strings of the old wooden harp that sat in the dining room of Winterfell. The young girl strummed a familiar tune that eased her, a tune that her mother used to sing to her to help her sleep when she was a mare child.
The young girls red hair was pushed back into a simple northern style with her signature blue ribbon that her mother gave her holding it all together. The very same hairstyle that her older sister fussed over that very morning.
She assumed she was alone in the great dining room; where the only thing that could be heard was the tune of the harp but she was wrong.
Robb Stark watched from the doorway as his little sister played. It was not unusual to find his little sister here, playing the harp rather than brawling in the mud like Arya or sewing and doing the very best at being a lady like Sansa. Laila Stark loved to be at peace while playing so Robb didn't disturb her but a soft smile one that only his younger siblings could put on to his face appeared.
The young Wolf walked through the long hallways of his home of Winterfell. His thoughts drifted to his sister Laila. He was always worried about her and how vulnerable she is, with Sansa she would ignore anyone that would do or say anything to her while Arya would give them as good as she got, but Laila well she would take everything to heart and this worried her older brother greatly who knew he couldn't protect her or any of his siblings from the cruelty of the outside world.
Laila Stark unaware of her brother's visit continued to pluck at the strings to the melody adding words when she looked over her shoulder and was confident that no one was watching she let out her harmonious voice.
Little ghost, you are listening,
Unlike most you don't miss a thing,
You see the truth,
I walk the halls invisibly,
I climb the walls, no one sees me,
No one but you.
You've always loved the strange birds
Now I want to fly into your world
I want to be heard
My wounded wings still beating,
You've always loved the stranger inside…
Me, ugly pretty.
She hated signing in public but when asked to she would occasionally play the harp for her family or for visiting guests.
Oh little ghost, you see the pain
But together we can make something beautiful,
So take my hand and perfectly,
We fill the gaps, you and me make three,
I was meant for you, and you for me.
You've always loved the strange birds
Now I want to fly into your world
I want to be heard
My wounded wings still beating,
You've always loved the stranger inside…
Me, ugly pretty.
Laila loves her home, she loves her family but sometimes she wished she could travel somewhere, she could learn new music and meet new people or somewhere where the dragons used to live, they were her favourite stories when she was younger the ones about the Targaryen dragons, the fierce creatures that could kill any man with one breath of fire. It excited her to think something so powerful once existed. Something that could still exist well Laila seemed to think so anyway.
You've always loved the strange birds
Now I want to fly into your world
I want to be heard
My wounded wings still beating,
You've always loved the stranger inside…
Me, ugly pretty.
The young Stark stopped her playing once the words had melted off and became nothing.
The harp looked lonely and sad as the twelve year old walked out, Laila was the only person who played it anymore. A baron women named Mary taught her how to play. At the beginning her mother hated the women that taught her daughter but when she heard Laila play and the smile she would beam at her family, she suddenly didn't care about the mysterious women, all she cared about was her daughter's happiness and if playing the harp brought this happiness then so be it.
Sometimes she missed Mary she thought as she walked through the vast hallway that lead to her lessons with Septa Mordane. She missed the stories she would tell, she would even dare to say they were better than old Nan's.
Laila absolutely detested sewing lessons but was not as obvious as her baby sister Arya was. Sansa was by far the Septa's favourite student and it irked her that her work was at the same standard as Sansa but she was the one that gets praised.
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Laila sighed as the Septa gushed over Sansa like she was one of the gods. The red head could hear the whiz of Arrows in the courtyard and would much rather be out there. She had not once picked up a sword or bow but surely anything was better than being ignored.
The stitches in her red direwolf were immaculate even her toughest critic her mother would agree, yet here she was being left aside for Sansa, she could understand why Arya would be, what with her grey Direwolf's head an unusual shape and the normally pointed ears were floppy and sewn on the wrong way.
Like always though Laila didn't say anything, she didn't raise her voice like Arya would she just sat timidly and continued with her sewing.
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Ned Stark along with three of his sons, his ward and some of his most trusted and loyal friends rode back to Winterfell.
In Robb, Jon, Theon and Brans arms were fury little creatures that were in awe of approaching buildings.
Ned could not believe he let them take those pups home. Cat will have his hide.
As they approached the stables he caught sight of his second eldest daughter, sitting on one of the stone walls next to the stables, she had a book placed in her lap no doubt about the Targaryen's dragons.
At the sound of horses the young Stark looked up to see her father and brothers entering the keep.
The book was long forgotten as she ran up to them, helping little Bran down from his horse. It was only after everyone was down did she notice the fur balls in their arms.
"What are those?" the soft words escaped her mouth as she pointed her finger out at the pups in Robbs arms.
"Dire wolves" authority coated the voice of Ned Stark as he told his daughter the rules of which they were allowed to keep the pups. His daughter listened intently to his words and was glad when he stopped as she feared she may go cross-eyed.
"Which pup would you like sister?" Robb asked
Laila looked at each pup, it looked like Bran had already chosen his pup as had Robb and Jon.
Out of the remaining pups one stood out. In Robbs arms next to his chosen one was a red direwolf.
'How Strange' Laila thought 'A red direwolf' well not all red she mused. The snout was pure black and its eyes were green much like the black fur ball in Theons arms.
The pup looked up at her and it was like an instinct, she reached her hand out and the pup gave it a warm, wet lick.
Laila giggled. 'Yes this is the one'
Robb handed her the pup who Laila easily saw was a girl. One look into the pups green pools and she knew what to name her.
Accalia the she-wolf.
Q&A
Question of the day: What do you think about Laila's character?