"I look silly," Ysilla Royce said as her older brother, Waymar, flattened the leather hat on her head.

"You look quite handsome," her brother laughed. In fact, she was more handsome than he with fine brown hair and large blue-grey eyes. She stood a foot shorter than Waymar, but it never discouraged her from participating in playful duels or wrestling with him in the mud, much to her father's dismay. She shook her head, allowing the hat to slide off her smooth hair. It had been cut short for the trip, so short that if she didn't speak, she would pass for Waymar's younger brother. "What's the name again?"

"You're my squire Seth," he said as their horses trod along the Kingsroad towards Winterfell. He moved closer to his father, Sir Yohn Royce, a hulking man with grey hair and bushy eyebrows. "I'm not sure this is a good idea," he said in a low whisper. "The Wall is no place for a girl."

"It's much safer than home for now," his father said gravely. "There are whisperings of trouble in King's Landing. Jon Arryn was most insistent that I keep my family safe from what's to come."

"But how is she going to fare on the Wall? She's a girl!" Wymar said loudly. "And I really hoped that this would be my moment. I would be taking the Black and bringing honor to the House of Royce, not babysitting my little sister on the Wall."

"You're not giving your sister enough credit, son," his father replied, glancing over his shoulder at the girl riding behind them. "She won't be any trouble at all."

"Seth is a dumb name," she moaned. "Why can't I be named Robert or Gideon?"

"Because you're my squire," her brother grumbled. "And when we get to Winterfell, I don't want you to cause any trouble."

"I won't cause any trouble," she muttered under her breath as she rode behind them. She watched as her brother rode side by side with their father, dressed in the finest clothes, whereas she wore itchy trousers that barely fit her small frame. She wondered how stupid the men of the Nightswatch must be if they were fooled into believing she was a boy.

As they approached Winterfell, her heart sank into the pit of her stomach. She felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise and her mouth became dry. She turned her head towards her father, who gave her a quick reassuring nod before galloping ahead towards the gates.

"Well, what are you doing?" Waymar asked as he followed their father's lead.

Ysilla drew in a breath and followed slowly, cautiously. Her horse could move faster, she knew. She had never had a problem racing her brother through the fields but that was when she was still Ysilla Royce of Runestone. She must now ride behind her brother and father and tend to their needs as Seth, the squire.

She caught up to them at the gates and dismounted, taking their horses towards the stables where a large man lumbered out with a half-smile. Her eyes reached the blank face of the stableboy as he said, "Hodor!"

With her best male voice, which sounded like a low female voice, she lowered her eyes and said, "The horses need to be fed and stabled for the night, please." She bit her lip quickly. Do I say please? She shook her head and walked away, almost crashing into a boy with dark hair and a long face.

"I beg your pardon, milord," she said, looking into the green eyes of a Stark.

He took one look at her and laughed as he walked away. Did he see right through her facade? When he glanced back at her with a smile, she felt her cheeks warm all the way to her ears.

"Seth!" Waymar called to her as their father spoke to Lord Eddard Stark and Ser Rodrik Cassel, who both turned towards her suddenly with slight smirks on their lips.

Ysilla hurried towards them, tripping over her own feet and the uncomfortably oversized boots she wore. Her face turned red as she lifted her from the ground, her hands dirty from the mud. Her ears turned pinker when she saw Lord Stark's sons laugh at her misfortune.

She recognized Robb from her brother's description, handsome with auburn hair and light eyes. She also deduced that the two younger boys, who were both giggling hysterically, were Robb's younger brothers, Brandon and Rickon. She didn't recognize the dark one that stood in the shadows behind Robb with a cocky smile.

"Seth," her father said, waving his hand to her. "This is Lord Eddard Stark and Ser Rodrik Cassel."

Ysilla curtseyed instinctively but felt foolish and quickly changed to a bow as the two men chuckled.

"She's going to have to remember that she's a boy, my lord," Lord Stark said to her father with a hand on his shoulder.

"How is she with a blade?" Ser Rodrik asked.

"I'm better with a bow," Ysilla said. "I can shoot better than Waymar."

"Not true!" Waymar said with a whine in his voice. "I let you win, all the time."

Ysilla rolled her eyes.

"If you're going to pose as a boy, you'll need to learn to fight like one, as well. No one's going to ever believe you're a boy unless you act like one." Ser Rodrik put a thick hand on Ysilla's shoulder, weighing it down. He led her towards the boys, who were practicing their archery. "How old are you?"

"Fifteen," she replied in a low voice. "Milord."

He nodded and pointed at the dark boy, who shoved a bow into her hands.

"See if you can use that. And try not to break it; It's my favorite," the boy said with a wry smile.

She watched the little boy, Brandon, shoot his arrow and miss his target as the older boys laughed. Her lips flattened into a line as she stepped forward and pulled back on her bowstring, aiming her arrow, and releasing with a breath.

The dark boy stopped laughing when he saw she had hit the target on its mark.

"He's almost as good as you, Greyjoy," Robb Stark said with a laugh.

The boy snatched the bow from her hands and shoved a worn one in its stead. "Try that! He's just lucky because he had my good bow. Not everyone can have one that's as good as mine." He checked the tension of his bowstring with care. "Go on! Shoot with that one!"

Ysilla drew another arrow back on the bowstring; her eye quickly glanced over to the Greyjoy boy, who eyed her suspiciously. With a breath, she aimed her arrow and released, hitting just below her previous arrow by a hair.

"Not bad," Robb said with a slap on her back. "Bran, go on."

Brandon lowered his eyes as he aimed his arrow.

Ysilla took a step back and to the side, watching him. Her eyes quickly glanced over to Ser Rodrik, who gave her a nod and returned to her father and Lord Stark. She spent the next few hours practicing with a bow and helping Brandon aim properly as Robb Stark and the Greyjoy boy laughed while playing with their swords.

"Have you ever been in a tourney?" Brandon asked her with wide eyes.

She shook her head. "Not yet," she said in a low voice. "I've watched many tournaments, but I've never been in one."

Brandon nodded. "I want to ride in one, someday."

"I'm sure you will," she replied.

"You need to get bigger first," the dark-haired boy she met earlier said behind them.

Ysilla turned around to find the boy staring at her.

"That's Jon," Brandon said. "He's my brother."

"I had no idea Lord Stark had so many sons," Ysilla said in surprise.

"I'm his half-brother," Jon interjected before anyone else could.

Ysilla blinked at him and gave him a kind smile.

He looked as though he was ready to explain or defend himself to her, but his hostility dissipated when she didn't say a word about his parentage. He was almost taken aback from her silence.

"Are you going to join us, Snow?" the Greyjoy boy said with his cocky smile.

"Go on, Jon," Brandon encouraged. "Show Theon how it's done!"

Jon laughed. "I think I'd rather not in front of company. I don't want the House of Royce to think we aren't capable of intelligent conversation. We're not all wildings in the North."

"I'm never good at swords," Ysilla said with a frown as she watched Robb and Theon spar with their swords.

"It's almost time for supper, anyway," Brandon said, grabbing Ysilla's hand. "Mother's coming."

Looking across the yard, she saw a lovely red-haired woman glide in a light blue dress beneath a wool cloak with a fur collar. She greeted Yohn Royce and his son with a kind smile and Ysilla could see the resemblance of all of her boys in her. They all had the same dark auburn hair and the light eyes with fair skin.

Brandon pulled Ysilla along behind him as he rushed to his mother.

"What are you doing, Bran?" she asked him.

Lady Catelyn gave Ysilla a quick look and a kind, knowing smile. She sent Brandon off to clean up for supper with his brothers, her eyes giving Jon Snow a harsh glare as he followed behind. "I had no idea you had another son, my lord," she said of Ysilla.

"He's my squire," Waymar quickly interrupted with a smirk.

"Brandon's taken an interest in you," Lady Stark said to her. "I must insist you come sup with us."

Ysilla glanced at her father and Waymar, who fumed behind Lady Stark.

"Unless there is some objection from Lord Royce?" She glanced over her shoulder at Ysilla's father, who shook his head.

"See no harm in having the boy sit with us," he said.

"I'll see you to the hall, my lord," Ser Rodrik said, leading the way.

"Cat," Lord Stark pulled his wife aside. "Do you know what you're doing?"

"The question is, do you? Allowing that man to pose that girl as a boy!"

Ysilla's face drained of all color as she walked behind her brother. She wanted to glance back at the couple, but first instinct was to let it lie.

"Why do I need to continue this charade?" she asked of her father when they were alone in the hall.

"You know exactly why," he said in a gruff voice. "I can't have my only daughter in danger in Runestone while I escort your brother up North. I felt it best that I bring you and keep you safe this way."

She shook her head. "I'm not fooling anyone!" she said. "Lord and Lady Stark know, as does Ser Rodrik."

"Then, you need to be more discreet, my dear girl," he whispered. "I can't have you in danger. I trust the Starks and the Tullys. They're good folk and very honorable."

"What about that Greyjoy?" she asked. "I don't think he's very trustworthy."

Her father grinned widely. "I'm glad you have good sense," he said, bracing her shoulders with his gnarled hands. "He's a ward of Lord Stark from Robert's Rebellion. He's been with them for about eight years, I think."

"He's a prisoner, then…" she said in a low voice.

"He's been raised alongside the Stark boys, receiving the same tutelage from Maester Luwin just like a Stark."

"But he's not a Stark… he's a Greyjoy and will always be."

Her father sighed. "There are people outside of our house that we can trust. If they trust this Greyjoy lad, then who am I to contradict Lord Stark?"

"And what of Jon Snow?" she asked, curious about the boy's parentage.

"What of him?" her father said as if it didn't matter. "He's Lord Stark's bastard son." His voice carried as a tall auburn haired girl flounced down the hall with a dark-haired girl running after her. "My ladies," her father bowed to the two girls.

"Are you coming to sup with us?" the little dark-haired girl asked. Her face was a little dirty but Ysilla could see Eddard Stark's blood in her. She was short and young with brown hair and grey eyes.

"Arya, mind your business," the tall red-haired girl said sharply. "Please forgive my sister, my lord."

"No need, child," Yohn Royce replied with a smile. "We'll be along shortly."

The tall girl stared dreamily at Ysilla for a moment before turning with a blush on her cheeks and disappearing into the dining hall. Arya gave Ysilla a strange look before following her sister.

"I'm not fooling anyone," Ysilla whispered to her father.

"You'll have to try."

She glanced into the dining hall and caught the red-haired girl's eye. "That girl stares funny," she said to her father.

"That's good," her father encouraged her. "Maybe she thinks you're a boy."

"I can fool the dimwitted ones, but not the ones that have half a hair of intelligence," she moaned.

"Do your best," her father said, leaving her in the hall alone.

Ysilla leaned against the wall and sighed. "I'm not fooling anyone," she groaned to herself quietly.

"You'd have to lose the girlish tone in your voice," a male voice said.

Ysilla stood upright immediately with a blush in her cheeks as Jon Snow appeared. "I don't know what you mean," she said in a low voice.

He laughed at her again. "If you're going to try to look like a boy, you need to act like one and sound like one."

She opened her mouth to reply to him but quickly closed it after realizing she didn't know how to respond to his statement. "I'm not a girl," she spat at him.

He smirked at her. "You can say what you want… but you are who you are. Nothing will change that."

"Like being a bastard son?" she snapped at him.

His smile fell from his face and the muscle in his jaw clenched tightly. Before she could say an apology for her harsh words, he turned and walked away from her and the dining hall.

Ysilla stared after him, remembering his sad eyes and the disappointment in his face as he turned. She wanted to follow him and apologize, but she didn't know if that was wise. Instead, she lifted her head and strode into the dining hall where the Stark boys and Theon Greyjoy sat on one end and the Stark girls sat on the other. In the center, across from Lord and Lady Stark, her father and her brother sat.

Waymar sat closest to the tall red-haired girl, who blushed suddenly when their eyes met. "My squire, Seth," her brother introduced to the girl. "This is Sansa Stark and Arya Stark."

"Milady," Ysilla said.

Arya watched her closely with a small grin. "Sit here," she insisted, scooting over to create a space between her and Sansa.

Ysilla froze when she saw the dreamy expression on Sansa's face and the curious eyes of Arya. She took a quick breath and excused herself from the table, claiming she wanted to check on the horses.

Instead, she walked outside to find Jon Snow practicing with his sword against a straw dummy. She watched him quietly as he hacked at the body blindly. There was no grace in his movement, it was raw and angry. He stabbed and slashed relentlessly, his ragged breath releasing soft wispy clouds from between his lips.

She took a step forward, her foot crunching into the gravel.

Jon Snow spun around quickly and silently, his blade edged against her neck. His eyes enflamed as he stared at her. "I could've killed you," he said, lowering his sword.

Ysilla drew in a breath. "I… I just wanted to apologize for what I said earlier."

"You didn't mean it?" he asked.

"Oh, I meant it, but I shouldn't have said it."

He snorted. "What kind of apology is that?" He sheathed his sword into its scabbard. "What kind of girl are you anyway? You're pretending to be a boy, but you still want to be seen as a girl."

"I don't want to be a boy… it's just something my father wants because it's safer to travel this way. We're going North to the Wall," she said in a low voice. "Waymar is joining the Nightswatch and my father wants me to stay there with him."

"There're no women on the Wall," Jon Snow said. "The Nightswatch is for men only."

"I know that," she bit her lip. "I... I just wanted to say I'm sorry for saying that to you earlier. That's all." She turned to walk away with a clearer conscience, but she still felt miserable.

"Do you know how to swing a sword?" he asked.

Ysilla turned around. "I know how to swing a sword," she said.

He presented her with his scabbard with a smirk. "I'd like to see that. I could use a laugh."

Ysilla returned to Jon Snow and drew his sword, dropping the tip to the ground immediately. "It's heavy," she commented.

"You won't find many light swords unless they're specially made. Most are going to be heavy and you'll need to know how to use them if you're going to pass as a boy." He used a gloved hand to lift the sword's blade up for her, but as soon as he let it go, it fell back down to the ground. "You're going to have to try."

"I am trying!" she said in her regular voice, surprising him. She used both hands to lift the tip of the sword up, smiling when she managed to balance it in the air for a second before losing control and dropping it back down.

He thought for a moment and left her alone.

Ysilla lifted the sword again, this time, using all of her strength to bring it back down at an odd angle that did nothing to the straw dummy. Her arms ached and she felt tired. With a sigh, she tried to move the sword again into the air.

"Try this one," Jon Snow returned. He brought out a shorter sword that was lighter and more manageable. "It's Bran's. But I'm sure he won't mind if you practice with it."

She looked up at him. "Why are you being so nice to me? I was horrid to you."

He shrugged. "I guess I know what it's like to try to fit in where you don't belong."

She nodded at him. She understood.