In the midst of hail and snow that coats everything from the North to the Vale, one of the fiercest snowstorms the North has ever seen, Eddara Stark is born.
She is born three years after her older brother Brandon, and everyone expected her to be a boy well. But fate is a funny thing, so one who might have been born Eddard Stark in another lifetime is born Eddara.
It does not make her mother love her any less. Lyarra Stark takes one look at her beautiful daughter, solemn faced and grey-eyed, and laughs with delight. "Oh my dear Eddara, the apple of my eye."
Rickard Stark feels differently, as he had hoped for an heir and a spare, but he supposes that there is still time to have a spare. Besides, it would do Brandon some good to have a little sister to take care of, and Lyarra had wanted a daughter this time.
Brandon takes one look at Eddara and promptly declares that he'll protect her from anyone that might do her harm. He puffs out his tiny three year old chest proudly, delighted to finally play the part of a handsome, chivalrous knight to the only creature in Winterfell that is more helpless than him.
When baby Eddara promptly hits Brandon in the eye with one of her pudgy little fists, he realizes that "helpless" is perhaps not the right word for his northern sister.
Despite the occassional temper tantrum, Eddara is a silent baby, content at staring up at her family members, a stark contrast from Brandon, who spent every waking minute crying and yelling as an infant. Brandon finds himself mystified at his sister's quiet nature, so different from his own.
Ten months later, Brandon Stark finds a kindred sprit in Lyanna Stark, his newborn sister, a squalling, red faced little thing who is clearly prettier than Eddara. More than that, she is loud in the way he was, and that, Brandon can understand.
Two years later, little Benjen is born, the spare Rickard Stark always wanted for assurances. However, this birth has takes a toll on Lyarra. Eddara and Brandon are old enough to understand that something is very wrong with their mother, and they stay by her bedside day and night.
She smiles, brushing Eddara's stringy hair out of her eyes and kissing Brandon on the cheek before passing away in the night.
It is a terrible tragedy.
Brandon screams and Lyanna wails, while Eddara stays silent, tears streaming down her face as they stare at their unmoving mother. But they are Starks. Their blood is ice, and they can survive anything the snows throw at them.
Appropriately, it is fire that ultimately tears them apart.
The Stark children grow up, adjusting to the lack of a mother. Benjen and Brandon have lessons on how to manage a holdfast and carry out the duties of a lord, respectively.
Lyanna and Eddara, being highborn ladies, are given very different lessons, ones that mainly revolve around knitting, singing, dancing, and other "womanly arts."
The two of them might fight on a regular basis, but if there's one thing that both girls agree on, it's that learning how to swing a tourney sword is a much more useful skill.
Rickard Stark finds them at it one day, practicing with wooden swords against one another, and angrily forbids them from picking up weapons ever again. "It's not expected of a lady," he elucidates. "Especially in the South." It would be years before Eddara would understand what he had happened, when she would overhear a conversation between Brandon and his illicit lover Barbrey Dustin, as the woman whispered in his ears, southron ambitions.
Lyanna, born with a touch of the wolfsblood in her veins, defies him openly time and time again until their father is forced to have a chaperone watch her every hour of the day. Even then, Lyanna is recalcitrant, skipping lessons to ride her horse instead, since atleast that isn't a forbidden activity.
Eddara is every bit as rebellious as her sister, but less open about it, and much more subtle. She nods her head and perfects her curtsies, acting like the paragon of virtue as she sneaks off into the godswood to practice her swordwork.
Rumors persist of Rickard Stark's eldest daughter's piety, for she seems to spend every day in those woods. If only they knew. Of course, Eddara has a strong connection to her faith, but her activities are a lot more clandestine than anyone would think.
However, childhood does not last forever, as Eddara quickly discovers at thirteen years old, when she wakes up in a bed full of blood.
Her knees wobbling, her fingers trembling, her eyes dashing from side to side, Eddara nervously takes a seat in front of her father in his study. "My little Eddara, you've flowered now, and I'm sure the septa has explained the particulars to you by now. I understand that although Lyanna has to stay in Winterfell to learn some discipline, you have always been an obedient child. I know you'll make your new house proud."
Eddara's stomach dropped. "My new house?"
"Yes, whichever it might be. I'm currently been approached by two lords and am considering two options: Jon Arryn's current heir, Elbert, or Jaime Lannister."
"... Arryn or Lannister? What about the northernmen?"
"I can betroth Brandon or Benjen to some northern lord, but I want you to retain your title as a lady of one of the seven great houses. Since Jaime Lannister is being fostered to become a knight, he isn't currently at Casterly Rock, so I've reached out to Jon. He's agreed to take you in for the next two years, see if the Vale would be a good fit for you."
Would it matter, Father? You'd just give me away either way like a broodmare, regardless of my opinion.
Eddara longs to say the words out loud, but she cannot bring herself too, and instead settles for obediently curtsying to her lord father.
She runs out of the study. She runs, and she runs, and she runs, not once looking back.
It is Lyanna that finds her first after she's collapsed in the godswood, sobbing at the thought of leaving Winterfell behind. "It's the only home I've ever known, Lyanna."
"It's not fair! He can't make you go!" Instead of comforting Eddara, Lyanna rages. Finally, she calms down and snuggles under the bearskin blanket next to her sister, the firelight, their sole source of heat and warmth, creating eerie shadows on the ceiling.
"We should run away, Ned. Somewhere far away from father and his stupid rules, a place where we would choose our husbands. A place where we could meet men who would accept us for who we are, teach us how to wield weapons and ride in tourneys and all the other things that father forbids us from doing. It would be wonderful, Ned, just like a song."
Eddara lightly kicks Lyanna's ankles, and the other girl lets out a laugh. It's Lyanna's fault that she was saddled with that boyish nickname in the first place, but Eddara doesn't mind that much, not really.
Lyanna's eyes grow dreamy as she imagines her knight in shining armor. That is the big difference between them, Eddara realizes. Lyanna is every bit the tomboy that Eddara is, but she still wants romance and love like Florian and Jonquil, the kind that is sung about in the songs, from Oldtown to King's Landing. She wants to be a knight and to fall in love; Lyanna wants everything. In contrast, Eddara has always solely been a warrior, the instincts of a soldier ingrained into her since birth.
She worries for Lyanna, sometimes. Her younger sister's view of the world is so naive and sheltered. In her eyes, all knights are gallant and just, and there is nothing Lyanna wants more than to be one. Eddara doesn't share her view, being old enough and clever enough to know that men are not always what they seem.
The day finally comes when Eddara is shipped off to the Eyrie. She hugs Benjen and kisses him on the cheek, wiping away his tears before curtsying once more to her lord father. She attempts to shake Brandon's hand, but he lifts her in the air, spinning her around. "You tell me if that Eyrie boy messes with you, alright Ned? I'll beat him to a pulp." He sets her down and ruffles her hair, offering a silent goodbye.
Lyanna's goodbye is the hardest. Ned can tell her little sister is trying so very hard to be brave about the entire thing.
The courageous front collapses when Ned gifts her a crown of winter roses, her favorite flowers. She embraces Ned, crying just as loudly as Benjen, and the elder girl hushes her patiently, patting her on the back.
"You may be a girl, but you are a wolf maiden of the north, my sweetling. You must never forget that."
With that, Ned boards the boat and is off to the Vale. She turns around and catches one last glimpse of Winterfell, her beloved home. Snow-covered peaks and bustling streets. Granite towers, iron doors, frozen lakes. Direwolves that run in the forests at night.
She breathes it all in one last time.
The journey to the Eyrie is uneventful. The knights of the Vale who accompany her are an honorable sort, and they ensure that she is never bored, with their stories ranging from all across Westeros, from Duskendale to the tragedy at Summerhall.
Eddara greets Jon Arryn first. He is a kindly man, a bit stiff and solemn, much like herself. Elbert Arryn, her soon-to-be betrothed, takes one look at her and gives her a smile as false as one's own reflection.
It's clear that he sees what all the others see in her. A stringy, brown-haired girl with slightly tanned skin and a long face. Faint scabs were visible on her forearms, which were more muscly due to years of practice with a sword, as well as a bow and arrow. Eddara is tall, too, and far more likely to frown than smile.
She and Elbert barely speak to one another.
Which is fine, because in the first week that Eddara spends in the Eyrie, she makes a new friend. She had been exploring the castle's armory, a dusty room filled with every weapon imaginable. She picks up an average sized sword, going out to the empty training yard and swinging it around.
"Hey!" A voice cries out in indignation as Eddara swings her sword to the right, almost cutting off someone's head.
"I'm so sorry! Are you alright?" Ned faces the boy, a well-built, black haired teenager with sparkling blue eyes, filled with amusement.
"I'm alright, my lady. You're Eddara, the lady from the North, right? I'm Robert Baratheon."
"I know who you are, I saw you when I greeted Lord Arryn." A few moments of awkward silence persisted before Robert clears his throat and asks, "So what is a lady like you doing with a sword like that? Weapons are dangerous, you know. You could easily hurt yourself."
Ned narrows her eyes. "Funny. A minute ago it seemed like the only person I was going to hurt was you. Scared of a little competition?" She doesn't know what compelled her to act so foolishly, or why she's speaking so arrogantly towards this boy, but somehow his condescending attitude has awakened a desire inside of her to prove herself to atleast one person in this castle.
Robert narrows his eyes. "From a girl? Please, I could beat you with my eyes closed."
"Then prove it."
Robert grips his ax in one hand, a smug smirk on his face, taking an experimental swing towards Eddara, who easily dodges.
Thirty seconds later, the Baratheon boy is panting on the ground, a steel blade at his throat. "Do you yield, Ser?" Eddara has to work to stifle her laugh.
"Bloody hell, how did you-"
"I've been training with swords since I was four, my lord. Northern women are not like your southern lasses; we have wills of iron."
Robert seems to be getting over his initial anger and embarassment, and now seems more amused than anything. "Well, you are certainly different from the ladies at Storm's End."
"If you want, I could teach you the maneuver I used to disarm you. It's difficult, but it's useful. My older brother showed it to me, before my father told him to stop training my older sister and I."
He smiles. "I'd like that. What do they call you back in Winterfell anyway? Eddara is a bit long."
"My sister and brothers call me Ned."
Robert shakes his head. "Ned it is, then. I'll tell you what, you're far better company than that Elbert Arryn fellow."
Eddara smiles. If nothing else, atleast she'd made a new friend.
Adjusting to the Eyrie isn't as difficult as she had originally thought. The castle is haunting and mysterious, making it fun to explore. She has lessons with her septa, but in the Vale, there is an emphasis on honor and valor that Jon Arryn embodies every time he comes to see her. She spends much of her free time reading in the dusty library, and instead of the fair ladies, it is the knights that capture her interest, Ser Duncan the Tall and Ser Barristan Selmy.
Robert and Ned become almost inseperable in the months to come. Since Ned spends every waking minute avoiding Elbert, she decides to spend her time with Robert instead, exploring the dimly lit network of tunnels and passageways carved into the mountains of the Vale, around the high castle. The castle itself is large and spacious, but also gloomy and isolated.
Ned absolutely loves overlooking the Vale from the spires of the Eyrie's tallest towers. She loves going down to the villages, seeing the commoners and their shops as Robert drags her from one whorehouse to another. Although that isn't really fair to her new friend, who likes visiting the blacksmith and going to the outskirts of the villages, attempting to climb the gigantic mountains that surround the Eyrie.
Ned laughs and pokes fun, but it's not long after that she joins Robert in his impossible quest. They hardly get five feet off the ground before losing their grip and falling flat on their butts. Robert simply lets out a booming laugh and runs back to the Eyrie, Eddara hot on his heels.
It's nice having someone her own age that isn't family to play with. Eddara's solemn and reserved nature ensured that she was alwags lacking in the friends department, and even her boisterous siblings occasionally forgot that she was in their presence.
Robert is different though. He is her opposite in every way. While she is quiet, he is deafening; while she is serious, he is frivolous and lighthearted. Nevertheless, he never seems to forget about her or dismiss her the way others do. There was still an intrinsic connection between them, both having lost parents at a young age.
Robert laughs at all her jokes too, although she seldom made any. He is never bothered by her introspective nature, and instead talks enough for the both of them. Best of all, whenever he was around, Eddara finds herself breaking out of her shell. He made her laugh and curse and cry with his antics; life with Robert Baratheon was never boring.
Perhaps the one thing Eddara hadn't liked was Robert's philandering. He had no shortage of whores, and she even saw his bastard daughter once. "Her name's Mya, isn't she a precious little thing?" Robert had chuckled, tossing the baby and catching her as she giggled in delight.
Eddara had been uncomfortable at first. As a woman, she certainly wouldn't want her husband to father a child out of wedlock, not to mention her strict adherence to a code of honor. Gradually, though, she too grew fond of Mya. Bastard or not, she was still a girl, and deserved to be treated kindly, for it was through no mistake of her own that she came into the world.
There was no denying that Robert was good to Mya as well.
That was when an idea struck Eddara. She writes to Rickard, informing him of Robert's prowess and his suitability as a husband, especially considering he was heir to the Stormlands.
He would be perfect for Lya. He'd be a loving father to his children, and Robert lets me secretly fight and train with him all the time, regardless of the fact that I'm a lady. Not to mention, their personalities match perfectly. He's the knight that Lyanna's always wanted.
Rickard responds within a fortnight, agreeing to talk to Robert and his regent in the Stormlands to arrange the betrothal.
Robert is excited about the match, and he asks Ned to tell him everything she knows about her little sister. She responds enthusiastically, telling Robert of Lyanna's grace and beauty, but also of her fierceness and her will of iron. "When you see her, Robert, you'll know that you've met your match."
With that, she knocks the ax out of his hand with a single arrow, and he chases her around the pavilion. Robert is slower than usual though, and both are a bit melancholy, for it is their last day together in the Vale. Tomorrow, both lord and lady will return home.
If only the simple days of childhood lasted forever.
A/N: Hey guys! This is my first GoT fic, and you might have seen it on another site. I've decided to post it here too. Tell me what you think! Basically, it's a canon twist where Ned Stark is born female.