Chapter 1- Doe eyed girl.
The burning hot coals tumbled over her shoulder before the doe-eyed little girl could even blink. She cried out in pain, frantically beating at her clothing to try and supress the growing flame, her shrieks alerting her father from the other side of the forge. "Arielle!" the aged smith cried, running over to his daughter with a look of panic flashing across his features, shortly after one of anger appeared. "Why do you always have to be so feckin' clumsy!" He yanked the bucket of water from beside the forge and emptied it over the small frame of the girl, soaking her to the bone and dousing the fire eating away at his daughter's rags. "I'm sorry father, I'm sorry! I was just bringing you your lunch from Ursa but I tripped and-" a sob interrupted Arielle's tale of woe. Her father swiped his black hands over his daughter's cheeks. "I love you to pieces girl but you're a mess! When are you ever going to learn to be a lady? You're never going to be married at this rate! Come here child, let's get you to Winterfell to find a healer." Iain Sixsmith commanded his daughter. "I'm never going to get married. I want to stay here and be a smith like you!" Arielle indignantly proclaimed. Her father smiled slightly in exasperation and wiped a soot covered hand down his face. "March little lady. To the stables. It's a day's ride to Winterfell hold and I don't want to be caught in the dark!" Arielle winced as her shoulder cried out in pain while she nodded in defeat. Arielle loved her father, and Iain loved his daughter. His only wish for her was that she grew up properly, as a lady should do. Have a good upbringing. He did not want his daughter to become some common whore.
At only 11 years old, little Arielle stood much too short for his liking, barely reaching his ribcage. Aye, she was fair of face but too scrawny to pass for a lady. Iain had noted that his daughter was developing more and more freckles the more time she spent in the sun with that farmer's daughter next door. "Sword fighting" she called it as the pair whacked one another with branches. Her once fair skin was dotted with the marks, as far as one could see beneath the dirt mottling her features. She needed to get cleaned up before visiting the home of the Starks to find a healer to treat her burn. He did not want his daughter making a bad impression should they run into anyone of note, something not entirely impossible while in the home of a Lord. He pondered this while gathering the breads and food required for the journey, closing up his forge and home for the day. His daughter's clumsiness was beginning to cost him his business and he needed a solution for this. Fast. Arielle was his pride and joy next to his son Albert, but as a member of the Night's watch, he didn't even know if his son was alive or dead.
"I'm ready father." A small voice cooed from across the hall breaking him from his reverie. He turned to find his daughter dressed with a tear-stained face and ready for the journey to the healer. "Have you had any milk of the poppy for the pain yet?" Arielle shook her head, a negative. He sighed. "Here, have some before you go and I'll restock and buy some more at the healers." He searched his knapsack for the milky liquid, and retrieved some for the young girl, striding over to her and tipping it gently between the child's lips. Arielle grimaced after swallowing at the taste of the foul liquid, but she noticed the pain in her shoulder subside slightly, so decided not to complain. "Come on Elle, to the stables before sepsis sets in." he gestured out of the door allowing the child to set off first before locking up behind her. He had brought camping equipment as a precaution against busy roads.
A few hours later, it was looking as though he would need to use it. They had been riding for half a day and the sun was beginning to set, light becoming scarce. There was at least another quarter of a day's ride to Winterfell hold and they wouldn't make it before it went dark. It wasn't safe to camp so close to the roads overnight but Arielle was beginning to tire upon the horse's back, the pain in her shoulder overwhelming her ability to stay awake. He dismounted the nag's back, hauling his daughter down after him with hands strategically placed at her waist rather than under her arms, so as not to cause pain to her already hurt shoulder. He would share a sleeping bag with his daughter, buried underneath furs, but it was important that the pair didn't freeze to death first. He realized his dire need for wood to make a fire all too late in the day, and muttered a curse under his breath.
Arielle would have to be left alone for a short while, whilst he left in search for some suitably dry wood; an impossibility the night after rainfall. He shook his daughter gently, stroking her hair. She stirred as her eyes fluttered open drowsily. "Father? Are we here?" He shook his head grimly. "No my girl, but I need you to be big and brave for me while I go and search for some wood. Can you do that?" He implored of his daughter. He was concerned for her safety. Winterfell was not all that far away, and he was sure his daughter would be safe, but it was always dangerous in Westeros, wherever one went. He unsheathed his dagger and pressed it into Arielle's hand. "Do not use it unless you are attacked or in danger my love. Do you promise?" He stared his daughter in the eyes, begging her wordlessly to understand. She nodded hesitantly. "Y-yes father. Will you be long?" Iain shook his head. "No my dear, a matter of minutes, a half hour at most." Arielle nodded. She'd played at swords before. She could do this and make her father proud. "Don't move, you don't want to aggravate your shoulder my dear." He kissed the top of her head then strode away between the trees.
Arielle was left alone as she watched her father retreat, the forest suddenly seeming a lot bigger and a lot scarier than what she was used to. To occupy herself, she took to singing the few nursery rhymes she knew, a form of comfort. Her father had told her that before her mother had died she had sung them to her brother every night so that he could sleep. Her father had made a point to teach them to her, telling her to sing them in times of worry or fear to provide comfort to herself. She picked at her skirts with her good arm as she sung, her shoulder causing tears to well in her eyes and her voice to become thick and warbled with crying. It stung dearly, so she decided to take a peek at it. She placed the dagger on the floor beside her as she turned her gaze to her right shoulder. The skin was mottled and burnt a lot further down than she realised as she pulled the material away from her shoulder. She'd really done it this time. She took a deep breath, willing herself to be okay. She had to be brave for her father. She said she would, so she must. She continued singing quietly to herself in the forest, the sound of her voice echoing between the trees.
A snapping twig some time later as the sun was finished setting and night had appeared caught her attention. Her father was not back yet, and whilst she was beginning to worry, she had promised to be brave. "Father?" she called out, to no response. "Father is that you?" She was nervous now. Arielle took the dagger in hand and rose to her feet, turning to face where she heard the twig snap. Her face contorted in fear. She would be angry if her father was playing a joke. "Father I swear if that's you I'll-" she screamed as a large man jumped from behind a nearby tree. "I'm not your daddy girl. What's a pretty little thing like you doing in a place like this? Hmm? All by yourself?" the man licked his lips. He was disgusting. Arielle backed away in fear gripping the dagger tightly by the hilt. The man had large patches of dirt across his face, tattered robes draping his body. He had a large mole that Arielle could see the hairs growing from. He was a lot larger than her. "No. I'm with my father, stay away from me he'll be back any minute." Arielle spoke up, trying to be strong but her voice betrayed her. It trembled terribly. "I guess I should stay and keep you company ey? Keep you warm 'til daddy gets back." The man grinned viciously. Arielle backed up even further. "No. Stay away from me. Father? Father!" She cried behind her, craning her neck around but trying to keep one eye on the stranger at the same time.
Her father had warned her about men like this, and how they only wanted one thing. Disgusting men, who yearned to be inside women. They raped and killed them. Arielle knew to keep away and be wary of any strangers because of this. "Ain't no-one round here darling. No one to hear you scream!" The man lunged at Arielle and she froze, the sheer weight of him toppling her over onto her back, her shoulder screaming in pain. The main remained on top of her. Why wasn't he moving? She struggled beneath him, half sobbing, half screaming. "HELP!" she screeched over and over. Why wasn't anyone coming? She tried to push the larger man off her but he was too heavy, he must have been toying with her, torturing her before raping her by trapping her underneath him. "SOMEBODY HELP ME!" she screamed at the top of her lungs, writhing beneath the old pervert while her shoulder slowly killed her.
She suddenly heard the sounds of hooves pounding the earth around her, and men's voices filled the air. Oh no, there were more of them. She kicked and yelled at the top of her lungs "HELP ME!" over and over, until suddenly the weight was gone off her. She scrambled back, her feet and hands kicking into the muddy earth beneath her. Sheer panic across her features like a startled dear, tears cascading down her cheeks. "Don't touch me! No!" She cried as she flung her arms up over her face, only to have them wrenched down, another man's face filling her vision. "Shhhh, you're safe now child." A calm voice crowed. It took her a while to realize that the man's lips were moving and the voice belonged to him. She stared into his eyes. "Are you going to hurt me?" She spoke gently. The man smiled sadly. "No my dear. Are you alright? Are you hurt? Where's your family." Arielle sniffled gently, wiping her eyes with her good arm. "That man. He came out of nowhere, he tried to rape me. My father. He's in the woods somewhere gathering wood. He left a while ago. I don't know where he is. I was waiting for him. Please don't let him come near me. Get that man away from me. He trapped me." Arielle trembled as she recounted what happened, the man cradling her arms gently, kneeling before her. He had kind eyes, and long ashy hair, like her own. The man was imposing with a rough voice and rough face to match. She noted that he held her gently but with assurance. He seemed kind. "He's dead my dear, your dagger… it pierced his belly. Cut him through... He… won't trouble you any longer. I haven't seen your father. My hunting party and I were returning to Winterfell. Is that where you were going? What's your name girl?" The man seemed calm, but the news he delivered spooked Arielle to the core.
Dead. The man was dead. She had killed someone. She could be hung for this. She was a killer at only 11 years old. A new wave of sobbing overcame her. "A-Arielle. Sixsmith. Arielle Sixsmith." She replied gently. "W-who are you?" she asked between sobs, her teary little eyes striking the man's heart and causing him to feel great pity for the young, tiny girl. She couldn't have been much older than his own sons. "I'm Lord Eddard Stark my girl, let's get you to safety hmm?" And with that last sentence Arielle's world spun before her. She had killed a man, almost been raped, lost her father, burnt her shoulder and been rescued by none other than Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell. She was sure to be hanged for this. Killing was a crime. Combined with the immense pain and growing infection in her shoulder, it all became too much for the young girl, and she slumped in the arms of the Lord of Winterfell. Out Cold.