Chapter XI

The Dornishmen stayed a week at Winterfell, a very stressful week, especially for mother, Maester Luwin and Septa Mordane. This very last morning, after breaking our fast, Prince Quentyn led me to the godswood.

"Winterfell is impressive. In more than one way. I hope you like Sunspear as much," said my Prince.

"I'm sure I will. I'm eager to see the Water Gardens. That and the sea."

"Those you'll see as often as you like, my lady." He sat near the pond, just underneath the heart tree.

"Now tell me, my lord, why did you take me to the godswood?" I sat just beside him, waiting for an answer. He smiled and looked away. "Apparently in the North everything that has some great importance should be done at the godswood, so here you shall listen my promise," he took my hands on his and looked me straight to the eyes. "Our fathers made the arrangement but I am your husband-to-be and so I promise I will take care of you, I will love you until the day I die and I promise to fulfill as many of your desires as I can." Then, he kissed my hands, never taking his eyes off me. How should I answer to that? Saying that I will take care of him too? That I would always love him? Nonetheless my first reaction was a hug. A childish response maybe but an answer still. "I will take care of you too my lord and keep you with both of your feet on the ground." "What?" he replied laughing. "I heard you're quite a dreamer." He seemed to like the answer, but he noticed the lack of love in my promise.

It was weird having to say goodbye to the man that in three years would be my husband. The week had gone fast and I felt…sad for him to go so quickly. That feeling certainly caught me off-guard. Didn't I have to hate him? Didn't I have to hate Dorne? I spent all the morning confused and it only got worse when the moment to make our farewells came. The Prince kissed my hand again and when he was there, so near me I whispered I'll miss you as I wanted nobody else to here. Quentyn was certainly pleased with that: I was sure he didn't expect such a reaction from me.

When the Dornishmen left Winterfell, the castle breathed. And so did I.

The rest of the day was just any other day: I went sewing with Sansa and Arya but just enough time to appease mother. Then I managed to escape with Arya to the yard and practice a little bit with the sword with the boys. Arya could barely hold the grip of the sword, but she was little still and if trained properly, she showed promise already. But really what I was looking forward to was the night when Old Nan would tell us all sorts of magical stories.

Today the chosen place was my bedchamber. Arya and Sansa were the first to appear and not to my surprise, they were already quarrelling.

"What happens?" I had almost have to shout at them.

"Sansa is stupid!" cried Arya.

"I'm not stupid! It is you, you savage!"

"Girls! Stop it! Sansa! Arya! Tell me what it is!"

"I was just telling her how…," started Sansa, but Arya cut her in the middle of the sentence.

"She was just telling how beautiful that lord was or that other. And how perfect it would be if father found a lord for her soon. I hope he had married Quentyn with her and not you." Arya sat on the floor, near the hearth while Sansa went to just the opposite place. I was near the window, looking at both. "Arya, that's not a reason to call her stupid, she just…," she cut my sentence too.

"She only talks about boys and those stupid songs about knights and maids… it is silly."

"You call it stupid because you're such a brute you don't understand anything but blows and rudeness!"

"Girls, stop this. You two like quite opposite things but that doesn't mean…," now it was Sansa's turn to cut my words. "She is supposed to be a lady, she should learn her courtesies!"

"Ok, then hate each other all you like but in silence. Bran has been waiting for Old Nan's stories all week and you don't want to spoil this night to him with such follies." I felt bad the minute I said those words but it was true. Their quarrel was the same as always and they never seemed to try to understand each other. Maybe one day they would. The hard way, perhaps. And maybe it is that I'm becoming truly a lady, I thought.

Old Nan and her stories came and go. Today it was all about wargs and giants and the children of the forest. Magic. Sometimes I asked myself if Old Nan believed in such things. It was that or that she had a true vocation for telling stories. Robb had to carry Bran to his bed afterwards. Bran, who was ever the most enthusiast with all these tales. He did believe they were true, he did with all his heart.

That very same night I was in one of Old Nan stories, very scary, very near… The forest was white, decorated with snow all around. All was tranquil except for… a direwolf, a direwolf that was near enough for me to hear its snarling. I turned in my heels to exit the forest clearing and tried to run away from the sound but I couldn't. I started running faster and faster, afraid of it, but I could still hear the direwolf loud and clear. I began to gasp trying so hard to breathe, breathe a cold and icy air. Snow was falling harder now, forming a storm thanks to the gusts of wind. I thought I was lost but I continued running as much as I could. Why do you run, stupid girl, it's a direwolf, a direwolf, a voice said. But I couldn't stop, not now.

It was too late when I finally saw the slope…it was too late…and so I fell. I thought I would die, nobody could survive a fall from that height. But before I could even see the earth beneath me I realized there was no snarling, there was no snow…but there was wind and heat and dust.

I snapped my eyes open and looked all around me. I was in my room, a room I had never left. I gasped for air, afraid, my skin turned into gooseflesh. And through the open window, lost in the distant forest, a direwolf howled to the moon. I looked at the pale, cold night.

Winter is coming, but for whom?

And so, before I finish the chapter, just a comment: I've received bad reviews saying how Lyanna and Arya have exactly the same character and so why I haven't decided to write about Arya but changing her story line. I completely see what you mean and in the first chapters Lyanna and Arya are the same. Maybe I wrote it too subtle or I failed to prove it at all, but in this last chapters Lyanna is trying her best with courtesies and the like. Can you imagine Arya doing something like that? Because I don't. When Ned told Arya about her future ruling another lord's castle Arya replied "That's not me". And for how her story line has developed, I don't think she will ever be a 'lady' the way Sansa or Catelyn are. As for Lyanna, you'll see what I mean if you keep reading. In any case, thanks .

And last but not least, I'll tell you the ages of the Stark children so far, just in case you want to keep track of them: Robb, Jon and Lyanna are 13; Sansa is 10; Arya is 8; Brandon is 6 and Rickon 2.