In the two months since her grandfather had told her that she would be marrying Lord Stark's son Jon, she had often found herself going back and forth between being giddy with excitement at the prospect of her upcoming marriage, and terrified at the prospect of leaving her family and her home for what was almost certain to be a few years of rough living up in the New Gift. Both her father and grandfather had promised her that they were doing everything in their power to make her life as comfortable as possible in her new home. But it was still certain to be a far cry from the lavish lifestyle and comforts of White Harbor.
She had been overjoyed the day that a rider had presented himself at the gates of the New Castle and delivered to her a letter from her betrothed. So many Lords and Ladies were wed without ever having had the chance to get to know one another. But she and Jon had that chance. At least they had more of a chance than most. It had only been a single letter apiece, so far at least, but she cherished every word that they had exchanged.
The one letter that she and Jon had each sent were a good start on getting to know one another. Both letters had run to several pages in length as they each tried to tell the other as much about themselves as they could. Jon's letter had been kind, sincere, and just a touch arrogant in some places. It wasn't necessarily arrogant in a bad way, he just came across as a bit cocky in his abilities. Her mother told her that was only to be expected in someone of his age and upbringing, and quite frankly, she would have been a touch worried if he hadn't seemed that way. Though her mother assured her that the arrogance and cockiness would more than likely be driven for the lad once the realities of rehabilitating a holdfast were driven home to him. With the Gods blessings, what would result from that would be a confident, capable and good man. She hoped with all her heart that would be so.
In his letter, Jon had also told her of his struggles in deciding on what to name "their" new House. She had blushed just a bit at the thoughts that ran through her mind when she read that. The way it would become "their" House was something that she and her mother had discussed quite a bit of late, especially seeing as she had already flowered and her marriage would not likely be far into the future. But that one sentence had also made her start to fall in love with the man who would be her husband. Most men, whether highborn or low, would never even think to ask a woman what her opinion was of something like this. But he had done so without hesitation. How could she not begin to love him for that?
She had written back and offered her thoughts on some of the names he had come up with. Some weren't bad. Some were truly awful. She was very careful in her reply about those. It wouldn't do to wound her betrothed's pride so early in their courtship. But when he described what he was considering for their new sigil, an idea had come to her. With his plan to have a white, stalking direwolf on their banner, along with his father's banner being a running direwolf, and his father being known as the "the Quiet Wolf," she had suggested perhaps they should take a name that incorporated the direwolf somehow. In her imagination, she thought Jon might take the name Direstark or Wolfstark, something along those lines. But when the raven came officially announcing their engagement, she saw that he had decided to simply take the name "Wolff" for their new House. She had smiled and giggled a little at that. If she needed any more proof that he was a Stark through and through, regardless of name, this was it. No other House would be so straightforward and unadorned when it came to taking a new name.
And now soon, she would be Lady Wylla Wolff. She had to admit, it had a bit of a ring to it. She prayed that she would be a good wife to Jon, one that he could be proud of and love with all his heart. She prayed just as hard for Jon to be the man she was beginning to think he was. And not all of those prayers were being offered to the Seven. The Starks were firm worshipers of the Old Gods. She even remembered seeing Lord Stark, Robb and Jon all visiting the Wolf's Den a few times during their visit to pray in the Godswood there. So she had taken it upon herself to start learning a bit about the Old Gods.
The more she learned of them, the more she found herself being drawn towards them. They were Gods from a simpler time. An era when men didn't have time to spare for elaborate ceremonies and rituals in their worship. Their Gods were nameless, ageless and occasionally brutal. But when their worship had been at its strongest, it had been a brutal time and a man was far more likely to die from violence than they were today. Hard times such as those bred hard men. And hard men would only bow for even harder gods. Not that the Seven were exactly peace loving. Men like her father or uncle didn't worship the Warrior for nothing after all. But still, the simplicity of the worship of the Old Gods was drawing her towards them. Perhaps by joining with Jon in his worship it would draw them closer together over time.
Reflecting back on the months since her grandfather and Lord Stark had entered negotiations for her hand, she realized just how busy the last two months of her life had been. She imagined they had been similarly busy for Jon, if not even more so. Both of them were preparing for the next stage in their lives. He to assume the mantle of Lordship and all the responsibilities that entailed. Not to mention preparing himself to become a husband. She was spending her time learning how to be a good a wife and mother and, hopefully, to become her husband's right hand in all things. Her mother had done everything possible to make sure she was prepared to run a household of her own. She was likely to be largely on her own in that regard. At least at first. She doubted that Jon would have a Steward appointed very quickly. That was a vital and important position and he would want to feel out his men and find who would be best suited for the role, surely. But until he did, she would fill that role for him to the best of her ability.
In fact she had already started. While her grandfather and Lord Stark were negotiating the terms of her betrothal and what her dowry would be, Wylla had begun planning for the upcoming winter. It may still be summer, but fall would soon be upon them and winter would follow hard on its heels. While she didn't have any exact numbers to work with, she had a rough idea of what would be needed to survive up there. With luck, they would be able to put away enough grain and other foods to last them the winter. If they could get at least three or four harvests in, they would be quite well provisioned. At least she hoped so. How well provisioned they were would largely come down to how much land they would be able to farm, how many smallfolk they would have to farm it, and the amount of space they would have to store everything.
She had already drawn up plans for how best to store and preserve their harvests, what should be pickled, what should be dried, what could be stored as is. She had an idea of how much firewood they should have, how much water, wine and ale they would need and a multitude of other items that would be vital to them. Her plans would obviously need refinement once she knew exactly how many people she and Jon would be expected to support through the winter, but they were a good place to start. When she had told her grandfather about what she was doing, he had smiled hugely at her and told her what a fine Lady and wife she would be. He had seemed to be very proud of her.
But that wasn't all she had been doing. While she obviously had heavy clothes to wear, she was a Northman after all, living up in the Gift was sure to give her a whole new exposure to cold. So she had been spending quite a lot of time with some of the seamstresses of White Harbor getting new, warmer clothes made for herself. Those were not the only clothes she was having made though. The best seamstress in the city had been in to see her as well. She was making the dress that Wylla would be married in. It was to be made of the finest Myrish lace, of silks from Asshai, and from cloth of silver. The dress was to be the color of fine ivory while her maiden's cloak would be a rich teal while upon the rear of it, and drawn in freshwater pearls would be the merman of her father and grandfather's House
In addition to the clothing that was being made for her, her Lord Father had also asked her for a list of items she would like to bring with her to her new home. Her first thought had been to ask for luxuries that would make her more comfortable. Her second thought was that being a comfortable corpse wouldn't do much for her, so instead she drew up a list of things she thought would help her and Jon to survive. Oh she had still included a few luxuries for herself, chief among them a large copper bathtub large enough for both her and Jon to soak in. Some items, like the down stuffed mattress and heavy blanket, combined both necessity and luxury. But overall her list was, at least in her opinion, more practical than wishful.
She had also been talking with her father and grandfather about who would be accompanying her to her new home. Her mother wanted to send half a dozen maids with her along with a multitude of other servants, while her father and grandfather had to remind her mother that, for the foreseeable future, it would be better to only send one or two maids and no more than a handful of household servants. So she had two maids that would come with her to help her dress and draw her baths and perform other such duties for her along with five household servants to help maintain her new home. She had also managed to convince her grandfather to part with one of the better cooks in the kitchens. The man in question wasn't the head cook, but he was not far behind him either. She was sure that her new husband would appreciate what the man could do in the kitchen.
All in all, it had been a productive two months for her. She still felt like she had a thousand things to do, but she had made a good start on it. And today, her grandfather had given her the news. Lord Stark had sent another raven. He and the King's party were leaving for King's Landing while Jon was heading to his new home in the Gift. In his ravenscroll, he suggested that she and Jon wed in six or seven months to give his son time to conduct any needed repairs to his new holdfast and to begin making it suitable for a young Lady to reside in. At hearing the news, butterflies began to flap about inside her. That meant that she would soon be leaving for her wedding. With her bedding shortly after.
Grandfather held her hands, like he always did when he wanted to tell her something important, and told her, "We will leave for Winterfell in six months, my dear. Upon our arrival, you and Lord Wolff will be married, and shortly after, you and he will begin the journey to your new home."
With her eyes shining, she told her grandfather, "I'm ready, Grandfather. I'm nervous, but I'm ready. I know my life will be changed, but Lord Jon is, I think, the kind of man that I have been dreaming about wedding since I was a young girl."
Grandfather kissed her hands then and told her, "You, my brave Wylla, are a delight. In the days to come, when all of our histories are written about us, they will all agree on what a lucky man Lord Wolff was to call you his Lady Wife. Now go, finish your preparations for your journey. Six months will pass faster than you realize."
Looking back now, her grandfather had been wrong. The six months that had followed that conversation were the longest of her life. Every day, she awoke and crossed one more day off the time she would have to wait to meet her betrothed again. And every day seemed longer than the last. Two more letters had arrived from Jon in that time, and she devoured every word they contained. She drank in everything he had to say.
She felt the horror he must have felt when he told her of Bran's fall. She could almost feel the tension that must have filled Winterfell afterwards, while everyone waited for news of whether his brother would live or die. Her heart raced in excitement when he told her of how he felt on the morning of his departure. She laughed, as she imagined that Jon must have laughed, at some of the stories he told her of his journey north. His last letter had ended rather abruptly. He noted that they had come across a Black Brother, a man named Yoren, who was bringing new recruits with him to Castle Black. Instead, his uncle Benjen had offered to bring them to the castle himself and Yoren could then ride south, first for Winterfell and then on to White Harbor, in his never ending quest to find men willing to join the Night's Watch at the end of the world, only thirty leagues from her soon-to-be-home. The Wandering Crow had offered to bring his letter to her, and so he had. She adored every word Jon wrote her. But the part that truly set her heart racing was his ending:
With all my love
Jon