Author's Note:

All rights belong to GRRM and the powers that be at HBO. No infringement is intended, I'm just playing in their sandbox.

Part One

Chapter One - 297 AC

Westeros, Winterfell

"Ugh, I hate them!"

Alyssa Snow rolled her eyes and gave her younger half-sister, Arya Stark, a sympathetic smile.

"No, you don't," Alyssa replied gently.

It appeared that Arya once again found herself as the butt of some cruelty hatched up by their sister Sansa and her underlings Jeyne Poole and Beth Cassel.

"They laugh at me," Arya spat back as she swung her arms back and forth. "Sansa and her stupid friends in our lesson. Just because I'm no good. Who cares about stitching anyhow? The Greyjoys have it right, I do not sew!"

Alyssa giggled. In her lap was Arya's latest attempt at embroidery. She held up the cloth, examining it with keen eyes. Truly, it was horrific. "Apparently not," she agreed. "It's we by the way... and I hope you know the Greyjoys meant s-o-w."

Alyssa's pre-luncheon chores included feeding the reserve horses in the stable and turning them out for exercise. She'd just finished filling the last water troth before Arya blew in like a winter storm. The sisters sat quietly in the stables of the Great Keep, well Alyssa sat, Arya trudged back and forth fuming.

Arya paid Alyssa a withering glare, showing more hate fire than someone of her age, but that was the wolf's blood in her. The highborn wildling kicked her feet as she paced. Hay wafted up to her ankles before falling back down on the ground. Arya sneezed loudly, not bothering to cover her face before getting back into her rant.

"You should have seen the way Septa Mordane was falling all over Sansa!" Arya cried, disgusted. "Beth and Jeyne simpering like silly little hens while Sansa just preened and they all called me Horseface and Septa didn't even say anything. That fat old toad is a witch! Sansa doesn't even stop her ninnies from calling me names, she was laughing too!"

"Arya," Alyssa soothed. "You shouldn't be unkind."

Her sister's face raged, steam practically coming out of her ears. Suddenly, the anger left her and sadness swelled.

"They're so unkind to me," Arya whimpered after a moment.

Alyssa stood, gathering Arya in her arms. Alyssa looked down into her little sister's sullen face. Most days Arya let teases and little pranks fall right off her back. She gave just as good as she got. It couldn't be helped growing up in a house with three brothers and a male ward. Somedays though, and only with a select few, Arya would show her tender side. Alyssa was one of those few.

Of all the Stark brood, the two of them bared the closest resemblance. It made the girls feel closer to one another, a common thread to bind them within their pack. Arya was small for her age — her face almost doll like with her thin lips often set in an adorable frown. Her eyes, grey in color, were framed by prominent brows. Alyssa on the other hand was of average height and graceful build. Both girls had long, brown, curly hair; Arya's only a shade or two lighter. The feature that set Alyssa apart was her eyes. They were Stark grey with flecks of violet. The servants would whisper when she was young that Alyssa's mother must have been a great beauty to tempt their Lord. That talk had only started again these last few years as she made the change from tomboy to young woman.

Arya looked to her oldest sister hopefully, waiting for her to join in her ire, only to be disappointed.

"I'll admit that sometimes Sansa isn't the most —," Alyssa began diplomatically.

"Unpretentious?" Arya jabbed.

"Demure —," Alyssa corrected. "—while accepting praise, but everyone likes to be acknowledged. Even you, Arya Stark."

Arya managed to pout and scowl unsatisfied. "But she!"

"She is your sister," Alyssa said with finality.

Arya worried her bottom lip and gave Alyssa a bone crushing squeeze. "You're my sister too."

Alyssa smiled sadly. "I am not a Stark."

"It's not fair Alys," Arya mumbled as she pressed her face into her half-sister. "I hate that you can't be with us all the time."

Alyssa rubbed soothing circles into Arya's back, calming her the way she'd always done. "I know."

After everyone broke their fast, the Stark household separated to attend to their daily duties. The Stark brothers, Robb and Bran, went to train in defense and battle with Ser Rodrick and Jory Cassel while the girls, Sansa and Arya, were tutored in dancing, singing, needlework, household management and other etiquette with Septa Mordane. After luncheon all the children — even young Rickon — learned history, mathematics and the like together under Maester Luwin's care. Alyssa had her own chores in the mornings and only attended lessons in the afternoon with her half-siblings.

On the rare occasions Alyssa did attend lessons with the Septa and her half-sisters it was only when expressly permitted by Lady Catelyn. Her stepmother simply loathed the thought of Alyssa spending time alongside her true born children. 'You may have my husband's look,' Lady Stark told her once. 'but never forget you are an ill bred bastard,' Lady Stark's words dug in like knives, 'you, Alyssa Snow, will never have the same opportunities as my daughters. I won't have you distracting them from becoming proper ladies. Be grateful for what you are given.'

The sting of Lady Catelyn's opinion aside, Alyssa knew that growing up in Winterfell afforded her (a baseborn girl) the best education a child could ask for. She could read and write, she knew her history, geography and sigils. She could also cook, shoot a bow, and knew her way around herbs and how to prepare remedies. Even if she never learned courtesies or how to properly run a household. If she had to strike out on her own, Alyssa was confident she wouldn't be completely helpless.

Having her fill of the cuddle, Arya broke free from Alyssa and tugged on her embroidered cloth.

"Do you think you could fix this for me?" Arya begged.

It was supposed to be blue winter roses on a field of white, but somehow Arya had managed to attach silver accent threads that made the piece morph into the shape of thorns on thistle weeds.

"I"m afraid you need to start fresh, little sister," Alyssa lamented.

Admittedly she knew almost nothing of ladies' needlework. The only comparable talents she possessed lay with making bone lace, a trade of the small-folk. As a girl she used to watch Old Nan for hours as she braided and twisted lengths of linen, cotton and wool on her spindle made of bone.

"Open the gates!"

Alyssa and Arya watched as one of the guards opened the front gates of the Keep. Moments later Lord Eddard's riding party returned on their team of horses. The Lord of Winterfell, Robb, Bran, Ser Rodrick, Jory Cassel and Theon Grey came galloping into the inner yard.

The sisters approached as the men dismounted. Lord Eddard was the first to hand the reigns of his horse off to a stable boy. Their father muttered instructions to Ser Rodrick and Jory. Once they confirmed, Lord Eddard gave each of his children a once over before making long strides towards the Godswood. He paused briefly as he passed to put a gentle hand on Alyssa's shoulder in greeting. They had not yet seen one another this day.

"That was quick," Alyssa breathed. She watched her father's retreating form one hand gripping the pommel of the Stark sword, Ice, as he went.

"There was a deserter from the Nights Watch," Robb explained, making Alyssa jump. She didn't realize her brother was so close. His smile brightened, having startled her. "We would have been home sooner, but we found a dead stag in the woods and—"

"A puppy!" Arya cried.

Robb and Alyssa turned. Sure enough there was a pup in her arms. It had a dark brown and white coat with beautiful golden eyes.

"A direwolf," Robb corrected.

Alyssa's gulped.

"Direwolf?"

"Direwolves, Alys!" Bran chimed in excitedly. "There's one for each of us." He jumped down from his horse and ran over, clutching the bag strapped to his side. In his satchel were two more wolves.

The direwolf was the sigil of House Stark. Surely it was a blessing from the Old Gods that each of her true born siblings should have one. Alyssa stared at the wolf pups in Bran's possession. There was one a mix of auburn and white and another pure black, its eyes a startling bright green.

"There's even one for you, Snow," Theon Greyjoy added.

The ward from the Iron Islands came over with the remaining wolves cramped in a rucksack. One by one Theon presented the wolf pups. The largest pup was black and white, one was a tuft of soft grey and cream fur and the last was the smallest of the whole litter. Alyssa bent down, as if entranced. She put her hand out, the way she was taught to approach any dog, letting the white direwolf sniff her hand. The wolf pup did not hesitate to evaluate her. It padded forward silently, red eyes surveying Alyssa's character. It was only a moment before the direwolf was satisfied, licking her hand in proper greeting.

"Hello, little love," Alyssa purred.

Theon clucked his tongue. "You would pick the runt."

"I'd pick anything before I'd ever pick you," Alyssa mocked, not taking her eyes of her direwolf.

Theon's ears went pink, "You listen here you—"

"Alright," Robb interrupted, ever the peacekeeper. "Why don't we go show Sansa and Rickon the direwolves?"

Bran and Arya, each with their own brown and white direwolf in hand agreed. They excitedly ran toward the Keep, the unclaimed direwolves running behind to keep up with their littermates.

"Are you coming?" Robb asked. The black and white direwolf stood dutifully at Robb's heels.

Alyssa shook her head. "No, I was hoping to speak with father." She left her brother and Theon in the courtyard as she followed the footsteps of her lord father.

Of all the places in Winterfell, the Godswood was her favorite. She loved the smell of moisture from hot springs and lush the moss and greenery was such a beautiful contrast from the stark white of winter surrounding the sacred space. It was the place where Alyssa felt the most at home. The spirits of the Old Gods was strong in this place, she could feel their power radiating from the earth with each step she took. It didn't matter here that she was a Snow. It was her blood, the blood of The First Men, that made her feel like she belonged…and the fact that she rarely ran into Lady Stark in this scared place.

"They say that Bran the Builder built the castle around this grove," Alyssa whispered to her direwolf cradled in her arms. "Did you know that, boy?"

They walked past the dense forest of soldier pine, ash, elm, chestnut, hawthorn, ironwood, sentinels and oak trees toward the most sacred one. In the center of Winterfell's Godswood there was a giant weirwood tree with a craved face spooling red sap. At the base of the tree was her lord father. He looked like solemn knight from one of Sansa's beloved songs. This was where father went whenever he was forced to unsheathe Ice.

"So you bonded with one, huh?"

Alyssa furrowed her brow. Did he think me unworthy? "Yes," she muttered, presenting her direwolf. The beast touched down on the ground, its feet barely making a sound as it trotted over to sniff Lord Stark. "I haven't named him, but already he is dear to me."

Her father grunted, he was using a cloth to clean the blood from the Valyrian greatsword. It had been in the Stark family for almost four hundred years. One day it would belong to her brother Robb.

"I wanted to thank you," Alyssa carried on. "For letting us — for letting me have one."

"As I told Bran, you will train them. Feed them and bury them yourselves. Do you understand?"

"Yes, father," Alyssa replied dutifully.

Lord Eddard sighed deeply, he sheathed Ice and set it aside.

"Father?"

She watched as her father pulled a folded paper from his tunic only to place it in her hands.

"My lady wife was just here to deliver this," he said.

It was a letter. A crisp missive with news only a few days old at best. The wax seal bared the crowned stag. The sigil of the primary branch of House Baratheon.

"This is from the capitol," Alyssa breathed.

"Aye," her lord father answered. "Read."

Ned,

I'm sad to say Jon Arryn has died. A fever took him. His Lady wife and heir are well. I'm coming to see you Ned. It's been too long. If I had my way, it would be just me and a damned horse, but I've got to bring the whole fucking court. You can never be certain in King's Landing. Anyway, I look forward to seeing you my oldest friend, my brother. Look for me at the next moon.

King Robert Baratheon, Titles, Titles

From the stories she'd heard, the King wasn't a sentimental type; he wouldn't come all this way just to share his grief. Alyssa looked at her father in shock. "The King is coming here? Why?"

As if he could read her thoughts, her lord father nodded, face grim. "To ask me a great favor, I'm sure."

Alyssa frowned, not seeing the problem. "He's your friend," she pointed out. "You've always taught us to help our friends."

Lord Eddard sighed once more. "Sweet girl," he said while reaching out to grasp one of her hands. Her pale palm was so small and delicate in his. She felt like a child once more. Back in the days when they would come to the weirwood and Eddard taught her how to pray to the Old Gods.

"Alyssa, I need you to promise me something," Lord Stark implored.

She stared at her father, wide eyed and eager. "Of course."

"When the King arrives, I need you to promise me that you'll stay out of sight."

Author's Note:

I hope you enjoyed chapter 1. Next up we'll see what's happening across the Narrow Sea.

In my head I see Alyssa Snow with the ethereal beauty of Lili Reinhart and the strength of Katherine Langford - she's gotta be someone who will need to be on par with Sansa and Margaery (the beauties of the day) and unnerve Cersei down the line.

Please Review :-)