'Not every girl survives the forest. / Sometimes she becomes it.'
Catherine Garbinsky, All Curses End
The parchment held in her eldest brother's hand was thin yet pressed finely, the quality impressively expensive despite its meager contents. A broken seal in the shape of a wolf scattered its red wax onto the stone floor. Devran paced, his brow etched in worry.
"You are going to leave grooves in our floor if you keep at it," Magnus said in his whisper of a voice.
"Devran, come out with it. Who has died?" Theodal crossed his arms, his foot tapping an incessant beat from where he sat. He has always been the impatient one of the bunch.
All four of them were gathered in the heart of their home, a long spiraling stone castle that was always found teeming with life. Servants, constant guests, game masters- Briarwood castle was a hub of laughter and noise. Here, in the room where they all took their dinners, it was only them and the great crackling fire in their hearth.
Devran stopped his pacing and turned to look at his siblings. He gave them each a long, hard stare, one that did not bode well. "Jon Arryn has passed."
"You have been called," Magnus says. In the company of their siblings, he allowed himself to run a hand through his waving black hair, his rabbit wide eyes a startling blue even in the dim light. "Lord Eddard Stark has called for you."
"I don't understand," Myna finally spoke up, gripping the carved arms of her seat with white knuckles. "For what reason?"
"Lord Eddard has been named the Hand of King Robert. He has been called to King's Landing, and has requested myself and a few of our men to accompany him."
"Lord Eddard has his own forces he could call on," Theodal stilled. "For what use does he have of you?"
The silence was deafening. Orange and yellow lights flicker across their faces, the high cheekbones of the Briarwood family left in haunting shadows. Devran's amber eyes that matched Myna's own glowed eerily beside the flames, his handsome face unusually somber.
"He suspects foul play."
And what a terrible thought.
Lord Eddard was not a man known to tremble easily. For him to call upon the Briarwoods out of all his bannermen, meant something is afoot in the Realm. Despite their steadfast loyalty to the House Stark, the Briarwood's were a strange lot that most Houses did not particularly like or trust. They were too Northern to many. Worshiping the Old Gods and having eyes like beasts have made many Houses wary of the ancient House.
After Myna was lost to the Briarwood forest on her eighth name day for nearly a month and reappeared mostly unscathed, the whispers of her family have only grown. If it were not for their hand in helping back Lord Stark in King Robert's rebellion and their status, Myna was sure her family would have been dropped entirely from the minds of the other gentlefolk.
"Then you must go." She said, standing to stride over to her eldest brother.
"We should all go," Theodal spoke, his grin eager, no doubt already dreaming up romantic meetings with Southern ladies at court and the glory of battle.
"No. I shall go with a few of our men, as Lord Eddard has asked. I will only be taking Myna. Theodal, Magnus, you two must stay behind in Briarwood."
Immediately, Theodal deflated. "Devran-"
Devran straightened up, a muscle in his jaw ticking. "I am the Lord of Briarwood. I have the final say. And I do believe I have just spoken, little brother."
Myna poorly hid her wince. The last year has been hard on them all, but Devran has taken it the hardest. He's already Lord of the castle when all he'd ever wanted to be was a knight. But as the late Lord Randolph Briarwood's son, he was destined to follow in his footsteps. He'd been a favorite squire at King's Landing before being called back home. Already, the downfall of his dreams has soured him.
Though not entirely. Devran relaxed, turning his attention to the youngest in the room. Myna, for all her training, was just as restless as Theodal. Her hands clenched and unclenched in intervals, her arms shaking with the strain to not fidget. He nods at her and Myna clears her throat before speaking.
"We are to go to King's Landing then?"
There was no purpose in fighting against it, no matter how much dismay filled her belly at the thought of traveling so far South. Away from the black trees and shadows of Briarwood, Myna would be thrust into the light of the King's court for all the see and judge. Any hopes of remaining in the North for the rest of her days with the people who loved her best died at the sad look in her brother's eyes.
"We will be going to Winterfell first, then travel alongside Lord Eddard to King's Landing where we will stay until he dismisses us."
"Why Myna? She's only a girl, Devran." Theodal frowned. "King's Landing is no place for a Briarwood, least of all our little Myna."
It was not said with disdain but it stung anyway. Myna knew it to be true. The Briarwood castle with the deep forest was her home, not the warm and bright King's Landing and its exhausting court life. She has re-found use of her voice and remembered all her teachings, but Myna found that playing the role of a noblewoman was becoming harder the older she got. Surely, she would embarrass them all without even knowing it.
"Because the Briarwood forest may not give her back a second time."
Even Theodal had nothing to reply to that. Devran's general worry over Myna was as suffocating as it was endearing. It has only worsened after their father's death.
"Perhaps she will find a match there," Magnus spoke softly, ignoring Theodal's betrayed scoff.
"Perhaps. Perhaps she will simply heal away from the snow and the cold."
"It has been eight years," Myna huffed. "I have fully healed ages ago."
Devran eyed her tousled hair and the frayed ends of her most loved dress, where her bare and muddy feet poke out. He cracked a smile though the sad look never left his amber eyes.
"Of course."
Only ten of Devran's men accompany them on their way to Winterfell. It's an easy enough journey, given that Briarwood resides between Winterfell and the sea. Briarwood forest borders the Wolfwood and so every tree is exactly the same as the last, black in body and weaving thick canopies of shadow overhead. All places in the North held a distinct sameness to them. But in comparison to Briarwood, Winterfell was like a winter wonderland. She has taken to squinting through the influx of sunlight, too used to the darkness of her home.
The closer to Winterfell, the lighter the air. Instead of the heavy bite of Briarwood, the air of Winterfell was almost pleasant. Gloomy dark skies gave way to brighter grey and the scent of salt and sweet sap are exchanged for damp earth and mighty oak trees. This far from the King's Road, the paths were more hidden, their thick-coated horses having to pick their ways more carefully through the snowy terrain.
It is good fortune that they were called before winter. Merely thinking of trying to cross the land during winter sent chills down Myna's back. Winter in the North was brutal.
"We are almost there," Devran spoke, weariness in his tone.
Unlike the fashionable long hair, her two eldest brothers have the traditional cut of Briarwood men. Both sides were shorn short, with the front of his hair just dusting his brows and the back long enough to curl up behind his ears. His beard was thick as well, giving his youthful face a hard edge. She tried to picture what the men of Winterfell looked like and remembered she hasn't seen them in a handful of years.
Self-consciously, she played with a strand of her own dark hair.
"What has you so uneasy? This is Winterfell we are going to, not King's Landing just yet."
"You know what is said about me," Myna said quietly. "I am no better off than a bastard with a reputation so in tatters."
Devran tugged his reins, bringing his horse to stop in front of Myna with a harsh frown. "You are a trueborn child of Randolph Briarwood, no lowly unwanted bastard. Whispers are mere whispers, Myna. You will show them they are wrong."
"You really believe that to be true?" Myna stared at her brother, ignoring the horses that are coming to a stop around them.
"Aye. And in any case, you are better off than cousin Theon. At the very least, you are a wanted guest at Winterfell. He is nothing but a hostage."
"They treat him well enough," Myna argues.
"But they will never treat him as a Stark." Devran prompted his horse forward, seemingly done with the conversation.
Myna's own horse, a dappled grey thing with a mane as dark as her own hair, followed after him without prompting. Even the horse had decided the conversation was done. It didn't feel done. It still felt very much alive, the worry pounding at her heart like fists on a door. But Myna continued to follow her brother, swallowing her sigh.
When they finally arrive at Winterfell, the Starks are standing outside to greet them. Catelyn Stark's Tully red hair was bright against the dreary colors of the North, her hands folded neatly in front of her and her back perfectly straight. Lord Eddard Stark was as stoic as always, his long face watching them ride closer with a solemn air. No doubt he was thinking of their father and the days he would lead them through the gates at his heels, laughing as he spotted his dearest friend.
All five of the Stark children were present. The years have been kind to them, even to little Arya Stark who pulled at her nice dress like it was already chafing at her. Theon is there as well, his smug expression already getting under her skin. Myna looks around but she can't find Jon, her eyes automatically drifting back towards Lady Catelyn in consideration. Must be her doing, then. She was never fond of the bastard boy.
"Lord Briarwood," Lord Eddard spoke, his voice calm but his smile welcoming. "Welcome back to Winterfell."
"Lord Stark," Devran grinned, dismounting from his horse.
"Robb, help our guest dismount." Lady Catelyn tilted her head towards Myna. Robb, in all his glory, stepped forward to help her like the dutiful son he was.
"I've got it, Lady Stark," Theon said, already halfway towards his little cousin. "You've grown taller, little Kraken."
"More like a little wolf," Devran corrected.
Truthfully, Myna felt like neither a Northern wolf nor a Greyjoy Kraken. She admired the loyalty and fierceness of a wolf, but standing amongst the Starks who boasted the sigil of a wolf on their banners, Myna realized how untrue the moniker was. And a Kraken? She hasn't been to Pyke since her uncle, Theon's father, tried a rebellion. Her mother never did take them back to her home after that.
"I always thought she was more of a kind of cat," Arya said, brown eyes so serious for a child.
"A shadowcat," Bran tacked on.
From the way they spoke, it seemed to be a conversation that's been had many times. Despite the warmth in his voice, Bran still can't stand to look her too long in the eyes. She must be staring again. A bad habit left over from days lost in the dark of the woods. Myna averted her gaze.
"A shadowcat?" Myna smiled, letting her cousin sweep her into a side hug. "Flattery will get you everywhere."
"Are you sure you aren't a Kraken?" Robb asked with a smirk.
Theon shoved him lightly. Stablehands came to collect their horses and servants fluttered about to retrieve their belongings. Her horse gave a tired huff as it followed the stable boy who cooed over the dappled flank.
Lord Stark grasps her brother by the forearm, the two of them sharing in a solemn silence of respect. He is the first to open his mouth, her brother patiently waiting to be spoken to.
"Apologies for calling on you so soon, Lord Briarwood. You are not out of your mourning clothes for more than a few months before being dragged out here, and for such dire news as well."
"Lord Stark, there is no need for apologies. I must apologize for Myna's appearance, I know she was not requested, but as you may know, I find it hard to travel without her."
Lord Stark gives Myna a small smile, giving her an appraising glance. "She looks well enough to me, my lord. But her presence is welcome all the same."
"Mother," Rickon whispered none too quietly, "Their eyes are strange."
"Hush, son," Lady Catelyn scolded. "They are loyal friends of ours. My lady, you have only grown more lovely as the years have passed."
If more lovely meant more strange, Myna would have believed her. But she nods in thanks anyways, turning her attention towards Sansa. "Not as lovely as your daughter, Lady Catelyn."
Sansa's answering look was a sweet smile. Shyness clung to the edges of it, but seeing the sincerity on Myna's face caused it to bloom wider. "Thank you."
"Come, let us talk." Lord Eddard says, leading Devran to the door. "We have much to discuss."
The fighting men in Devran's company trailed after their leader with the practiced ease of a pack of animals. A few of her cousins nodded her way, their golden eyes winking in the dim morning light. It felt strange departing from them after traveling so tightly together for the better part of a week, like witnessing a piece of yourself being pulled apart from the body like taffy. Stretched, but never too far.
"Where is your septa, cousin?" Theon asked, looking for someone he won't find.
The lie slides off her tongue easily enough. "She was too ill to join us, I am afraid."
"Not surprising, I am surprised she is still alive. Last we saw her, she looked ready to turn to dust in the wind."
She bit her tongue. Septa Organa had stayed home on Devran's orders. While she is an old woman too fragile to travel, she was also left behind with Maester Wyll to watch over Magnus. Despite appearing outwardly healthy, her brother was prone to fits of terrible melancholy where he'd be content to waste away in bed if he could get away with it. It was her brother's life or her propriety and they had all agreed which was more important.
"Off you go, children. To your lessons." Lady Stark ordered.
"Myna, would you like to accompany us? We are embroidering." Sansa asked.
While she could use the mindless work that embroidering brings, her legs shook with every step. Luckily, her cousin speaks up in her favor.
"From the way she is standing, my cousin seems to be barely awake as it is. Don't want to bore her with silly needlework, that will put her right to sleep." Theon smirks, tossing an arm around Myna's sore shoulders. "By the Drowned God, you smell like a stablehand."
"As if you smell any better," Myna shoots off, elbowing her cousin lightly. "I have been traveling for days. What is your excuse?"
"You are free to rest if you wish. If you get hungry or are in need of something, let the servants know and they can bring it to you. Later, we will be getting ready to receive King Robert and his men. They should be here by tomorrow if not the day after." Lady Catelyn smiled, the thing small and tight at the corners though her eyes held kindness as she looked over Myna's exhausted form.
"Rest would be lovely," Myna agreed. "Thank you, my lady."
"You heard her, on to your lessons."
The children sans Sansa and Robb groaned, though even Robb seemed disappointed by the prospect of lessons. Sansa took the orders like she did anything, with the grace of her mother. Theo tugged her along towards her chambers. The room was the same as when she'd last visited it, the lush fur carpet sinking beneath her feet and the feathered bed begging to be laid upon. But before she could let herself sink into its embrace, she turned to her cousin with furrowed brows.
"Why did Jon not receive us?"
Theon gave a dismissive shrug. "Likely that Lady Stark didn't want her husband's bastard to ruin the image of a perfect family. Who cares? It's just Jon."
Myna rolled her eyes. "You are still as pleasant as always, cousin."
"You are becoming a woman, little Kraken. It isn't appropriate for him to greet you now. Look at you, in your fine dress. You are no longer a child who can be seen roughing it with a bastard."
"I may have come of age, but I am no lady."
"Might be better off with the Wildlings then," Theon laughed. "Get some sleep. You will need it if you wish to keep pretending."
"Brooding again, I see."
Jon flinched, looking around him with his hand coming to rest on the hilt of his sword. The godswood was dark, the moon glinting against the snow and straining to paint the ground with its light past the thick canopy of trees. The grove where Winterfell's weirwood tree sat was silent, save for the occasional small animal or light breeze that ruffled the leaves. Black chilled water rippled in the small pool beneath the brooding weirwood with an ancient face carved in its bone-white bark.
Jon's direwolf pup remains calm, if not curious. He is already at Jon's knees, his pure white fur helping him blend in the snow. Deep red eyes find hers in the darkness and she grins, stepping out of the shadows.
Seeing it was only Myna, Jon relaxed.
"You weren't there when I came. I would bite you for that if I didn't think your direwolf would bite me in return."
"Biting is not a very good fighting technique."
"Who says I wish to fight? Maybe I simply just like to bite. I am half-feral, according to rumors."
"You shouldn't listen to rumors."
As always, Jon's face was solemn. He was painfully earnest in the worst of times, but in the best of times, Myna found his honesty an admirable trait. Her grin cracked wider. Out of all the children, he looked most like his father. Not a trace of his mother lingered in his long pale face, the dark of his eyes and hair purely of the North. Still, he was not Lady Catelyn's child. It was already uncommon for him to be in the home of his father as a bastard, but to be treated as an equal to his trueborn siblings would have driven Catelyn into a frenzy.
"Rumors hold some truth to them, at times. Most lies often do." Myna comes to stand before him, taking in the added height and the scruff that has begun to grow along his jaw. He looked less like the boy she remembered from when she'd last seen him two years ago and more like a man. "What has you brooding so deeply?"
"I am not brooding. I am thinking."
"Brooding, thinking, both are the same with you." Myna grinned at him. She turns her attention to the pup, bending to let him sniff her hand. The pup gave it a curious lick before going about its way, gone like it had never been there at all. "Its name?"
"His name is Ghost."
"Fitting name, with that fur of his. Are your siblings terribly jealous of the name?"
"Ayra named hers Nymeria. I think she will be fine."
"Well, I for one am terribly jealous of you all. I wish I had a direwolf. Just where did you find him?"
The story he tells is not a happy one. Jon speaks of a mother wolf, rotting with an antler deep in her throat, and her five pups desperately yearning for milk. Had it not been for his quick thinking and Eddard's guilt, the pups would have made fur rugs by now, very likely at her cousin's blade. And just when he'd thought they'd all been found, Ghost had made himself known. As if turned away from his mother for his albino coloring and small stature, Ghost had been driven from the rest of his siblings and would surely have perished if Jon hadn't gone back for him.
"I am glad you went back. He deserves his chance at life, even if it's with a brooder like you. Now, tell me what has you thinking so hard?"
Jon cracked a smile at her insistent nature but it fell as quickly as it came. "Uncle Benjen has come. I am taking the black."
Myna stilled.
"You're going to become a crow."
"Aye."
Myna's smile didn't fall. She couldn't let it, not in front of Jon, who already looked so miserable in his skin like it was a garment that simply didn't fit. But for him to join all the rapers, thieves, and other less than honorable criminals of the Realm seemed like a poor ending to his story. A bastard boy who grew in comfort is being dropped off at the Wall like a dog on the side of the road. There were other bastards that took the black, but she never thought of Jon as becoming one of them.
Her brothers have spoken at length about the Wall and its unsavory inhibitors. It used to be filled with lords and those willing to give their life for the Seven Kingdoms, and now it was nothing more than a snow-filled prison. They spat out the name 'crow' out of venomous mouths. And Jon was going to give up his life and die for the name.
"Are you sure that is what you wish for?"
He shoots her a look and clenches his fists, turning to look at the heart tree. Tear tracks in the form of red sap ran from the eyes as if it also is miserable.
"You will make a great crow." She too turns to look at the tree, waiting for Jon's internal wounds to stop hurting enough for him to speak.
It takes a few moments. Utter silence fills the empty spaces around them. Jon was a hard companion to keep at times, with his sullenness and easy-to-wound heart. He was always ready for a slight, more nervous dog than boy at times. Luckily for them both, Myna was a stubborn one.
"Black is your color. It will suit you."
"We won't be seeing each other again for a very long time." Jon sighed.
It's all he offers her, a crumb to the bitter feast of his thoughts. Myna lets herself hover as close to him as possible, too close to be proper and yet it feels a million yards away. Her shoulder grazes his and warmth spreads through her at the contact.
"We will make the best of the time we do have. And oh, look, you have perfectly capable hands. I am sure they will allow letters."
That tiny smile was back on his face and Myna internally preened. "I will write as often as I can."
"If you don't want me to trek through along King's Road and come standing beneath that fabled giant ice wall screaming like a goat, you will keep to that promise."
His laughter comes forth as a puff of air. "You would, wouldn't you?"
Myna caught his eyes, her face the perfect painting of seriousness. "I would scream like a goat and drag the gods, old and new, into our fight if I don't get a letter in the next few months from you. Then it won't only be me you have to ask for forgiveness from."
Watching Jon laugh and knowing she made him do it was two of the most satisfying things in the Realm. His laughter was always hard fought for when he got lost in his mind like this, and it makes her feel almost special to know how to get him out of it. She lets herself rest against him for a moment, the two of them listening to the leaves and each other's breathing.
When he began to tense, Myna pulled away. "I better return to my chambers. I will leave you to your brooding."
"It's not brooding," He grumbled.
"Thinking, then. Good night, Jon."
"Good night, Myna."
That night, sleep comes fitfully for the first time in years.
Fevered dreams of walking barefoot in the forest plagued her, her arms and face coated in warm liquid that smells of copper. Twigs prickle at her scalp from where they are tangled in her hair, and her worn boots are crusted in mud. She runs through the forest, panting but unafraid, jumping over every rock and fallen branch with ease. Here in the Briarwood forest, little light penetrates the thick canopy of leaves overhead and yet the world stands before her in perfect clarity.
A babbling brook promises a mouthful of crisp cold water not too far off and her dream self slows to a stop. Myna stops before it, her face reflected back at her from the clear water. Like this, she can believe the rumors about herself. Her eyes are the gold of a beast, with her pupils blown like a cat in the middle of a hunt. Blood drips from her chin into the water, tainting everything it touches.
Her mouth opens wide in a scream. Out pours a river of red to turn the water crimson.
On and on the dream repeats itself, until red is the only color she can see.
Myna jolts awake, her breath catching in her throat.
She scrambles from beneath her pile of fur blankets and heads straight for the polished silver mirror that rests on her chest of belongings. Her eyes are as amber as always and yet she flinches away from the sight of them, the memory of the terrible gaze from her dream too fresh to bear. Not for the first time, she wished she had her mother's eyes. Oceanic blue instead of strange, unsettling amber. Or even the deep rich brown of Jon's eyes, that color so reminiscent of the dark of Briarwood.
She wraps her arms around herself and tries to steady her breathing.
Outside her window, the Stark's direwolves begin to howl.
AN: I know I'm years late to the fandom but I couldn't help myself. I hope you enjoyed the first taste of Myna! I have so much planned for her. It's going to be a rather dark story but I promise there are going to be spots of light throughout to not drag us all down into misery lol
