Yep, It's been awhile.

2018 is almost over, but hey NEW CHAPTER! This is pretty long, so I hope that appeases you readers. I got a bit lost with this story, but am somewhat on track.

A reminder of ages:

Lyanna & Anya: 9 years

Benjen: 5 years

Brandon & Robert: 16 years

Ned: 15 years

I'm gonna try and hurry through this Lady gathering arc, to get more to my original plot plans. The Lady Gathering arc is more of me trying to build the founding basics for future plot things.

Also, please note that there is a considerable time gap between Ned getting letters and sending them. After all ravens weren't that fast and the Vale was like several weeks travel- almost a month.

This means anything I write from Ned and Robert's point of view, is several days after everything has already happened in Winterfell.

Thank you for your patience.

Enjoy the read.


Chapter 8: Day 2- Ride or Die

Anya wakes to a morning of silence and stillness. It is early, too early perhaps as not even the sky has fully lightened. Regardless, sleep has released her from it's hold and she is awake. It is not the first time she has woken before the castle and even the sky. Easily she goes about dressing herself all the while, mentally viewing her chore list for the day's activities.

She sinks with frustration when she can not deny the truth any longer.

"I shouldn't have said such things" She mumbles to herself

Anya's mind takes her back to last night. As she recalls the shouting match between Lyanna and herself, her stomach churns uncomfortably. There is a part of her that is disgusted, guilt ridden and horrified at what she had spat at her sister. A part of her that is furiously questioning what came over her and why had she done it. She had been cruel with her words and made Lyanna cry.

She had hurt and shamed her sister.

Just as Anya begins to lose herself to the wanton urge encouraging her to seek and apologize. Another part of her whispers in her mind. The other part of her that is filled with justification and satisfaction. This part of her whispers that they were in the right. That Lyanna deserved to hear all she had said. She lets such whispers sway her feelings as it convinces her she spoke nothing but truth.

By the time the sun has begun to lighten the sky, Anya has refreshed her knowledge for her studies. She dresses slowly, takes her time in choosing her outfit for the day's activities. She is stalling and she knows it. Therefore she is relieved when she hears the knock on her door .

"Enter." She bids while securing her braid.

"Once again I am late. I apologize my lady." The maid expresses with frustration.

Anya can feel her lips twitch with fondness and blames her emotional state for the weakening of her mask. It takes a few seconds of effort for her face to settle back into it's blank state.

"I wake early. It is no fault of yours and I am not an invalid who cannot dress herself."

"It is not right for a Lady to need to dress herself. It is the duty of a hand maid to ensure and aid their lady." The maid refutes

Anya opens her mouth to speak but immediately snaps it shut. 'I am not a lady' she had almost said in jest. Something she had sometimes done to mimic Lyanna and tease the help. Immediately her mind takes her back to last nights dramatics. Lyanna sobbing and crying in her arms and the rage she felt.

"My Lady?"

Anya's mask steels and the sudden shift causes the hand maid to step back timidly. It is not right to see such a switch on a child's face.

"I am fine. You may leave and tend to your other duties."

"But I am to escort you to-"

"This castle is my home. I can most certainly find my way on my own."

The maid hesitates but a cold stare from Anya has her nodding and leaving. Alone again, Anya takes several breaths to calm and steady her nerves. She inwardly scolds herself for being so ridiculous. It is only Lyanna and she did nothing wrong, they had made up. There is no reason to be-

It overwhelms her suddenly, her deepest fears about last nights incident.

What if Lyanna never speaks to her again? What if someone heard and told father? What if Brandon finds out she made Lyanna cry? He'd be so angry. Father would be so disappointed and Benjen- Benjen might think everyone is fighting again.

Anya clenches her hands and takes several breaths to calm her mind. She recites the names of her ancestors and their historical deeds. She repeats it all until she feels her panic and hysteria recede.

"Winter is coming." She mumbles feeling comforted by her House words.

Steeling her mask once more, she leaves her bed chambers.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Jonelle Cerwyn loves puzzles. She enjoys the lure of chaos, confusion and mystery. She craves the satisfaction of discovering a solution and the victory she feels when she triumphs complications. As a woman, rarely does she ever come across such problems and puzzles. Too often her time is accosted by silly gossip and Lady duties. She'd practically begged her Father to allow her to attend the Lady Gathering in Winterfell.

She'd been excited over what puzzles she'd find in Winterfell.

So far, she felt slightly disappointed at what she'd come to see. Though the verbal games between Barbary Ryswell and the Little Lady Stark had been most enjoyable. Jonelle had expected more from the Little Lady Anya. The child was by no means boring- but she was not as exciting as Jonelle had hoped. Pretty, Polite and Proper. Quiet, Mild and Tame. Smart, Wise and Witty.

She had been hoping for more.

Lady Lyanna Stark was similar but definitely not much interest. The wild she-wolf was everything the small folk gossip regaled. A rebellious she-wolf who refused to be caged. A wildling in a lady's dresses. At most, Jonelle thought Lyanna Stark simply amusing- but only to a point. The little she-wolf had been pitiful to watch. Absolutely clueless at how much a fool she seemed every time she missed Barbary Ryswell's pretty taunts.

Though it did highlight an interesting matter.

Jonelle hadn't missed the tension that continued to build in Anya Stark, each time Barbary opened her mouth. By the end of the night when they were all bidding their well wishes for sleep. She'd noticed that both Stark daughters were tense. However, whilst one seemed tense with hot fury in her eyes. The other was bristling with icy storm winds within her gaze.

The contrast, the opposing differences between the sisters fascinated her.

She simply had to see more, curious as to what chaos would emerge if ever the two clashed. Or perhaps even, what chaos would occur if they were to team up together.

"My what good spirits you appear to be in today, Lady Cerwyn" Lady Mormont snickered

"And why shouldn't I be?"

"I do not mean to accuse. I'm simply curious as to what could possibly have you so cheery"

Lady Mormont is another interesting figure. Jonelle had once been fascinated by House Mormont and is well aware her hand is being considered by Jorah Mormont. The Bear House and their ways were admirable. She could see herself living comfortably if the marriage proposal were to be confirmed.

"A day so bright deserves a most cheery mood, do you not agree?"

The word parle among all these women is slowly growing bothersome. She is sure she will tire of the word games by the end of the week. It is in this sense, Lady Mormont fascinates her. How does the Bear Lady manage to speak so bluntly, yet still hide many unspoken words in her sentences.

The two share conspicuous looks, silently agreeing to a brief alliance in scouting the two Stark daughters.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Maege Mormont grins and feels better at knowing she has secured herself an ally. It had taken a night of thought for her to decide on who to approach. True to their whispered reputation, House Mormont is loyal to House Stark. They will waste no time in answering any call House Stark would give.

But they are not Blind Loyalists to the House of Wolves.

It is why she is here.

Maege took to heart her father's words. She could only hope her brother was doing the same with the time he spends with the Stark Heir. The day may come where the Starks will call for aid or perhaps even war. House Mormont taught every member of it's house equally. So Maege had received the same preparation and training as her brother to a point. The politics of man was something they had not taught her. Instead she was forced to learn the political games of women.

Regardless, Maege had discovered she had little patience for politics.

Still, the Lady gathering was too great an opportunity to ignore. So she had agreed when asked by her father to attend. She had assured herself that Lyanna Stark's reputation most likely spoke truth so she will not be so obvious in her lack of discipline. Maege was shocked to discover she was more Lady trained than she thought.

Though she had survived the first day, the rest of the week could not be guaranteed.

She had enlisted help. She could only hope Lady Cerwyn was a great choice.

When the Stark sisters joined them, Maege noticed immediately how Donella Hornwood never strayed too far. A quirked eyebrow to Lady Cerwyn confirmed her suspicions that the older Lady had conceded to the Stark daughters. Maege was impressed with how quickly the Starks had managed to secure such alliance.

The Lady Gathering had only begun a day ago.

She couldn't help but wonder who would be next?

"So! What adventures have you planned for us today my ladies?" Lady Cerwyn prompted.

All eyes turned to where the Stark sisters had been taking their meal. Maege had not been the only one to notice the rather quiet tension between the two. A fact she could already see Barbary Ryswell scheming to use to her advantage. Lady Anya Stark had embarrassed her yesterday and Lyanna Stark was too easy a target. Maege hid her scowl behind her goblet. The honor and trust her house cultivated towards the Starks urged her to interfere and put an end to Lady Ryswells schemes. However, she wanted to see more- wished to find in the Stark sisters a reason to declare her loyalty to them.

"Heaven forbid it involve more walking" Barbary muttered behind her hand to another.

The giggling was not subtle, nor were the watching eyes. Maege waited to see if Anya Stark would scold Lady Ryswell as she'd so far been doing. Intriguingly enough, the girl kept quiet- only leveling an arched brow and cold eyes at the giggling women. The stare was unrelenting, so cold and intense that it made the women giggling uncomfortable. The giggling tapers off until it fades entirely and none of the women can hold their heads high. Their eyes search their platters and they flush a light pink.

"I-I wouldn't mind walking. Winterfell is said to be a great beauty in all the books and tales shared. Would it truly be so bothersome to walk and roam such historic beauty sister?" Bethany Ryswell softly inquires

From the corner of her eyes, Maege notes how Lady Cerwyn perks with interest while Lady Hornwood hides her smile behind her own goblet. All the while, Barbary Ryswell has grown a plum shade of red and is narrowly staring at her sister.

"A walk will be sure to do wonders. Perhaps we can start with a short stroll in the courtyard, only of course if you agree Lady Stark?" Lady Hornwood simpers looking at Lyanna.

"Certainly, a walk will do us all wonders!" Lyanna quickly agrees with a wide smile.

The action filled with so much strain- no one could possibly ignore it. Yet nothing is said as Barbary Ryswell seems to be too in shock at her sister not supporting her jabs. Lyanna rises from her seat with all the grace of a stumbling duckling and addresses them distractedly.

"If you will excuse me Ladies. I will be off to ensure the help are aware of our plans for the day."

Maege expects that Anya Stark will follow her sister not long after. She's proven wrong when the younger Stark sister remains in her seat. She notes the surprise on even Lady Hornwood's face, along with the subtle glee in Lady Cerwyn's gaze. Maege feels disappointed as she contemplates the possibility that already the Stark sister's are faltering.

"Lady Ryswell," Anya addresses, looking at Barbary to indicate which sister she means.

The silence among them is heavy with anticipation. All of them curious as to what the little lady might say next. Anya's expression doesn't twitch a bit and allows no glimpse to her thoughts. The face she wears so cold and stiff- its unnatural to witness on a child.

"Since your arrival, I've noticed your commentary is expressed with immense dissatisfaction."

No one says a word but Lady Cerwyn's expression is bright with glee. Maege herself is unable to hide the mirth she feels. The feeling grows greater as she watches Barbary Ryswell grow a purple shade of red. She wonders if she should consider Anya Stark more arrogant or impulsive. As yet again she- who is also younger, has scolded another lady so brazenly.

"For that….. I must apologize."

All eyes show surprise at the apology but none more so than Barbary. No one expected Lady Anya Stark to apologize. Especially as they knew she was not in the wrong to scold Barbary Ryswell. Maege can't figure out the girls intentions or motives. She cannot understand just what sort of political play Anya Stark is using and it bothers her.

"Well, Of course." Barbary sniffs pompously.

"Hm….though I request you no longer direct your dissatisfaction towards my sister." Anya continues whilst idly lifting her goblet to drink.

"What is it that you said- as our host you intend to ensure we experience a pleasant stay? Well in such a sense I am only letting you know how unpleasant my experience is becoming. I simply do not wish for your sister to fail as a hostess." Barbary simpers

Anya only dips her head slightly in acquiesce. She appears passive but cold- so cold it causes shivers to travel down Maege's arms. It is hard to remember the girl before them is simply a child. Maege darts a gaze over to Lady Cerwyn and sees how her grin has turned into a smirk.

"Lyanna will not fail to host any of you I promise you this. My sisters wrong doings are mine to share. An insult to her is an insult to me. A failure of hers is a failure of mine. We are sisters born only 11 moons apart by the will of the gods. Surely as a sister….. you too understand."

Maege is not the only one who silently gulps. Though her words are spoken as an apology and her eyes are trained on Barbary. Maege feels as if they are not for the elder Ryswell but for the younger. From how stiffly Bethany Ryswell sits and the pale color of her cheeks, she too has heard the true message.

'Lyanna will not fail to host any of you because she is not alone. If she fails so will I, if she is insulted so am I. We are sisters- they say we are blessed by the gods for our close births. Continue to target Lyanna and I will retaliate as if it were an attack against my own. Your sister tests my patience… be sure of where you truly stand."

It is a message to all who noticed the tension between the Stark sisters. It is a warning- a threat combined into one. The Stark sisters are united, and despite the tension between them Anya Stark will not let Lyanna fall.

"Of course Lady Stark. You have my complete understanding." Bethany Ryswell whispered in place of her sister.

"You are kind Lady Bethany, but I am more concerned Lady Barbary will misunderstand."

The soft smile Anya Stark wore was sharp like pointed ice. Maege remembered her father once describing the Starks as cold blooded wolves. She had never thought the description to be anything other than an expression of respect. Yet witnessing this Stark child before her- she finds that it is the only description she finds apt to use.

"Now, now. You've made your apology- what use is dwelling on such matters now that it has been forgiven." Barbary tittered with a light wave of her hand.

Lyanna Stark's return must have been timed by the gods. The older Stark sister did not notice the icy tension among the gathered ladies. She did not question the utter silence among them- or the pleasant way Anya Stark daintily finished her meal. In fact, by trying to avoid the gaze of her sister, Lyanna missed the triumphant gleam in her eyes.

For only another Stark would notice the prideful gleam of a wolf after a satisfying meal.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Brandon made quick work of his plan. Eager to begin the scheme and watch it in motion. He began by first skirting his way to the kitchens. He hovered in a corner and scouted out the help- contemplating which maiden would be most easy to charm. It did not take long to choose, as his target profile simply needed to be three things: A young maid, a girl of wishful fantasies and charged with helping the new day's lady activity.

The perfect moment came to be when she was making way to pass his corner. She was alone and distracted in her head. A perfect moment for him to fake a hurried collision and tease from her the information he needed.

"Oh! Lord Brandon, forgive me m'lord I did not mean to-"

Brandon cut her off with a simple raise of his hand. He smirked as she blushed a red so fierce she looked much like a tomato. Brandon made a show of quirking his brow and allowing his gaze to travel heatedly down her person. He clearly heard the hitch of her breath and turned his smirk into a grin. This was just too easy.

"Forgive you? Well I suppose I could… though I find I am in need of something a little more than a simple apology."

He watched as his words worked their magic and twisted her vulnerable little mind. He didn't have to wait long as the girl stuttered out a shy but sultry attempt of a response.

"Of course m'lord…..A-anything you wish."

Brandon would have found the attempt cute, but he had other things on his mind. Minutes later, he had her trapped against a wall and between heated gasps- she confessed the activities planned for the Lady's gathering for the day. She panted and huffed out all the whispered gossips she'd heard between Barbary Ryswell and her sister. She practically sang in his ears all the precautions his father had taken to ensure Brandon and the other men would not be able to interfere. But then, Brandon was told more then he expected and she undoubtedly planned to share. She told of how the idea of a gathering began- told him of how the envy and jealousy of the help had been witnessed by Anya. She spilled to him everything his father and sister's either did not already know, or ensured he heard nothing of it.

When he was done, he released her with a groan of both satisfaction and victory. He stood and straightened his attire with ease as the maid before him struggled to catch her breath. Once dressed, he looked down at her with a dark gleam in his eyes and snarl on his lips.

"I must thank you for your help, but I'm afraid you're services are no longer needed here in this castle."

As he watched her eyes widen with shock and horror, Brandon felt gratification fill him. He repeated his words and smiled at the way her tears began to well. Did she truly think he would not hear it? The envy and jealousy beneath her words, the arrogance she tried to hide when she spoke of his sisters. Perhaps she had a right to feel frustration with Lyanna's wild ways, perhaps she had reasons to envy Anya for her ease of life. However, confessing such secrets to their brother was foolish. To be so easily persuaded to share the inner secrets of his home against the orders of his father?

That deserved punishment.

Brandon told her as much- listed all the ways she deserved his punishment. When he finished she was a sobbing mess and begging at his feet. Brandon could only sigh at the drama but felt a small bit of pity as he knew he had targeted her. However, He was no saint and honor was something he had little care for. The cold of the north and the savagery of winter has long lived in his heart since the death of his mother.

"Be careful little girl for the big bad wolf knows not how to smile. Be careful little girl for the wolf only knows how to devour his prey, his teeth do not gleam in welcome. They shine in lust for a tasty treat. Be careful little girl with your cloak of white, the wolf will stain it red and warm himself with your flesh."

As he watched her scramble in tears and beg at his feet. Brandon found himself remembering the tale his mother told him as a child. The tale told of a wolf so savage with hunger he lured a foolish little girl to his den. There he treated her like a princess and enamored her with his home. When she was too distracted with the walls of his home, the wolf tore into her flesh. He devoured her bit by bit and savored the taste of her on his tongue. The villagers never found the wolf, nor did they find the girls body. All they found were the red stained tatters of her pure white cloak.

Brandon always found himself fascinated with the wolf.

More so now than ever before.

"Please milord, have mercy."

Brandon sighed but squatted down till he could meet her eyes easily. He wiped at her tears and gave her a charming smirk. He watched her attempt to smile back and smiled.

"When winter comes….. does it ever have mercy?"

The maid trembled but shakes her head.

"Of course not. Winter takes and takes until it is satisfied. All one can ever do is prepare and wait till it's come and gone."

She is sobbing again but Brandon does not feel anything at the sight.

His heart had long grown cold when his mother died.

"You should have known better."

Brandon motions for one of the nearby guards to come. He instructs them to escort the sobbing woman out of Winterfell and see to it her family is informed as to why she is no longer welcomed in Winterfell. It doesn't take long for his orders to be carried out. Something he is extremely pleased with as it warns the rest of the help. As he roams the corridors he hears the help whisper and fearfully duck their heads. They are too afraid to catch his eyes and when he passes they all turn silent.

Good.

They should be afraid for Brandon will not tolerate any slander against his little sisters.

He begins the second stage of his plan with little time wasted. He finds the gathering of ladies touring the courtyard- far enough from the men and close to the stables. He stalls for a bit, opting to watch the interaction among them all. He focuses his attention on his little sisters. The anger he feels at seeing them so distant threatened to consume him once more. But with great effort he manages to wrestle it into submission.

He tracks their movements, makes note of any changes in their dynamics.

What he sees pleases him.

Its only a matter of time until Lady Mormont and Cerwyn concede to whatever scheme Anya has set in play. Brandon may not know specifically what Anya has planned, but so far he likes what he sees.

Allies, support, securing loyalty to their house.

The pride he feels as both an Older brother and Heir to their house is immense.

Their tour must be coming to an end, because Lyanna has stopped and looks unsure of to do next. She still avoids meeting Anya's eyes. Instead she darts her eyes at everything else. Before the silence can stretch for too long. Anya speaks, and Brandon straightens with interest.

"Truly, I hope you have all enjoyed the events of today so far."

"Hmm…. I suppose it was quite enlightening."

"Most pleasing and wondrous. Your ancestry shines brightly and the history of your house sings in the structure of the castle itself." Bethany Ryswell praises.

Brandon notes how Anya's lips twitch just a bit at her words. At the same time he sees how Barabry Ryswell scowls and glares at her sister. Most interestingly of all is the way Lyanna seems to sour at the younger Ryswell lady. How amusing, perhaps his plans can wait a little while longer.

"Yes well, I'm glad you enjoyed it" Lyanna tightly remarks with a strained smile.

Anya tries not to frown at the tone Lyanna spoke with. Especially when she sees the younger Ryswell turn meek and look down as if chastened.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

The ugly feeling of something green burns in Lyanna's chest. She'd noticed halfway through the tour how closely Bethany Ryswell drifted to Anya. She grew distracted at seeing such a thing, and it irritated her to see the two share pleasantries and polite smiles. So lost to her irritation she took no notice of how Barbary Ryswell shared her sentiments.

Lyanna hated how Bethany followed after Anya. She hated the way the stupid Ryswell smiled so shyly with praise at every fact Anya shared about their home. Lyanna found herself hating the younger Ryswell, just a little more than the elder.

And perhaps- maybe just a little, she was mad at Anya for not refusing the friendly advances.

More than ever, Lyanna wished she had a sword or even her bow and arrow so she could scare the meek Ryswell away. When they finally finished the tour of the grounds, Lyanna tried her best not to show her relief. Most of all her absolute panic at the fact she had no idea what they should be doing next. Lyanna hears a giggle at her side and tries not to startle at Lady Cerwyn's appearance by her side. She'd not even noticed the Lady appear by her side, too busy with watching and avoiding Anya.

"I wouldn't worry too much Lady Lyanna," she whispered with a teasing little smirk.

"Worry? I've nothing to worry about." Lyanna bluffed

Lady Cerwyn giggled and Lyanna tried not to let her anger show. She felt as if Lady Cerwyn were making her to be a fool. Of course Lyanna was not like her sister who was well practiced in hiding her emotions.

Before any more small talk could be had, Anya called the gathered ladies to attention.

"My Ladies, My sister and I are humbled to hear your praises for our home. Of course, I know that with all such touring and talk of our ancestry one must be in dire need of something exciting."

The ladies burst into tittering giggles of agreement as if Anya had just told such a funny jape. Lyanna doesn't get what is so funny but she laughs just the same. Anya leads them to the stables, and Lyanna tries to damper her hopes. She is supposed to be a lady and ladies do not go free riding or greet horses as if they are equals.

It doesn't stop her eyes from staring hopelessly at her own horse.

"What excitement are we to find in the stables?" Barbary sneers with a huff.

Lyanna looks at her sister and marvels at how sharply she smiles. She has seen her sisters mask wear many expressions. Yet this is the first she has ever seen her little sister smile with such savagery. Although it is her eyes that tell Lyanna plenty more- it screams so loudly that anyone will simply know once they'd met her sisters' gaze what they say. The giggle Lady Cerwyn gives tells Lyanna that she hears the insult screamed in Anya's eyes. The smirk Lady Hornwood hides behind her paper fan is conspiring and laced with approval.

Lyanna is suddenly aware of the conversation that is being had, all without a single word being spoken. She hears it plain as one would hear the crow of a rooster in the early morn. She is suddenly aware that the Ladies beside Lyea Manderly are gossiping about the lack of tact Barbary Ryswell is showing. She is aware that Bethany Ryswell is tense with agitation towards her sister and embarrassment. She is aware that Lady Hornwood is scheming something troublesome for the eldest Ryswell.

"Truly Lady Ryswell speaks the most funniest things, don't you agree Lady Lyanna?" Lady Cerwyn whispers in her ears.

Lyanna hears her true words however.

'House Ryswell truthfully are so arrogant with ignorance.'

Lyanna swallows and her mind replays the words Anya had screamed at her the night before.

She truly had not listened before, and her mind is troubled. She can't help but anxiously wonder what had been silently whispered and spoken about her. She looks back at her little sister and simply stares.

Is this what Brandon had meant when he said the language of women is a mystery to most men?

Is this what she'd been running away from?

Were the lessons Anya dutifully excelled in geared towards learning the language of ladies?

They are gathered in the stables, among horses and hay. A place Lyanna has always felt most at home and like herself. However, in this instance she feels most out of place and strange. More than ever, she does not feel as if she belongs.

"What better way to finish the day, then to indulge in a pleasant ride." Anya finishes with a soft and inviting smile. It does little to hide the sharp baring of fangs behind her lips.

Lyanna is finally seeing Anya as she truly is.

Anya truly is the Lady Stark they herald her to be.

The elder Stark sister is much too swarmed with her sudden revelation that she startles when Anya turns to her. She subconsciously tenses, as she'd not met her sister's gaze all day so far. Briefly, her mind flashes back to the cold blistering glare she'd been under the night before. She hears the roaring angered words spat past her sister's lips and feels the ache of hurt and humiliation. She feels her throat ache with want to cry at the remembrance.

Lyanna is a wolf of winter, a predator. Yet in this moment she has never felt more like prey.

But then, Anya smiles at her.

Not the smile she'd paint on her mask.

This smile is the one she used to wear before their mother died.

Anya is smiling at her like she used to when she was six and Lyanna seven.

Anya smiles at Lyanna, like she is her knight and protector.

Lyanna cares about nothing else but the fact her sister is smiling at her as if she is her protector. She clings to the image of her sweet smiling, shy little sister and erases the memory of the night before. She chases it from her memory as if it is a bad dream.

She lets herself fall into the false reality she's created in her mind.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Anya is nervous.

She has enough trust in her mask not to worry about slipping. However, that does not stop herself from thinking the worst. She hoped that by including the horse riding, Lyanna would face her and see the apology for what it was. She can tell that despite the words they'd shared before parting for the night, Lyanna was still upset.

Anya had been puzzled on what to do about it.

She loved Lyanna- how could she not, she was her sister.

But Anya was not at all sorry.

She couldn't bring herself to speak the words.

She held hope that her sister was more versed with reading actions than hearing words.

"What say you, sister dearest? A short race among ladies?" Anya offered, holding out the reigns for Lyanna's horse.

Anya smiles and hopes her sincerity can be seen.

She ignores the Ladies in attendance, briefly allowing a moment of nonattendance. She must, because Lyanna is more important than her plans. Lyanna is blood and family- pack. Even if everything she is trying to accomplish is for Lyanna's sake, she would risk it all.

Pack always comes first.

When Lyanna grins wicked with mischief and accepts the reigns, Anya feels her shoulders drop with relief. Despite the relief she feels, she is quick to bring her mask back into place. Lyanna laughs and it is wild- and so purely Lyanna, that Anya knows her eyes beam with pride.

"If you insist, little sister."

Anya can hear Barbary Ryswell and a few of the ladies who have allied themselves with Lady Manderly, mutter and titter with disapproval. They are all watching as Lyanna goes about inspecting the horses and conversing with the stable boys. Before them, Anya watches her sister flourish with confidence. The change in Lyanna is hard to ignore as her natural self comes to the surface.

"Horse racing! What an uncouth manner of showing for a lady." One whispers.

Anya will not let such a thing slide. Not when the horse racing is her way of apology to her sister.

"I think you have forgotten then, my lady."

Anya ensures she is smiling a sugary sweet smile that would sicken anyone it's cast upon.

All eyes are on her, and not Lyanna. A matter that she is glad for, as she wants her unspoken words to be heard and obeyed.

"We are Northerners, the wild nature of cold and the blessings of the Old Gods course through us. Blood and bone, our ancestors have long bled and died for the way of the North."

The silence that follows is stiff and challenging, as Anya dares them to disagree. When no one speaks after a few more beats, she finishes her threat with a smirk that hides the nasty snarl she wishes to give.

"The nature of Southerners will always ever be a playful dally among us. Will it not?"

'The North remembers. Never forget the truth of the North despite how we play at Southern politics.'

She is surprised when it is Lady Cerwyn who speaks first. There is a curious glittering of excitement in her gaze. Anya finds it intriguing, but she's not stupid enough to trust it.

"I think I speak for everyone when I say you are most surprising. I look forward to seeing what else this Lady Gathering will bring."

Lady Cerwyn tilts her head, enough for Anya to realize just what she has truly won from the Lady.

She doesn't hesitate to reply in kind.

"I vow not to disappoint."

Lady Cerwyn giggles, and Anya likens it to the sound of swords being sharpened.

"I'd expect nothing else Lady Anya."

As they saddle their horses, under Lyanna's exuberant instruction. Anya contemplates her recent addition to her allies. She had planned to induct each ally by way of the ritual like she'd done with Lady Hornwood. However, Lady Cerwyn has shown her that she is not one who would appreciate such a thing. In fact, Jonelle Cerwyn has only proved to be the most dangerous of her allies.

Cerwyn is a risk, but Anya would be a fool to deny her uses.

House Hornwood: Righteous in Wrath

House Cerwyn: Honed and Ready

House Stark: Winter is coming.

Anya inwardly smirks at her victories so far. It's almost poetic, how perfectly the allying of their house words take the form of a battle cry. She organised the gathering of ladies on a whim, but had seen the potential for more. She'd not expected such promising rewards.

"On my count." Lyanna led, motioning for the ladies to ready for the race.

Lyanna sits comfortably on her horse and looks every bit like the knight she wishes to be. She holds her fist high, and the gathered ladies watch it intently.

Yes, they are ladies- but they are nothing like the pretty dolls dressed with frills and jewels in the south.

They are Northerners.

And in the North, every day is about survival.

"READY!"

Here, where there are no men to pry and obey.

Here, where they are free to be women- free to be ladies.

Here, they will not pretend to be simply pretty, dainty things.

"GO!"

Here, they will show just how deadly a woman can be.

Altogether, the gathered ladies, hike their dresses high and ride. They ride as if they are to go to battle. They ride and race against each other as if they have been starved and caged. They care not for the savage wilderness spread on their lips like war paint. They are not men- They are ladies who are greedily relishing in their freedom from the male gaze.

Lyanna and Anya ride side by side, leading the gathering.

They look at each other and share wide stretched smiles before their teeth are bared and they challenge each other. Lyanna lifts her head back and howls to the sky like a wildling, behind them Lady Mormont roars with laughter. The rushing thrill of it all has them in cackling giggles and breathless laughter. Anya doesn't voice her own feeling of freedom, but she does let her perfectly sculpted mask fall for the occasion.

She readies her horse, and rides faster.

The rush of wind in their hair and the speed of their horses breeds a peaceful atmosphere among them. Not even Barbary Ryswell feels the need to ruin the moment.

Brandon stares after the Lady group with a mix of awe and pride. He is proud of his sisters, proud of his blood, house and Northern heritage. He is in awe of the women who in that moment are more like goddesses to him. Benjen grins at seeing his sisters happy once more and giggles at how wild the ladies act. His child mind is amazed that even proper ladies can be as wild as his sister Lyanna.

From the advantage of the tower, Rickard Stark watches the racing ladies. His mind is drawn to his daughters. With no one near to witness, he smiles and chuckles lowly- despite the lone tear that falls, he is happy.

"You would be proud of them, my love." He whispers to the wind.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Lyanna,

Father has written to me- he told me of the upset between you and Anya. I know not why or how the situation had come to be. Only that you had grown upset and hurt deeply. I write to you because I hope you heed my words.

You are Lyanna Stark of Winterfell, a wild she-wolf who bows to no-one.

You are my sister, and no sister of mine accepts defeat readily.

You are a fighter- proclaimed and called as such by our very own mother.

No matter the situation, no matter the consequences that follow.

Know this Lyanna.

I will always love you for who you truly are.

You are young, but life is long and soon. Soon you will be much too grown to believe the words of you're older brother. I know the years apart between us has caused us to drift. I don't expect you to write as often as I know how little care you have for letter's.

But always remember this little sister.

'When the snows fall, and the white wind blows. The lone wolf dies but the pack survives.'

You are pack and you are never alone.

Your brother,

Ned.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Ned,

I love you, brother. Come home.

Lyanna.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Dearest Anya,

It will be a lie to say I am not upset.

When I had been told letters had come, I had expected it to be another from you. Instead, it was addressed from Father and Brandon. I did not worry till I found no letter had come from you. I had thought you knew to trust me and confide in me whenever you are overwhelmed. I was hurt to find I had assumed too much.

I've written to Lyanna, and despite not knowing the truth of what happened. I can only hope my words give her comfort. Father requested I write to you as well, but I am shaken in this moment. Words have escaped me and I know not what to write.

When writing this letter, I will be honest and tell that I had confided in Robert my struggles.

He had no true advice to offer- only a suggestion.

He suggested I simply tell you why you're letters are of such great importance and be honest.

And so I write to you with the intentions to do so.

I was much too young when you were born. Yet I remember the day so clearly. Outside, beyond the walls of the castle a sudden Winter storm raged. While our people cowered and prayed, House Stark did not. We were instead waiting anxiously for the surprising birth of another Stark child. You were not expected and Father had been worried sickly over you're arrival. Lyanna was a mere 11 moons and a terror already. Bran had spent his day attempting to convince me you were a wolf demon to be spawned.

I remember the sound of shouting from outside our Mother's rooms. She was louder than the raging storm- almost as if she'd been roaring back at the cold winds. When father arrived he'd been a harried mess from running the distance. Bran later told me he'd witnessed father push and shout several servants out of his way.

Then you cried your first breath and everything calmed.

The roaring of Mother, the raging winter storm.

Winterfell fell silent at your birth.

When Bran and I were finally allowed to see you, both of us expected a brother. We had Lya, and did not wish to be greedy for daughters are so rare. You were so small in father's arms. Tiny and fragile, much more than Lya had been. I remember thinking you to be similar to that of morning frost on leaves.

I had wanted to be the first sibling to hold you. Despite Brandon being the eldest, I did not wish him to be first. I tricked him into holding Lya instead. I swear Mother had known but I didn't care.

I was the second son, and you were the second daughter.

In my child mind- and even still- I justify that to be reason enough for me to be first to hold you.

Though the storm raged outside, all had been calm for our family in that moment.

I don't write this tale as means to reminisce, but out of hope you understand why I had been so upset.

My time spent here in the South weakens me like the Winter storm on the day of your birth. Each day I spend here separated and alone I grow ever more lost. However, much like the moment in which I first held you- the arrival of your letters anchored me. They calmed me and encouraged me to grow stronger so that upon my return home, you will be proud of me.

I grow stronger with each letter you send, in anticipation for the day where I can once more hug you and know you are real.

For you're nameday, I wrote you a letter- in which I said it is 'we' who need you.

I honestly tell you now that I had lied- for I do not know of the rest of our family.

But I do know my own truth to be this.

I need you Anya.

More so now than ever before.

I will always trust you little sister. You who knows me best. You who shares with me the position of second among our siblings. I do not know why you and Lyanna had fought. I do not need to know why.

I believe I know you enough to say with certainty that you've apologized already. Despite that, still you are plagued with the knowledge you had hurt Lyanna. So I tell you this little sister and pray you understand and believe my words.

'When the snows fall, and the white wind blows. The lone wolf dies but the pack survives.'

Survive for me sister as I will survive for you.

Wait for me to come home.

Love always your brother,

Ned.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Robert grunts as he lifts another barrel to carry. He sneaks a peek over to where his Northern friend works and frowns. Ned had been nothing but deadly silent since he'd sent off his last letter to his family. The Baratheon heir wants to broach the subject, but the last few weeks have taught him plenty about the pack his wolf friend belongs too. He's almost envious of the deep loyalty and passionate love among the Stark siblings. A feature, he knows is too late to attempt with his own brothers. Stannis is too stiff and unwilling to bend, Renly is only a babe.

Robert swallows the envious growl that wishes to be released.

As he continues his punishment- Lord Arryn had seen it fit to punish Robert and Ned for their honor less massacre of the other men- Robert fights with his curiosity. He's irritated with himself for floundering when Ned had turned to him for advice.

He had blurted the first thing that came to mind.

He wonders if Ned had followed his suggestion. If he did, Robert wants to know what the Quiet wolf had said. He wants to know if Ned has received a reply from his second sister. Robert had not been blind to the fact one letter was shorter than the other. He wonders which sister Ned needed advice for. Was it the wild she-wolf he constantly speaks of? Or was it the sister who had gotten sick and sent the Quiet Wolf on a hunting spree?

Robert grunts with annoyance as his curiosity is slowly driving him mad.

They are just finishing for the day when a rider gallops it's way into the courtyard. Robert peers and inwardly hopes they will be needed for something involving swords. He is itching to fight once again- sick of being used as a simple slave to hard labor.

"What brings you here, rider?" Jon Arryn demands

Robert looks closely at the crest the rider wears and grows wide eyed at realizing it is a Northerner. Ned is already walking closer, with obvious- almost manic really- worry on his face.

"Eddard." Jon warns but Ned does not step back.

Robert quickly rallies behind his foster brother- he is determined to present themselves as a united front. Even if he's not quite sure why he's going through all the hassle. The glare they receive from Jon Arryn, is telling enough and Robert knows they will be further punished.

"Take ease, My lord. I am simply a messenger hired to deliver a package of importance to the young Lords Stark and Baratheon." The rider respectfully addresses before dismounting.

"What?" Ned and Robert both blurt.

One a little more desperate while the other full of surprise.

"And from whom does this package come from?" Lord Arryn demands sternly.

The rider smirks with amusement, something Robert finds quite daring as his foster father is obviously not feeling particularly friendly.

"In general I would claim it to be from House Stark. Though specifically I will announce that it is Lady Anya Stark who has sent me here."

His words silent the entire yard, and Robert tries his best not to gape. Suddenly he feels a mix of nervous and excited as his name had been listed. He can't help but squirm eagerly to see what the mysterious little sister of his friend has sent him.

"You are not one I have any recollection of." Ned quietly speaks.

The rider grins and gives a slight bow of respect.

"No, my lord. I was hired only recently at the behests of the little lady Anya. She had seen something in me that none other seemed to and granted me the pleasure of being her personal messenger."

Ned smiles and it is a small thing.

"She must truly trust you." He says.

Robert shivers because though Ned is smiling, he knows there is a threatening snarl behind it.

"I owe her my life."

The rider's words seem to settle Ned enough that he stops bristling with threat.

"You say you are here to deliver a package?" Jon Arryn prompts.

The rider suddenly turns a dangerous smile towards the Lord of the Vale.

"I did and I am. However, my lady has instructed that it may only be passed to their intended and no other."

"And I am to trust you mean my wards no harm!?"

"By no means am I forcing your hand my lord. If you do not believe me it is your decision alone. However be sure you know this. Any insult to my lady is an insult to her House."

Robert can't help it, he opens his mouth and bellows out a laugh. How can he not when this Northerner is blatantly challenging his Foster Father with blatant dare. Even Ned can't hide the small smirk that grows on his lips. The utter shameless daring of the North has Robert more intrigued than ever.

"Enough of this fuss, hurry let us have it then. You wouldn't dare to deny Ned a package from his family would you?" Robert chuckles looking at the Vale lord.

Jon Arryn is so obviously not happy- most of all insulted. Yet he can do nothing but nod his head. The rider smirks and Robert thinks he just may like the man for his actions have given much to laugh about.

The rider takes from his saddle a wrapped package and Ned takes it with extra care. Then the rider turns to Robert, and the Baratheon doesn't bother to hide his eagerness. When the rider gives him a sealed letter, he does so with a narrowed glare.

"I feel as though I should warn you Lord Baratheon."

"Oh! And why's that?" Robert prompts curiously.

"Brandon Stark had not taken lightly to the fact his little sister has written you."

Robert grins as he knows more about Brandon Stark than he does the mysterious Anya. He is not afraid of the man- in fact, Robert is quite eager to meet with the wild wolf. Whether it be while clashing swords or pleasant introductions, he doesn't care.

"I look forward to meeting him then." Is all he says.

With that, the rider assures he will be staying at an inn and will wait for Ned's reply before he returns. Once he is gone, Jon Arryn watches them closely. As if he is waiting for either of them to open their packages and share it with him. However both boys are still only that, boys. They are petty and with great satisfaction, they both ask to be excused so they may privately open their packages.

Robert inwardly howls with laughter at the sour expression Jon Arryn wears.

What did the man expect when he's done nothing but stack punishments upon them for the past few weeks.

Robert doesn't go to his own bed chambers, instead he follows Ned.

When the door closes and they are alone, Robert eagerly rips into his letter. The first thing he is made aware of is the fluttering ribbon that falls from it. It's a simple blue and is long enough to be tied around his wrist. He thumbs at the material and marvels at the silky sensation. Next he smells the faint scent of floral flowers. It takes him a few seconds to realize it is the ribbon that is scented.

He suddenly feels wary of what he has been sent.

He sneaks a peek to where Ned is seated, only to relax as the quiet wolf is absorbed in his own letter.

Finally he reads the letter addressed to him.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

To Robert Baratheon, heir to House Baratheon.

Though we have had no formal correspondence, I write to you with thanks. My brother has spoken plenty of the joys and fun you have brought him throughout his fostering. For that I am most grateful to you. However, I write to you also with a request.

My brother is far from home and is out of reach of his pack.

I know that in all sense we are strangers, but of this I am sure.

You care deeply for him and there is a bond between you that I as a sister can never truly grasp.

Ned has described you to be a man, hungry for battle. So I implore to you to fight one such battle for me. I wish to see my brother come home to me whole in all ways. He fights a mighty battle each day he is far from us and I worry.

I know you are no knight, but still I am hopeful.

With this letter I have attached a token of favor. Should you choose to agree to my request, keep it close and guard my brother until he has no need of you. If not simply return it to my rider and he will bring it back to me. I will not hold any ill will towards you if you decline.

Once again Lord Baratheon, I thank you.

Your advice to my brother helped immensely for the both of us.

Sincerely with Gratitude.

Lady Anya Stark

Second born Daughter to Rickard Stark of House Stark.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Robert finds himself unsure of what to do.

He re-reads the letter twice and still has no thoughts.

He finds his answer however when Ned finally puts down his letter and opens the wrapped package. From within it's confines is a cloak. It is a dulled shade of grey and a thick pelt of brown fur lining the neck. Even from where he sits, Robert can tell the material is thick and made for warmth. He watches Ned closely and with the words from his letter ringing in his head, he sees the battle Anya Stark wished him to fight.

Ned had always shown a quiet yearning to return home. It had never been a secret.

Robert just hadn't known how miserable and torn the Quiet Wolf had truly been.

He stares at his foster brother and privately ponders.

How far does the man intend to embody his title as the Quiet Wolf?

Will he even shout and alert any one had he been stabbed in battle?

Robert considers himself a simple man.

He loves the thrill of battle, fucking and the taste of wine.

He is no knight and he has no honor.

But he does like Ned, the man is fun and brings with him the most exciting things. Ned is nothing like the boring stuffiness he suffers usually in the South. It takes only these short thoughts for him to conclude and accept Anya Stark's request. Carefully, Robert hides the blue ribbon in the folds of his shirt. He pens a simple note to Ned's mysterious sister that simply says 'I agree', and intends to pass it discretely to the rider when Ned sends him off.

Years in the future, Robert will think back on this day with a different set of thoughts.

But that is for future Robert Baratheon to ponder.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

To my dearest brother Ned,

I am sorry.

You are right to be upset with me. I had selfishly thought myself to be doing you a favor in not writing about Lyanna and I's fight. I had thought that writing to you my frustrations with our sister would only burden you. I know now that I was wrong and ask your forgiveness.

You are right.

You know me best and well.

The tale you wrote brought tears to my eyes and Father had comforted me. He confirmed for me all you spoke and I can not begin to tell you how I miss you more now than ever. Though I know my words will bring you strength they are not enough to assure my worries. My rider undoubtedly presented you with a package.

I know you yearn to return to our pack.

I know you hurt each day you spend alone in the south.

So I hope my gift is enough to remind you that we are waiting. I hope my gift says all that my letter's can not express. I made guess at your size and used Bran as a model, but I hope it fits you well.

You are my brother.

The second born son, and I the second born daughter.

We who have patience and weathered the wildness of our elder siblings.

You will survive and come home soon.

When you do I vow to be there waiting by the gates.

As you were the first to hold me, I will be the first to hold you and welcome you home.

Winter is coming and I await your arrival patiently as you have taught me.

I love you Ned.

I believe in you.

Always your sister,

Anya.

~*~*~Winter Storm Queen~*~*~

Ned simply praises the cloak in silence. He knows instantly that it was made by Anya herself. He inspects every inch of it and in doing so, finds small embroideries that tell a story. In the neck, hidden beneath the furs, he finds five direwolves of differing pelt colors. He knows each one represents his siblings. At the tail end of the bottom, he finds a winter blue rose encased in a white square, and knows it stands for his mother and father.

The cloak tells the story of his pack.

It tells the story of his home.

He gently wraps the cloak around his frame and shudders at the warmth it gives. He closes his eyes and finds himself imagining his return. The heavy weight of the cloak and the warmth it gives strengthens his need to go home.

But it also seeps into him the confidence he'd not known he'd lost.

Ned focuses on Anya's vow to be the first to greet him when he returns.

He lets that be his anchor.

He is a Stark- a lone wolf here in the South and soon.

Soon he will be going home.