Sorry it's been so long. I really struggled with this chapter and it literally took several re-writes to figure out the direction I wanted to take.

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed, you're literally the motivation I need to get my chapters up :D

We're done with the kiddie chapters for the Starks, and can now move on (so yay!).

Enjoy.

#WARNING: THIS FIC MAY CONTAIN THEMES/CONTENT THAT MAY UPSET READERS! READ AT OWN RISK.

REMINDER OF AGES:

Lyanna: 9 (soon) 10 years.

Anya: 9 years

Benjen: 5 (soon) 6 years.

Dorrick: 14 years.


Chapter 16: A day as a lad.

Now that the Stark sisters were no longer blatantly at odds, and with Lord Brandon Stark gone to continue his fostering, Winterfell began to fall back into its usual dynamic. Anya Stark woke before the rising sun each early morn with her list of duties and chores. The little lord Benjen continued his lordly lessons, only now he woke to visits from Anya every day. The great Lord Stark isolated himself in his solar to tend to the multiple political documents that demanded his attention. The cooks cooked, the servants served and the guards continued to guard; but there was a minor difference.

Or perhaps this difference was major?

The wild she-wolf of Winterfell had changed with her habits.

Lyanna Stark could no longer be found trailing after guards and stable boys, pestering them for lessons. Instead, all would find her sitting demurely through her lady lessons, practicing grace and needle work with a focused eye. She no longer slept deeply pass the rising sun till it was time for the family to break their fast. Instead, Lyanna woke just as early as her younger sister and aided in overseeing the castle keeping.

It was wrongly strange but oddly right, and soon enough whispers of the tamed she-wolf began to spread.

"Anya, is it okay that the grains are listed to be sent to the storage so soon? We've only 52 sacks and-"

"We have enough time to stock up on grains for winter, Lyanna. Although, Benjen's name day is soon to follow after yours and we need to account for the feast that will be held."

"Anya! The Septa claims the silk material recently bought were of poor quality! She insists we place a request for more and demand-"

"The Septa and the seller hold personal grievances towards each other. She always claims they have sold us low quality goods. Simply order one of the guards to ride in to Wintertown with the material then return and claim the material is from a different seller. The septa will see no difference."

"Anya! The butcher and the cook are in disagreement with-"

"Anya the stable boys have-"

"Anya! The Maester says-"

"Anya! The seamstress wants-

"Anya! I need to speak with you about-"

"Anya! I don't know what-"

"Anya! How do I-"

"Anya! I need-"

"Anya!"

"Anya!"

"Anya!"

Anya hissed as she'd mistakenly stabbed her finger with her needle rather than the cloak in her hand. She wiped at the blood drops, careful not to stain the cloak in her lap. The sting of her finger was easier to ignore in comparison to the pulsing ache of her head. The throbbing pain at her temple only eased when she pressed at it with her fingers. Anya felt stressed, unusually irate and restless. Brandon had only been gone for two days, yet already she missed him fiercely. She'd finally managed to hide away in her chambers, sick of the sound of her name.

"You're being unfair again, Anya" she muttered to her reflection.

But it was the truth.

Anya was slowly coming to hate the cry of her name from her sister's lips. At least, when Brandon had still been home, there was another who could help or entertain Lyanna and her pestering questions. It at least would have given Anya a few spare moments of quiet and rest. The bleeding of her finger had finally slowed and she wrapped it with mindful care as guilt began to fester due to her thoughts.

The youngest Stark daughter truly was proud of her sister. She was happy to see Lyanna determinedly pull her weight in duties and embrace her lady responsibilities. The Stark sisters were now sharing the Lady duties between each other which enabled Anya plenty of free time to do as she pleased.

But.

There was something about the new arrangement that bothered Anya.

A nagging pull that constantly distracted the young girl.

The sisters were better, their fight slowly healing and becoming something of a bad dream.

However…..

Anya could not forget what Lyanna had done.

She fingered the thread attached to her needle and lost herself in contemplative thought.

Lyanna was trying, doing exactly as Anya had hoped. She was stepping up and being the lady Anya had always known she could be, just as she had taught her.

But….

Anya could not name the odd stirring in her belly that ached or the heavy sinking sensation in her chest. It bothered her that the strange unnamed sensation only ever stirred whenever she faced Lyanna or heard the cry of her name.

The rapt series of knocking on her chamber doors caused her to jump to her feet and scramble to hide. Anya abandoned the half done cloak on her stool and crawled under her feather bed. A few seconds later saw to her door bursting open and she watched Lyanna's boots as they ran about her room.

"Anya? Oh! Gods where is she?" Lyanna muttered before she raced back out.

Anya waited a few seconds more before she deemed it safe to crawl out from her hiding place.

Yes.

There was something about Lyanna that still upset Anya, and she was determined to fix it.

Anya studied the process she'd made with her cloak for Ned. It was near complete, only needing a few more stitches and a bit more embroidery before she could send it. She smiled with yearning for her quiet wolf brother before she decided to take a break and go for a stroll about Winterfell.

Due to the even division of duties between the sisters, Anya found herself uncomfortable with her free time. She had no idea what to do with the extra hours in her day; too used to the many years she dedicated to the castles keep. It was only when she realized she had been keeping a careful ear out for the cries of her name that she realized she was hiding from her sister.

Again, she felt frustrated and confused, irritated that she could not make sense of her actions. When she next looked to see where her feet had brought her, she found herself by the stables. The place was uncomfortably quiet, lacking the boisterous demands of Lyanna's voice to be taught the ways of the sword or some other.

"Well, well, well. Do my eyes deceive me or has the little wolf wondered into my keep?"

Anya did not jump at the sudden address, but she did consider the speaker with an unimpressed stare.

"It's not every day I see the little lady in the stables and not the she-beast sister," Dorrick snickers with a bit of slur in his words.

Anya glares at him but his smile only stretches wider and she can suddenly smell the hint of ale on his breath.

"Your father may have been familiar with my mother, but you have no right to call my sister such things," she warned with threat while inwardly maintaining a wary guard.

Dorrick laughed, but there was a dark gleam in his eyes that caused Anya to hesitate. They were not friends, her mother held trust in his father and they were close acquaintances. Anya only ignored Dorrick's teasing games and nicknames because of their familiarity. Yet, there was something in the way Dorrick stared at her. Something in the way his eyes seemed to gleam that unsettled her usual ease of dismissal.

"You can place a beast in a dress and call her a lady, but anyone with eyes will still see a beast," he laughed with a mocking smirk.

Anya feels herself bristle at his words, suddenly overwhelmed with anger without truly knowing why. She pins him in place with an ice piercing glare and tightly threatens him with a cold tone.

"Lyanna is a lady regardless if she is in dresses or mud stained tunics," she sneers.

Dorrick stills then and he stares at her with a look she can't properly name. He looks at her as if he is amused and for a brief second the gleam in his eyes soften. He stares at her as if she has said something amusing yet sad, and she inwardly squirms with unease. When he speaks it is almost as if he is impressed by her, as if he is praising her.

"So cold and yet you're heart still remains so childishly sweet," he mutters.

Before she can question him on his strange words, the dark gleam in his eyes return with a fiercer shine. He curls his lips into a mocking sneer while circling her, prowling like a snow leopard and hissing like a cunning snake.

"Why would the little Lady Anya of Winterfell be dawdling in the stables? I bet you grew tired, sick of hearing the pestering cry of your name from the she-beast's mouth. I bet the she-beast is trying but still clings to the little lady's dress for assistance. I bet the little lady is still mad at the she-beast for her silly little prank!"

Anya uneasily takes a step back. She knows the look of a drunken man, seen enough boisterous ale and wine drunk Lords at feasts. She isn't afraid of Dorrick, only wary; because despite the ale smell of his breath and slur of his words… his eyes are clearly sober. Anya suddenly is able to name the expression Dorrick wears, his actions and behaviour suddenly making sense in her quick working mind.

Dorrick is angry with hatred towards her sister.

She studies him intently, no longer feeling uneasy but instead calculative and investigative. Her mind races to connect the clues in his behaviour and figure out the reason for his anger. She determinedly puzzles out what she can and eventually thinks she has solved the strange change in his behaviour. She is certain she has figured why Dorrick has shifted from irate natured jesting towards Lyanna to blatant hatred.

The Master of Stables.

Anya remembers that Lyanna's prank led to the unemployment of the Master of Stables. She then recalls the odd intensity he'd spoken to her with on the last day of the Gathering. The way he had insisted he had something to tell her only to then change his mind.

"Who was he to you?" Anya whispers with a frown.

Dorrick blinks, and again a look of appraisal flashes briefly across his features before it shifts in to a bitter sneer. Dorrick tightens his fists and glares at the ground as he scoffs.

"Does it matter? He meant nothing to your brother or sister."

Dorrick walks away before she could think to call him back. Anya stays standing in the stables with a frown on her lips and her brows furrowed in hard thought. Once again, the sensation of something heavy in her chest and uncomfortably churning overwhelms her. She clenches her fists with frustration and stomps her way back to her chambers, lost to her obstructive thoughts in which she couldn't solve or name.

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

Despite her irritating distraction and puzzling torment of emotions, Anya manages to complete her obligations. She finishes her studies and chores, works on Ned's cloak, spends time with Benjen and caters to Lyanna's pestering questions.

And yet….. Dorrick and his words still haunt her mind.

It is….. Annoying to the young girl.

"What troubles you daughter?" Rickard prompts without lifting his gaze from the parchment in his hand.

Anya frowns as she settles the platter of fruit on his study. For whatever reason, Lyanna never dared to venture into their Father's solar. Anya never understood why Lyanna found the room so uncomfortable. It's not as if Rickard had banned his children from disturbing him in his solar. Only that he expected them to be mindful and courteous to the fact he is dealing with important matters and will need to focus. Anya had come to develop a habit of bringing her Father snacks before she retired to her rooms each day, well aware of how late her father's lord duties kept him from resting.

"Did…. Did Brandon explain what happened to the previous Master of Stables? Where he is now?" Anya cautiously asked.

Rickard looked up from his work and peered at her intently.

Anya did not want to remind him of Lyanna's prank and risk seeing her father's temperament. Instead, she alluded to the event, unable to forget the dark look in Dorrick's eye and the certainty in his words.

"The employment of any dismissed staff no longer becomes our concern or interest once their service to us has been dismissed." Rickard mused as he studied her with hidden interest behind his mask.

"Of course, but what of the help unfairly released?" she absently mused.

"Unfairly released?"

Anya's eyes widened at her mistake. She should not have worded her thoughts as such, it could be perceived as doubt towards Brandon's decisions. She scrambled to think of a way to assure her trust in her brother's decisions but spotted the minuscule lift of her Father's lips and blushed with embarrassment.

"I apologize, I did not mean to imply such doubts."

Rickard gifts her with a smile for her honesty.

"It is okay to doubt decisions, Anya. In fact, I encourage you to always question and ponder the choices of those around you. To question means to learn and seek for answers. There is no such rule that every decision made is the right decision, just as not every mistake is always to be considered wrong."

Anya nodded and Rickard could tell by the shine in her eyes that she truly took his words to heart. In this moment, she reminded him of Ned. It amused him to see a part of himself shared in his quieter children.

"Although, I suppose your earlier question stems from whatever it is that weighs heavily on your mind."

Anya nodded again and tried to gather her words to properly explain.

"The Masters of the Stables was…...an important figure to the stable boys. I've been…. Alerted to the fact some have taken his dismissal… um…..badly."

Rickard knew instantly of who she alluded to, but showed no outward reaction. He listened to her confession of her confusing emotions as well as frustrated thoughts. As she talked, the smile on his lips grew wider bit by bit at seeing how passionately and childish her speech shifted.

"It's utterly annoying that I can't seem to name the sensation! I'm no longer mad at Lya, but it never ceases to form in my belly and chest. Then, I see Dorrick by the stables and he says things that cause the same sensation and I-I, I simply don't understand!" she finished with a huff, that could only be described as a pout.

"You say that Dorrick spoke rudely of Lyanna?" he starts and Anya is quick to defend the stable boy.

"As I said, he was upset! He most likely did not mean to say such things so crudely!"

Rickard nodded, pretending to believe her defense of the boy. Dorrick was another child born to one of Lyarra's loyal spies and servers. Rickard had kept the boy as a favor to his father's sacrifice in the line of duty for one of Lyarra's missions. Clatton Slynt had volunteered to be the boy's guardian in the place of his father. Rickard pondered on the coincidental alignment between Anya and the children of her mother's specially employed servants.

Rickard redirected his focus, and pondered the best way to help his daughter.

He watched Anya, as she paced and fiddled, patiently waiting for him to comment. He found his heart warming at how greatly she seemed to understand his ways. However….. Rickard was an opportunist at his core, he had to be due to his position as Lord Stark. Quickly, his mind easily formulated a scheme, one he saw beneficial not only for his daughters' relationship…. But also for the North and their future.

With his mind made, Rickard spoke, deliberately phrasing his words and leading his daughter to his preferred conclusion. It was manipulative, and a small part of him felt guilt for the guise, but it was for the good of her future.

A lesson.

A test.

She looks at him, so earnest and trusting…. So young.

Rickard grows quiet to allow time for his seed to sink into her mind. Then carefully, he caresses her cheek and offers her affection through his eyes.

"You and your sister are growing so quickly, it's as if I blink and years have passed me by."

His words cause her to lightly giggle, and she beams up at him in a way he'd almost forgotten. She has his eyes, grey like marble stone, but the sparkle in them is all Lyarra's. He knows one day she'll become a northern beauty, enough to rival a goddess. One day she will marry and become a mother. One day she will be too far out of his reach, and he will need to trust another to protect her.

But that day has yet to come, and he will make the most of the time he has with her.

"I will never grow old enough to not need you, Papa. None of us will."

He kisses her brow, amused at the sincerity and honest belief her tone holds. He lets himself pretend in the moment, allows his heart and mind to believe her.

Because he knows her to be wrong.

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

Anya had not slept well, her mind was too full of her father's advice. It weighed too heavily on her mind. There was a purpose behind his words, she had heard it with ease. Which is why she fretted over his advice, stripping and analyzing it word for word. It's just as her eyes are about to fall victim to sleeps spell that the idea comes to her.

Anya bolts up from her feather bed with wide eyes.

"Ladies and Lads!" she breathes with dawning excitement.

"Ladies are owed respect, but Dorrick is a lad of common origins Anya. He owes Lyanna his respect, but whether he will give it or not, is his right."

Her mind follows her memory of her father's words with snippets from her encounter with Dorrick.

"Does it matter? He meant nothing to your brother and sister."

Respect.

The answer to her problem is respect.

Dorrick, the help and the common folk, none of them respect her sister.

"Respect is earned and rarely freely gifted," she quoted in a mumble as her mind raced.

Still, something didn't make sense about her father's pointed wording. Dorrick owes Lyanna his respect as is her right as a Lady, but Dorrick was a lad of common origins and had his own rights.

How is she to fix the issue between them, without dismissing their rights?

Anya groaned and flopped back onto her bed, hard at thought once more. Perhaps…. Perhaps she should break the problem down from the starting point. As she mumbled and reflected over the situation, Anya was starting to notice a pattern. It was a pattern that made her extremely uncomfortable. No matter how she tried to think about the problem, her thoughts repeatedly led her to the same conclusion.

"Could the problem be…..me?" she whispered with a glance to her looking glass.

Dorrick called Lyanna a beast, and yet he never failed to acknowledge Anya as a lady. In fact, all of the staff tended to herald her with her title unlike Lyanna. She frowned as her head began to throb with ache again.

Anya had always been aware of the comparisons made between herself and Lyanna. She'd never gave much attention to such whispers as it was logical for people to do such a thing. Especially as Anya had been doing Lyanna's chores along with her own. She was well aware of their differences, but she'd never thought it to be a bad thing. Always thought it was what made them special and what made them their own persons.

Had she unintentionally stolen from Lyanna the respect she was owed as a lady, by taking on her sisters chores?

An unpleasant feeling formed in her stomach and she pushed herself out of bed to stare at her reflection closer. The girl who looked back had a frown on her lips, with her hair braided in a sleep braid. The night dress she wore looked soft and innocent, free of any dirt or rips. She had a good posture and looked delicate.

She looked like a lady.

"You can place a beast in a dress and call her a lady, but anyone with eyes will still see a beast,"

Anya furrowed her brow and hurried to her clothes chest, she dug to the bottom and pulled out Ned's old tunic and breeches. She hurried back before the looking glass and held the tunic against her body, eyeing her reflection intently.

"Could a lady be a beast if she were to be out of a dress?" she questioned.

Could she…..

Could she give back to Lyanna the respect she'd unintentionally stolen by doing her chores?

Maybe if she was less of a Lady, Dorrick and the commoner's would see Lyanna less as a beast.

Anya tightened her hold on the tunic in her hand and determinedly made up her mind. She knew exactly what she could do and how to do it.

She would fix this.

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

Dorrick snored loudly as he snuggled deeper into the hay. Once again, his night ended with him deep in the barrels of ale within one of the empty horse stables. He had little care for the wake up call he'd receive, expecting it to be Walder or some other stable boy; waking him with a cuss filled beating. He'd yet to do any of his duties since Clatton had been dismissed.

On this morning, however, Dorrick would be proven wrong with his expectations.

"Oi!" someone called as they kicked at his boot.

Dorrick scoffed and turned over to continue sleeping.

"Oi!" they called again, with a harder kick.

He groaned and kicked out with his leg to get them to leave him alone.

"OII!" They snapped with a stomp on his leg.

"AH! FUCK! Walder you piece of shit I'll-"

Dorrick squinted as he could not name the scrawny boy annoying him. He might not be in the good books with his fellow stable boys, but he prided himself in knowing their faces. Yet, no matter how hard he strained to think, he couldn't name the boy before him.

"Who the fuck are you?" he irately sneered as he sat up with a groan.

The boy was filthy, with soot staining his face, it made it hard to discern his features. The tunic he wore was loose, obviously fitted for someone of a bigger build. It served in making him look many times skinnier than he actually was. He also had a woolen cap, usually worn by younger babes to stave off the cold. The boy stood awkwardly, in a way that bothered Dorrick for some reason he couldn't name.

"Come to bitch at me on behalf of the rest of those cunts?" he scoffed.

The boy seemed lost for words and bewildered, which amused Dorrick.

"You got a tongue, boy?"

"Have you always had such a crass way of speech?" the boy commented with a bewildered stare.

Again, Dorrick found his head throbbing as the boy's voice seemed familiar to his ears. He squinted and roughly grabbed the boy's wrist and roughly tugged him closer. The boy's eyes widened for the briefest of seconds, and Dorrick choked on his tongue with mortified shock.

"Lad-"

"SHH!"

Anya surged forward and covered Dorrick's mouth with her dirt stained hands. The position they were in was highly inappropriate, and Dorrick's mind was filled with the many ways he'd be killed if they were discovered. Anya glared at him fiercely until she was assured he would stay silent as she speaks.

"Should anyone discover it's me, I promise you, I'll feed you to the pigs!" she hissed.

Dorrick found the courage to shove her hand from his mouth and hiss at her, due to his panic.

"What in the gods are you doing!? Why do you look like such a filthy-"

"A filthy beast?" Anya finished sounding both smug and mocking.

Dorrick might not be the smartest lad of the crop, but it didn't take him long to puzzle out how this situation had come about. He felt his heart drop to his stomach with dread, and carefully pulled away from Anya's hold. He hung his head and gripped at his hair with pure fear.

"Lord Stark will have my head!" he despaired.

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

Anya had a plan, she was certain it would work. She woke early and quickly alerted her father of her need to be excused from her chores. He'd only spared a heavy glance of intent study before consenting, and giving her permission. He did not ask what she planned to do, but she knew it was only because he would have her watched. She left Lyanna a parchment full of answers to any possible questions she might have, and visited Benjen for a quick moment before getting dressed.

There was no mistaking the fluttering in her belly and swooping pounding of her heart. Anya could barely hide both her nerves and excitement. She started with her hair, styling it in a way that let it be tucked under the child cap she'd borrowed from the butcher's daughter. Then she dressed in Ned's old tunic and breeches, both were much too loose on her frame, but she thought it aided her disguise. Finally, she marched herself to her fireplace and smothered her face with soot. She took a moment to glance at her reflection, and could only marvel at how dirty she appeared.

Anya had never been this unclean and unrefined in all her life.

In fact, she'd never seen Lyanna this covered in dirt either.

She giggled, laughing at her appearance and also due to her excitement.

A thought came to her, and she sniffed her arms quickly. The floral scent made her frown, before the idea came to her. She looked like a filthy boy, but now she needed to smell like one. Anya raced from her rooms to the pig pens. The mud stuck to her boots and dirtied her breeches further, but it only made her giggle.

She removed the lid from the barrel full of rotten food, and reached for a few scraps. The horrid stench made her crinkle her nose in disgust, and she hesitated.

"Beasts don't care to smell pretty, Anya. Come on, you can do this." She mumbled.

She clenched her eyes and rubbed the rotten scraps under her pits and all about her clothes.

When satisfied, she gave a mighty jump in the deepest section of the mud, and yelped as it splattered on everything, including her clothes.

"Oi! You boy! What do you think you're doing by the pigs!?" the castle farmer yelled.

Anya startled and quickly raced to the stables to hide.

Its luck that allowed her to find Dorrick, and from the expression he wore and how he hung his head, Anya was certain she'd done well with her disguise.

"What have I done!?" Dorrick whimpered into his hands.

Anya couldn't help but frown at him.

"Well-"

Dorrick cut her off with a glare and quick slap of his hand over her mouth. She crinkled her nose at the sweaty smell, and firmly kept her lips folded in so she didn't mistakenly taste anything. She suddenly realized just how greatly she'd underestimated the dirtiness being a boy entitled.

"Don't you dare, say nothing! I may know you're a lady, but so long as you're dressed like that, I can plea ignorance."

Anya quickly shoved his hand away and wiped at her face after hacking out a spit. The gross astonishment on Dorrick's face made her grin. She'd been practicing that particular skill since Lyanna had told her and insisted they practice doing it. Anya was quite proud of the size she could create.

"You said everyone can tell a beast from a lady with ease. Well, I'm going to prove you wrong!"

"What?" Dorrick blurted looking dumbstruck.

Anya continued to speak on, feeling passionate due to her excitement and late night solution.

"If you're right, than everyone should be able to tell the truth about me from the first glance. However, if they can't, that just proves I was right and Lyanna is in all ways a proper lady. So today, you and I are going to spend the whole day about Winterfell and Wintertown. By the end of the day, we'll see just who was right, and you have to swear to the gods you'll respect Lyanna just as much as you respect me."

Dorrick was now silently gaping at Anya in frozen disbelief, while she smugly waited for him to snap out of it. It took a couple more seconds for Dorrick to finally move. Yet, when he did, he was by no means quiet or considerate about it.

"ARE YOU FUC- HOW IN THE GODS DOES ANY OF THAT MAKE SENSE TO YOU!?" He shouted.

Anya glared, but before the two could continue their arguing discussion, one of the other stable boys appeared.

"Oi, Dorrick if you-"

All three froze in place. The stable boy darted his gaze between Anya and Dorrick with hard thinking eyes. Dorrick and Anya were frozen in place for entirely different reasons, anxious to see if he would recognize Anya despite her dress state. The stable boy's face then shifted into one of disgust, hatred and anger.

He aimed his spit at Dorrick's face, and launched an empty bucket filled with brushes and rags. Anya stumbled backwards to avoid the thrown objects.

"You disgusting piece of shit. I don't know why Lord Stark won't let us kick your worthless ass onto the streets. Slynt's fucking gone but that's no excuse for a cunt like you to fuck around with little bitch boys in the hay."

Anya struggled to understand what exactly the stable boy was saying, but by the way Dorrick's face twisted, she understood it was something cruel. She pushed back the initial surge of victory she felt for fooling another into believing she was a common boy. Before Dorrick could hold in her place, she rose to her feet and glared as coldly and defiantly as she could.

The stable boy regarded her with the same amount of disgust, and mockingly pressed closely to her face with a sneer.

"You got something to say, you cock loving-"

The stable boy didn't get to finish as Anya had hacked another great spit and aimed it right between his eyes.

"Uggh! You fuc-"

She pushed the taller boy with as much force as she could manage, and stood over him with a cold glare. Dorrick scrambled to his feet, eyes wide and body tense in case things escalated into a full blown fist fight. Anya didn't notice, too busy trying to channel her memories of Brandon when he had been younger. Unaware of just how scary the black soot on her face caused her expression to appear.

"The only cunt I see here is you" she sneered while deepening her voice just a little.

"I'm gonna-"

Anya stepped forward, raising her clenched fist and curling her lips just as she'd once seen Brandon do.

"You're gonna what? Try it. I dare you. DO it, and I'll give yah a reason to believe why no bitch boy or whore cunt would let your tiny cock anywhere close enough to fuck."

The stable boy looked as if he were going to attack, and Anya tensed. She tried to ignore the building panic she felt, knowing fully well if this turned into a fight she'd lose. Unknown to her, Dorrick had reached into his pockets and flashed the sharp dagger he'd always kept on close hand. The stable boy glanced at Dorrick's hand, gritted his teeth and took his leave. Sparing both Dorrick and Anya one last glare of disgust and hatred before stomping off.

When he'd fully disappeared, Anya collapsed out of shock and pure exhilaration. She couldn't believe that had actually worked. Brandon had always bragged about the thrill and danger of a fight. He often re-enacted his tavern brawls with what she always thought to be exaggerations for a more exciting tale. Now she knew what her wild wolf brother meant by 'the thrill of the fight'.

She turned to look at Dorrick, smugly smirking at his quiet and considering gaze.

"That's one person who has proven me right and you wrong," she gloated.

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

This was by far, not at all what he expected to happen after his drunken night. Dorrick stared at Anya and struggled to make sense of the fact she was house Stark's precious 'Little Lady'. How in the gods name did she learn how to speak such filth? Did she even have a clue as to what she'd just implied and said? When did she become so aggressive? What would she have done if he'd not had his blade on hand?

Dorrick could look out for himself, he could take a beating and could defend his own life.

He extremely doubted the little lady would know what to do in a physical fight.

Ladies may know how to battle with words, but they knew nothing of aggression regarding physical confrontation.

He stared at the girl before him, who looked so smug and satisfied.

Fuck.

The Starks were going to skin him alive and feed him to the rats.

There was only one solution for this…..

"Get up, let's go," he prompted with resignation.

Anya furrowed her brow but rose to stand, however, she did not follow his lead.

"Where are we going?"

Dorrick blandly shrugged, completely resigned to his impending death. It's a shame, he truly had dreamed of becoming a knight or something great. As for his final wishes before his death, he could only hope its Lord Brandon who delivers the final blow. He would prefer it to be Lord Ned, but that's too greedy of a wish, so he can only settle for Lord Brandon. The south truly was too far.

"I'd rather save Lord Rickard the time it'll take to hunt me down. Perhaps, if I show myself he'll consider my request to be killed by Lord Brandon's sword, seeing as Lord Ned is too far south."

Anya sighed, as if he'd done something ridiculous.

"You are wasting time. If we don't make it to Wintertown now, we'll miss the morning rush among the market."

Dorrick let out a mad laugh and looked to her with wild eyes.

"Do you have any idea what will happen to you should this nonsense be discovered? At the least, my life will be forfeited, but your reputation would be stained! The prospects of your marriage, the respectability of your name, your influence will suffer!"

Anya lifted her chin and Dorrick is suddenly aware of just how similarly she and her sister resemble each other.

"Then let my respectability suffer, and see to it my reputation is tarnished. It will be of no great loss to me."

Dorrick isn't sure if it was because she'd looked like a dirty common boy, or if it was his temper. He couldn't be sure of what was to blame, but he grabbed Anya by her shoulders and shook her harshly.

"You are our Lady! THE Lady of House Stark and Winterfell! You-"

Finally, Dorrick suddenly became aware of the truth of Anya's intentions.

He let go of her immediately and simply stared at her with pure shock. Anya kept her head high, her stance stubbornly in place- a mirror copy of Lyanna's defiance in the face of her Septa's scolding. Dorrick suddenly remembered the vague phrase he'd overheard during his younger years; something Lord Ned had said in answer of a guard's question.

"Why do you keep such close watch over the little lady Anya? Do you lack trust in our guard, little lord?" the guard had asked. Lord Ned had remained quiet for a long while to the point no one expected him to answer.

"Anya is the second daughter, just as I am the second son. One day, she too will do what I must for Lyanna as I do for Brandon. They will be Ladies and we will be Lords, but only one can truly wear the title for our House. We are second, and our lives will forever be shared and dedicated to ensuring they will have pillars to fall back onto should they ever falter."

Little Dorrick had marvelled at the wise words from the young Lord. He'd never heard Ned Stark speak so greatly before, and understood now why the boy was labelled the Quiet Wolf. The Guard had been quiet, but Dorrick could tell he too was awed by Lord Ned.

"You are quiet but wise. I am eager to see how greatly House Stark will grow under the influence of you and you're siblings."

Ned had smiled, and Dorrick felt strange, out of breath and bashful for no reason.

"They are not my words, but Mother's. Mother knows and says lots of things that are wise."

The guard laughs loudly and says "Quiet, Wise but also Humble, what a wolf you will become little lord."

Years later, and only now Dorrick finds himself understanding those words from so long ago.

"You- You…. Will not change your mind" He says softly.

'Because you do not care. For you are the second daughter and Lyanna is the first'.

Anya does not know what Dorrick is thinking, but she is aware that something has changed. She quickly clings to this chance and pushes for him to agree. As she attempts to persuade him, Dorrick is suddenly aware of how….. Naïve and truly childlike the little Lady is.

He had seen her about the castle, and how she took charge. She had always appeared so mature and knowledgeable, so capable of responsibility. He had thought she'd grown beyond the young shy girl he remembered teasing before getting chased by her angry siblings. He had thought that shy, innocent girl to be gone and replaced with this hardened mature Lady with her mask of winter.

Now, he knows the truth.

Anya Stark is still the same girl.

The second daughter to Lord Rickard Stark.

"Okay…." He softly says.

"What?" Anya blurts with surprise and suspicion.

Dorrick grins with amusement, and smirks at her boyishly.

"I'll accept this little bet of yours. We will see who is proven right by the end of the day, little sprout."

Anya, rightfully becomes wary of the sudden agreement. They are not friends, but she is familiar enough with Dorrick's mannerisms to know he is up to something. She studies him closely, but his infuriating boyish grin only widens.

"Fine, then let us be on our way. You will see soon enough that I'm right!" she mutters before stomping to find her horse.

Dorrick stops her.

"Ah no. Where do you think you're going?"

"To ready my horse of course?" she questions with a furrowed brow.

Dorrick stares at her, and Anya feels frustrated once more at her inability to name the look.

"That is Lady Anya's horse, as if a common boy like you would be allowed anywhere near it. Come on, if you wish to make it to the market during morning rush, we'd best start walking now."

"Oh, right…." Anya mumbles with thought before following after him.

They'd made it pass the gates with ease, not one person spared them a second look. Anya couldn't help but feel a little gleeful at the lack of stares and acknowledgement. She suddenly felt invisible and ignored, feeling a deep love towards the freedom it granted her.

'If this is what Lyanna constantly feels when she dresses like a boy, I can understand the addiction' she couldn't help but think.

Dorrick however, was incredibly tense, his eyes darted everywhere on high alert. It was because of this he noticed the strange rotation of the guards by the gate. They were not the usual guards, in fact he was certain those on duty consisted solely of the fresh recruits. Next, he noticed the flow of merchants and farmers being more than usual in the morning. He was not familiar with some of them, and as they passed, he swore their eyes spared quick glances in their direction.

He could feel it in his gut that something strange was occurring.

But instead of ending their journey to Wintertown, Dorrick felt the need to continue.

For whatever reason, it felt as if today would be incredibly important.

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

They reach Wintertown in due time, however the journey was not as quiet as Dorrick had thought it would be. Anya had never walked to Wintertown and had immediately felt the aches of her feet. Despite such aches she gleefully ran, skipped and jumped along the road. Eventually the duo fell into a game of chase, one that nostalgically reminded them both of their younger years. They talked about their younger years, the memories they shared, the japes and the games they'd played.

"Do you remember the time you put a beetle in my boot?" Anya had giggled.

"Remember? How could I forget? Brandon beat me with his wooden sword so hard he managed to slice my skin. Lyanna doused me with dirty water whenever she could and stuffed my clothes with whatever insects she could trap," Dorrick recalled with a shiver and grumble.

Anya frowned in response looking puzzled.

"I don't remember that. When did that happen?"

Dorrick only sighed after sparing Anya a look she couldn't name.

"Don't worry about it. It's just a game the three of us would play, you were too young to join."

Anya decided not to push the topic. She'd never heard of such game but also never understood the odd dynamic between Lyanna, Brandon and Dorrick anyway.

"Well, Ned and I thought it was a funny jape," She assured absently.

"H-he did?"

"Then again, Ned always thought it funny how riled Brandon would get whenever you'd play a jape."

The rest of their journey had been in silence as Dorrick had an odd tinge of pink to his cheeks; and Anya was delighted by the mud puddles she'd purposely stomp in.

As the two children entered Wintertown's incredibly busy market space, Dorrick began to feel nervous. The rushing and hurrying of the small folk selling and buying their trades, intimidated both children.

"We're here now, and I assume you have a plan?" Dorrick drawled with petulant sarcasm.

He was intentionally hoping Anya would remember his disagreement with the entire situation. With practiced ease, Anya ignored his complaining and approached the nearest stall. Again, Dorrick felt his heart pound with anxious dread but she'd already addressed the stall owner before he could drag her back.

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

The Farmer at first tried to ignore the dirty faced child peering over his crops. The child was disgustingly filthy and stank of rotten fruit and other things. He could barely refrain from curling his lips in a sneer and crinkling his nose with disgust.

"What do you want? Ain't got nothing for yah, shoo!" he hissed but the child continued to stare.

"What are you selling sir?" the child addressed.

The farmer could feel the stares of his fellow traders and stall owners. The pressure of their stares causing him to sweat in his breeches. 'Get rid of the runt before they ruin our business!' their eyes accused. He motioned again, hoping a more aggressive action would chase the child away.

"Get lost I said. I don't want none of your kind near my business!" he hissed.

Instead of cowering or even feeling threatened, the child seemed to brighten with delight.

"My kind? And what kind am I, sir?" the child pressed.

Desperate to be rid of the child, the Farmer spoke mindlessly, cruelly listing how repulsive the child's presence was. It was only as he began to list how beast like and disgraceful the child behaved, did the dirty orphan step back with a grin.

"Apologies sir, may the gods bless your sales."

And with a skip in their step, the child bounced away looking oddly smug. The farmer felt incredibly confused for a few seconds, watching as the strange orphan joined another orphan looking boy. He would have contemplated the encounter a little longer if he'd not been approached by a customer.

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

Dorrick begun to feel ill.

The Jeweler, the Silk seller, the Seamstress, one by one they chased Anya away with disgusted sneers and degrading words. They insulted her in many ways, calling her an ugly beast, a filthy blight, a thief in the making. Before Anya would even be close enough to address them, they'd already crinkled their noses as if smelling something fowl. Regardless of such treatment, Anya determinedly marched to the next stall and Dorrick could feel both his temper and shock increase.

How could the small folk be so stupid and blind?

These are the people who would rush to the little lady on her visits, desperate for her attention. They have seen her clean faced and well-groomed and sung her praises. Even with her dirty state and unpleasant stench, do they truly not recognise her as their beloved little Lady?

Dorrick clenched his jaw and studied the small folk around him, and his temper grew greater. Though subtle, he saw the quick side glances and upturned twitches on lips. He knew then that the small folk had made this to be a game. Their words were deliberate now, increasing in cruelty each stall Anya approached. A game in which they wondered who could scare the 'filthy little orphan' away for good.

This was no longer about some silly little bet, or even about Lyanna Stark's manner.

Dorrick would not stand idle on the sides and listen as they degraded Lady Anya any further.

Anya had been suffering through the Bakers wife's outburst when he gripped at her wrist and pulled her away.

"Wah-"

"Enough. You've proven your point. Let's go." He shortly gritted out through clenched teeth.

Anya didn't protest, suddenly wary about the dark glint she could see shining in Dorrick's glare. They'd barely stepped away from the stall when the Bakers wife let out a loud shriek of anger.

"THIEF! THIEF! You've stolen from me!" she accused.

Both Dorrick and Anya looked up with shock as they realized the woman pointed at them.

"You're mistaken!" Dorrick argued but several men from the neighboring stalls began to corner them.

"There was bread now there ain't! You! This was planned, you worked together to steal from me!" She roared.

Dorrick stepped in front of Anya, protectively shielding her from the angry crowd. Anya however was frowning intensely as she studied the Bakers wife. It was brief, only appearing for a second, but Anya had spotted it before it could fade. She saw the flash of sly arrogance in the Bakers wife. The woman knew Anya had not stolen from her and was lying for attention.

Anya felt her insides grow cold as icy fury began to flow through her veins.

She knew this stall, the baker and his family had always offered her free treats whenever she visited Wintertown. Anya had always thought them to be kind, earnest and sincere. Yet, here is proof that the Bakers wife is a liar. Anya had always thought highly of her people, proud of their kindness and reputation for being embracing of visitors.

And yet, today not one of them offered her, in her orphan looking state, an ounce of kindness.

Disgusting.

Fickle minded and cruel.

These are the people who condemn her sister for her ways?

These are the people who call her sister beastly and give her no respect?

Something in Anya roars furiously and she curls her fists tightly.

Dorrick is facing forward and does not witness the shifting expression of the girl behind him. He does not see how her child soot covered face shifted into something cold, detached and furious. Nor do any of the angrily accusing small folk, for why should they worry about a child? What harm could a mere child pose to them?

"Thieves are to be punished." The baker decided as he stood in support of his wife.

Majority of the crowd gave a cheer…all except one.

A dark cloaked man pushed his way through the crowd and stood protectively before both children.

"The children claim innocence!" the man argued.

The Bakers wife gave a gasp of insult and hissed back.

"Are you accusing me of lying?"

The arguing began to increase, and Dorrick quickly pulled Anya away from the crowd. She fought him, tugged at her wrist attempting to storm back towards the Baker's stall, but Dorrick was stronger. They found a corner to hide.

"Let me go I-" Anya hissed as she tried to storm back but Dorrick covered her mouth once more.

Truly, Anya was related to the she-wolf for she could claw just as madly as the Older Stark daughter. Regardless, Dorrick was not loosening his grip, not when the little lady's reputation was at stake. When the small folk realized they'd disappeared, the anger increased.

"I demand you pay the price of my stolen goods!" The baker shouted at the dark cloaked man.

The dark cloaked man held his hands up in defense.

"B-But I have no gold. Please if you just-"

"So you will let us suffer for the children's thievery?"

Anya elbowed and twisted in Dorrick's hold, growing angrier by the passing second as she listened to the unfair justice being carried not too far away from her. The arguing small folk became too great a disturbance and prompted a few of Winterfell's passing guards to interfere.

"SILENCE! What has happened?" The guard demanded.

Dorrick, however, was not willing to linger any longer. He pulled Anya away from the market, ignoring her furious clawing for freedom. The two children had only just caught the faint assurance the guards were giving to the Baker family. They decided to take the cloaked man away for House Stark to sentence.

Eventually, Anya stopped fighting and followed Dorrick's lead. The children only came to a stop by a coverage of trees a little ways away from Wintertown and the road back to Winterfell castle. Anya couldn't speak as her earlier fury had simply frozen over into an icy rage. Dorrick eyed her from the corner of his eye, curious and wary as to what the cold masked little lady could possibly be thinking.

By the Gods graces, Anya eventually spoke.

"What will happen to that man?"

Dorrick didn't bother to hold back the snort he gave at her question.

"Do you not know, little wolf?" he couldn't help the mockery in his tone.

Anya clenched her jaw and Dorrick caught a glimpse of the icy rage she felt gleaming in her eyes. She was truly the proper little Lady of House Stark. Yet after spending the day with her and seeing her true childish self, he struggled to feel cowered by her noble status.

He knew now that Anya Stark, despite her high praises, was at her core still a child.

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

Anya could feel the same unnamed emotion stirring in her belly and twisting her insides. In fact, it was worse than her reactions to seeing Lyanna. It tasted like bitter herbs and ash on her tongue, it pulsed loudly in her blood and something in her mind screamed with anger.

She had felt uncomfortable after the third market stall insulted her. From there, her discomfort shifted into a self-consciousness she'd never truly experienced before until finally it twisted into disgust and anger.

If they had seen her in her lady dresses, with her face clean they would have never dared.

In her current state, Anya had treated each stall owner no differently than she would in her Lady dresses. Yet the small folk gleefully attacked her with their words, uncaring and dismissing her as if she had no right to share their air.

Anya felt invisible and unimportant in the most horrible way possible.

She must have been silent for much too long as Dorrick spoke up once more. His gaze was distant and dark as he stared at the roots of a nearby tree. She saw how his jaw was clenched with hatred and anger that bled into his words.

"Do you understand the truth of everything?" He prompted again.

Anya kept quiet but she did not look away when Dorrick approached her, prowling like a predator would prey. But Anya was a wolf and she did not cower, she stood tall, daring the older boy to challenge her.

"If you are nothing, then you receive nothing. You don't matter…..and people who don't matter are better off dismissed. So we struggle to be worthy of something rather than nothing. We fight, we work, we live to be worthy of something more than we are."

And Anya understands Dorrick's angry hatred towards Lyanna better now than before. She must have expressed her revelation on her face as Dorrick mockingly parrots the question that started this entire outing.

"Who was he to me?"

And Anya knows the answer to be simple, but she does not say it out loud.

Pack.

'The lone wolf dies but the pack survives' but without a surviving pack….. You are simply a lone wolf that will die.

Dorrick sighs but motions for her to follow and stay close as they return. This time, their journey along the road is filled with a stiff heavy and deeply thoughtful silence. The guards don't look twice as they enter, ignoring the 'two stable boys', but Dorrick takes note that it is the usual guards in place.

And he breathes a little easier, as if he has passed some unknown test.

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

Rickard is expecting her to visit and purposely lingers longer in his solar. She comes as he is reading his latest correspondence with a certain Southern House. He refrains from looking up, doing his best to keep his eyes on the parchment before him, however his ears strain to hear her every movement and soft breath.

"Father….." she starts.

The Lord of House Stark gives an audible hum, but continues to pretend to be distracted.

"A-are you busy?"

Rickard has not heard his youngest daughter sound so meekly hesitant around him for many years. A part of him has missed the shy wanderlust little girl she'd once been, and so he quickly looks up at her address. She is clean faced and dressed in her usual manner, looking every bit like the soft little lady she is. But he sees the ache in her expression, the cracks of her cold mask have grown larger; revealing the earnest child she is at her core.

And Rickard does his best to hide the smile that attempts to appear on his lips.

"Is something the matter?"

Anya fidgets where she stands, contemplating the platter of fruit with a distant mind. When she none too gently places it on his table, she looks up at him with eyes filled with determination. Despite maintaining his own mask of cool observation, Rickard is curious to see what her mind has deduced from her outing.

"Last night….. You told me of the rights Dorrick was owed as a lad from common origins. I-I think I understand better what you meant…"

Rickard patiently waited for Anya to gather her thoughts.

"I went to Wintertown today and I- I saw something upsetting. I'd taken Dorrick along and at seeing my distress he explained to me the importance of worth."

Anya looked at him with such wide glossy eyes and a trembling lip of distraught.

"Father….. What happens to wolves who have no more pack to live for? What happens to a wolf abandoned and alone? What happens to the lone wolf that gives up on fighting for another day?"

Rickard did not expect her questions to lead to such heavy and dark thoughts. In fact, her questions ring uncomfortably in his ears as his heart aches for his lost love. He looks at his youngest daughter and again sees the ghostly image of Lyarra behind her. Yet, there is something on the brow of his daughter's head, it shines gold with a silver wolf and blue gems.

He takes a breath and answers as steadily as he may.

"The lone wolf dies but the pack survives. One may leave but more may stay. Yet if more should leave and one may stay… what worth they find in life is a matter of their own choice."

Anya hurries closer to his side and settles on his lap as she used to. She looks frighten, afraid in a way he cannot stomach to witness, and there is a teary shine to her eyes. She hugs him, pressing her ear to his chest and urging him to cradle her close.

"Tell me you will always stay," she begs.

This is not the lesson Rickard wished to teach her. He had intended for her to understand the importance of worth, hard work and respect. Hoped she would learn such lesson and teach the same to her sister. Instead she had learned something other, a truth about him he never thought would be discovered by his children.

And then she begins to cry in his arms and all he can do is hold her.

He never does tell her such a thing.

Because it will be a lie.

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

Late in the night Lord Rickard Stark caresses the cheek of his youngest daughter. He is solemn and worn, looking haggard with age. Anya slumbers deeply, her face still damp from her earlier outpour of emotions. Rickard finds himself confessing to the dark shadows, the lingering cold and the sleeping form of his daughter yet again.

"You are growing in a way I can no longer predict. It frightens me. Once again, your mother is proving to be right and I am in agony over it."

He curls his fingers and looks to the ghostly image of his wife, mindlessly voicing his fear.

"Am I making a mistake?"

Lyarra's ghostly form gives a smile but ultimately fades and Rickard is left alone in his daughter's room, talking to shadows, cold and a slumbering child. He kisses Anya's brow one last time before leaving her chambers. The icy blank mask he usually adorns when dealing with Lordly matters settles on his skin with ease. Instead of readying for sleep, Rickard returns to his solar where his most trusted spy awaits.

"How fares Clatton Slynt?" he questions.

The shadowed figure scoffs out a laugh of amusement but easily answers.

"The Master sends his apologies but says his service is done. He seeks to take the mantle of Rider instead. The little horse will do well in his place."

Rickard hums and contemplates the stable boy named Dorrick. The boy had shown he cared deeply for Anya, prioritizing her safety, seeing she returned and indulging in her scheme. Rickard also had no need to worry that the boy may hold romantic affections for his daughter considering his interest in swords. He had good instincts and a potential for savagery that could serve great use in other ways.

But Rickard is lacking in spies deeper South, and Anya has yet to foster connections in such directions. To make Clatton Slynt Anya's personal rider would not be ideal. He contemplates the variables a little longer before making his decision.

"The accused thief from the market, where is he being held?"

The shadowed figure only smiles.

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

Anya wakes with sticky eyes and an aching chest. She wishes the discussion she'd had with her father had been a dream, but knows it was not. Instead of waking for her chores or readying for her day as she usually would. Anya simply curled deeper into her furs and wallowed in her heart ache. She ignored the knocks on her doors from the maids, lost deep in thought on how she could overcome the truth of her father's heart and mind.

When Lyanna pounds on her door, Anya is more or less certain of what she intends to do.

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

Lyanna was terrified.

As soon as word had reached her of Anya's refusal to leave her chambers, the she-wolf had raced to her sister's room. She'd ordered no word to reach Benjen's ears until they are certain it is not illness that has taken hold over Anya. Lyanna was already drafting what she may say to her older brothers to bring them home. She was mentally reviewing what she knew of her father's schedule to ensure he would be alerted in a timely matter.

So she is more than relieved when Anya opens her door by her fifteenth knock.

"ANYA! What's the matter? Are you feeling ill? Here, I must check if you have a fever!"

Anya did not reject Lyanna's fussing, simply led her deeper into her chambers and closed the door. Then, Lyanna noticed the puffy redness to her sister's face, the sadness and heart ache in her eyes. Fear gripped tighter at Lyanna's heart and she pulled her little sister close.

"You've been crying! What happened? Who did it?"

The two sisters settled on Anya's bed and clung to one another. Lyanna was suddenly reminded that this is the first time since their fight, Anya's allowed her to hold her close. The she-wolf was even more apprehensive about her sister to the point of anxious paranoia.

Eventually, Anya spoke but it was not what Lyanna ever would have expected.

"I'm sorry, Lya"

"Wha-"

"It's my fault the help and small folk don't respect you!"

"Of course it isn't!"

But Anya shook her head and looked up at Lyanna with teary eyes filled with certainty.

"I've replaced you! I've stolen the respect you are owed as a Lady by doing your chores! It's my fault-"

Lyanna couldn't stand to hear anymore and she stood up with brash anger in her voice to scold her silly little sister.

"Why are you acting so stupid!? You haven't stolen anything from me, nor have you 'replaced me'! Who put such stupid ideas in your head? Tell me now!"

Lyanna did not expect the outpouring rant Anya erupted into. Anya told Lyanna all about how she overheard the help dragging Lyanna's name. She angrily confessed to her reasons of asking for the Lady's Gathering. She told Lyanna all about how she witnessed the false arrest of an innocent man in Wintertown's market.

Yet as Anya voiced all the bottled frustrations, stress and fears she's hidden behind her mask. Lyanna slowly realized the true cause of all her little sisters' frustrations. Suddenly, Lyanna was aware that her betrayal to her little sister went deeper than simply lying about Clatton Slynt. In fact, the she-wolf finally realized that all Anya's problems were due to her actions.

How had she not realized the selfishness of her actions?

How had she not seen the consequences Anya suffered because of her selfish wants?

"If I had never done your chores then everyone would see you as the Lady I know you are!" Anya mumbles.

Lyanna's heart sinks as the truth of her failure strikes her soul. Although it is Brandon and Ned who have left Winterfell, Lyanna realizes now that it is she who truly abandoned their sister.

She has to fix this.

Lyanna pulls back and grabs Anya's head with both hands, forcing the younger girl to look at her.

"Listen to me Anya. Don't you ever say such shit again! If I ever hear you say such things I will tie you down and send a letter to Ned and he will use his words for you. You have done nothing but be an amazing blessing in my life. If the gods had never given you to me, I would have been worse than I am. You make me better, you give me strength and are the reason I shine as I am. If anyone has failed it is me."

Anya swallows but she is listening, still she croaks out a weak denial.

"B-but I am supposed to support you. I'm the second born daughter!"

Lyanna smiles but her face has grown wet. She sniffs and grins at her silly little sister who tried to carry more than she should.

"Yes, but I am the first. Mama….Mama said remember? Do you remember what she said?"

Anya nodded and after a breath she spoke.

"You and I are sisters always, you the first and I the second. Where you lead I will follow and should you fall I will catch you, but together we will strive to reach the stars."

Lyanna nodded as Anya quoted the odd tale their mother would tell them before bed.

"But you can't catch me if I'm still on the ground."

Anya sniffed and Lyanna hugged her sister again.

"I'm sorry I've let you suffer for so long."

The sisters spent the rest of the day in bed, and no one disturbed them as ordered.

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

Over the course of the next few weeks, Winterfell witnessed another change.

Before the sun had risen in the sky, Lyanna Stark was awake, hard at work and tending to the castle's needs. By morning, the she-wolf had already organised the distributions and taken care of all purchases needed to be made. She ensured the cooks cooked, the guards guarded and the help helped. She managed her lady studies and dedicated her free time to mastering the art of the needle.

Anya Stark woke late into the afternoon and took a stroll among the gardens. She sat through her younger brother's lessons and helped the Maester with his medical remedies.

By the evening meal, Rickard Stark received a recount of his children's day. Lyanna discussed with him all the ways she thought the castle needed improvement in terms of management. Anya cheerfully described the wonders of her latest study with the Maester, and Benjen boasted of how his sword skill had improved.

Rickard Stark smiled as he ate with a heart that felt just a little more whole.


*The Narration of this story is unreliable as I focus mostly on Anya and her siblings development. I'd written some dark political scenes that didn't make the cut and changed the entire tone of this fic. There is a lot of background stuff happening such as Rickard and Lyarra's spy network and how they've been manipulating the political game. Also, quite a bit of details surrounding the Northerner's savagery and how Commoner's actually behave and act when they are not in the spotlight. But, because this is primarily a Family focused fic, I won't be adding those details to this story. But let me tell you, Lyarra and Rickard in their prime were honest to god evil politicians who would do anything for their pack's success.*