PREFACE

I would like to start by thanking the reader for clicking on my story. This is the sixth story I have ever worked on and posted online to be read publicly. I do not have a beta to help proofread my work, so mistakes will be present. I will try to mitigate them as much as possible. If there are mistakes, please let me know so that I can correct them grammatically.

I do not own any of the characters in this story that were created by George R.R. Martin, nor do I own the rights to the television series created by David Benioff and D. B. Weiss for HBO. I am not making any money or proceeds from this story or any other story that I upload onto this site. This story is simply a plot bunny that I needed to get out of my head. The only characters I can claim as my own are the original ones. The reader will recognize them as original because they were not in any of the original books or movies.

I will be adding trigger warnings as I see fit at the beginning of the chapter if they are needed. This story will be labeled as MA. It may or may not happen quickly as this is based on Game of Thrones.

I do not intend to character bash without restraint as there are areas of the original story line that I intend to address, alter, or ignore completely. I do not intend to have the basic troupes or Mary Sue type characters. However, as I am still new to writing all I can ask is that the reader is understanding. Please leave reviews so that I can know how I am doing!

It was a fog filled morning in the north at Winterfell. Wren had woken up when the other female staff members of the house had risen. Some went to tend to the fires, others to cook. Laundry needed to be always done to ensure the household ran smoothly according to Lady Starks regime.

Wren Snow, younger twin of Jon Snow, was only several seconds younger than her beloved brother. Where Jon, at 16, was all muscle and quiet faithfulness to family and duty, Wren was different. Wren had not inherited the black curly hair her brother had, nor had she gained the dark grey eyes of their father. Her hair was long, pale as silk, and just curly. Her eyes she assumed she inherited from her mother, as they were the brightest shade of green anyone could remember seeing. Her frame was sleight as was her stature. At 16, she had developed in the way of a women, but was by no means particularly blessed in the areas men appeared to appreciate. Not that she had ever experienced anything other than stolen kisses behind barn doors with a stable hand.

She loved her brother and her family dearly but knew that it was the people who made their lives possible. Without the people, their people, Winterfell would be nothing. The House of Stark had maintained a hold on Winterfell for nearly 8,000 years according to legend and the Maesters.

It was the people who did the washing, the growing, the cleaning, the fighting, and everything else that needed doing to maintain Winterfell. The House of Stark knew this, probably better than most houses, that the people and allies are what kept everyone safe.

When their father, Eddard "Ned" Stark had returned home to Winterfell carrying not one but two unexpected babies in his arms his wife, Catelyn Stark was livid. She was cruel to the illegitimate children of her husband in a way that was cold and without love. Oh, she had raised them. She tended to their needs until they were old enough to handle it themselves. She ensured they were fed, educated, and cared for when ill. Especially when Jon got that terrible fever years ago. As much as she wanted to, Wren knew it wasn't fair to hold the cold actions against the woman, even if they were just innocent children.

After all, when someone goes off to war, they're lucky their loved ones come back in one piece physically. The stress of not only having her husband finally return home but with the evidence of his free time crying and needing diaper changes was not the occasion the woman expected nor deserved.

Shaking her curly head of those thoughts, Wren moved to prepare for the day. Unlike most Houses, the Stark girls were expected to not only be productive members of their home but to also maintain the duties of the female sex. Being the eldest of the girls, even though she was a bastard, Wren had attended all the lessons required of her should she marry into another house. At the very least, Catelyn Stark insisted that she knew how to care for a home, whether it be a hovel or a House.

Sansa, the eldest legitimate daughter of the House of Stark, enjoyed the attention and the lessons of her mother. At 13, everything was still fairy tales and princes of horses waiting to bring her to their castle. She took pride in her stitch work, her clothing, and being always presentable. Her chores often were focused on mending the clothing of the House or attending lessons.

Arya, at 11, was the distinct opposite. All rough with mud from chasing her brothers to falling underfoot trying to attend archery and sword lessons, she was the youngest wild daughter of the House of Stark. Where Sansa was growing to view Wren more and more as a mistake her father had brought home, Arya still loved her older half sister with everything in her.

It probably helped that Wren would purloin snacks from the kitchen or other such goodies for her youngest sister. She would also take her with her on her chores.

While Arya didn't find field work interesting, pretending to sword fight as her eldest sister checked the crops and the medical herb plots was an excellent way to spend her time in her young mind.

Wren had sat through all the different lessons her Catelyn Stark had deemed required for the girl. She had also sat through her brother's lessons from their father. Catelyn hadn't approved of the lessons, but Ned had put his foot down. He ever so rarely did when it came to the twins, but Catelyn listened whenever it did happen.

Wren was happiest when surrounded by trees or fields of flowers and herbs. It was quickly noted when she was a toddler that plants had a way of responding to her.

Witch some would have whispered. But not the House of Stark. They were followers of the Old Gods. When she was but two years old, she toddled out of the keep into the godswoods filled with heart trees. It had been a winter's night, but that didn't seem to have slowed down the young girl. She was found in the morning, nestled under one of the heart trees with flowers blooming around her. Ned, the Maester who had joined him, and several other guards had sworn there and then that she was nothing but a blessing, regardless of how she came to be.

Jon, on the other hand, possessed no such innate ability with plants. He wasn't put out by that, however. Instead, he focused his energy on learning how to sword fight and smith the weapons he and the other men used.

She was always welcome in the fields by those who worked it. Winterfell had seen some of the best harvests in their recent history with her helping tend to their crops. She was often called upon by their allies and neighbors to help oversee theirs as well. She found peace and comfort in minding plants.

A healthy crop of healing herbs could be collected to better fend off or fight a plaque. Store houses filled with grains and preserves would ensure more survivors should winter come. She, her brother, and all their siblings had been born in the summertime. Summer children they were referred to. Born in times of plenty and prosperity.

But that seemed to be turning. Whispers from beyond the wall made their way to Winterfell. Stories of white walkers, of blue-eyed demons, and wildings were becoming more than old wife's tales and drunken rants. The elders would whisper that winter is coming, House Stark's motto, would be happening sooner rather than later. Those that had lived through hard times, bloody wars, and starvation always feared when those words were uttered.

The people could only hope that the rest of the world took their warnings seriously.

It was on this day that the rest of Wren's and House Stark's lives changed forever.

Bran, one of her younger brothers, was practicing his archery with Jon and his older brothers to help. He had missed his mark once again and was getting frustrated. Their parents were watching proudly from a breezeway at his progress.

In another part of Winterfell, Sansa, Arya, Wren, and several other young women were working on their needlepoint. Sansa, who enjoyed this activity, always put in extra work to ensure her creations came out the best.

"Fine work as always. Well done," completement Sansa's maid. Arya looked over at her elder sister with a glare.

"Thank you" Sansa replied flushed with pleasure from the complement.

"I love the detail that you've managed to get in these corners. Quite beautiful, the stitching."

The fire crackled warmly in its hearth, keeping the ladies comfortable from the chill the fog had brought in that day. The sound of arrows being shut and missing their mark rang out from the courtyard down below.

Arya, clearly hating every moment of her needlepoint, seemed distracted at the sound. She turned toward Wren after another arrow missed its mark. Wren simply raised one of her elegantly plucked blonde eyebrows at the girl's silent request. Arya smirked at the sight before claiming to need to use the rest room and scurried away.

Wren rolled her eyes and tried to focus once more on her task at hand. Shortly after the sound of her brother's laughter and a slight scuffle filled the courtyard. Wren figured that her youngest sister had indeed done what she set out to do.

It wasn't much later that her brothers, including Bran, were told to saddle up and ride. Apparently, a deserter from the Night's Watch had been captured.

What Wren hadn't expected was for her family to return from their duties with puppies of a direwolf. One for each of them. Direwolves didn't come south of the wall for any reason normally.

Just another sign that things were not well north of the wall.

The fact that both Jon and she had also been given pure white pups was a shock. One for each of the Stark children, legitimate or otherwise.

John had decided to name his Ghost, while Wren decided to name hers Thorn. While ghost had pink eyes, Thorn had deeper color eyes of nearly violet. Both had fur the color of snow, just as their surnames described.

The joy of the puppies was tempered with a raven. Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, had died. The king, the queen, and the entire entourage meant to ride to Winterfell.

Lady Stark was in a very unpleasant mood after she had informed Ned.

Apparently if the King himself planned on coming to Winterfell after the death of his hand, there was only one thing that could mean for his longtime friend.

Time passed as those who lived in Winterfell readied their halls for their royal guests. Lady Stark was as strict as a general getting everything prepared.

"We'll need plenty of candles for Lord Tyrion's chamber. I'm told he reads all night," Lady Stark ordered. Wren, who had been told she would be Lady Starks personal attendant in the matters regarding the King and their other guests, made sure to write that down in her notepad as she followed closely behind.

"I'm told he drinks all night," came the gruff reply from Maester Luwin.

"How much could he possibly drink? A man of his. . . stature?" Lady Stark asked, trying to be as polite as possible. Wren looked down, trying not to flush at the insinuation her stepmother implied.

"We've brought up eight barrels of ale from the cellar. Perhaps we will find out."

"-In any case," Lady Stark continued, "candles."

Bran was the first to see the parade of royalty. He was constantly climbing on the walls of the keep, his puppy waiting faithfully below him.

"Gods, but how they grow fast," Lady Stark commented after looking at Bran's faithful pup. Then, she looked up to see Bran in all his climbing glory scaling down from the wall.

"Brandon!" She yelled forcefully. Wren flinched. She knew her little brother was about to get told off. Thankfully, Lady Stark was much kinder in her discipline of her own flesh and blood.

"I saw the King!" Bran said out of breath as he jumped the final distance to the ground. "He's got hundreds of people."

"How many times have I told you no climbing?" She exclaimed, sounding more exasperated than angry with every word.

"But he's coming right now, down our road."

She got down at eye level with her second youngest son at that point, hands folded together between her thighs. "I want you to promise me, no more climbing."

Bran looked down at his feet before looking up at his mother's face looking guilty. "I promise," he said in a small voice.

Wren rolled her eyes at the false promise. Asking Bran not to climb was like telling Arya to put on lace or Sansa to practice sword fighting.

Lady Stark stood up at that point before putting her hands on her hips. "You know what?" she eventually asked.

"What?"

"You always look at your feet before you lie." This got a guilty chuckle from the boy and a small smile from Lady Stark. "Now, run and find your father. Tell him the King is close." Bran ran off at that point. Lady Stark turned towards Wren at that point.

"Wren, go get cleaned up and changed. I shan't have you looking like a stable girl in front of the King and his court. Be quick about it." Wren nodded her head at the woman before rushing off to bathe and change.

After her bath and taming her curls into something somewhat acceptable for royalty, Wren changed into a lovely green dress Sansa had made for her birthday earlier that year. While it wasn't the prettiest of dresses, it was something her sister had made for her, and she intended to do it justice. Plus, it would make Sansa smile which made it worth it.

The Stark family was lined up all in a row with their most loyal staff as the King's coach pulled into the courtyard. Arya was missing still from the lineup, only to be caught wearing a helmet of her own on top of a cart to get a better view. Wren didn't blame the girl.

Having been short all her life, Wren could understand. It wasn't every day they received such royal guests. The Queen enjoyed making a scene and everyone of her court were dressed to impress in their battle armor. Jon pinched Wren on her right thigh to get her attention. She pinched him back, but he refused to groan about it. Instead, he smirked his half smile before winking at her and focusing on their guests.

Arya eventually ran into line, but her helmet was confiscated from her head prior to being noticed by their mother.

Sansa was making lovesick eyes at who Wren assumed to be Prince Joffrey, who looked smug in return. Wren didn't think that would bode well whatsoever.

Eventually the King, fat and balding arrived and everyone bowed as he stepped down from his horse.

He immediately walked up to Ned and held his hand motioning for him to rise. They stared at one another before Ned bowed with a gentle but firm "Your Grace." The King stared at him as if he had lost his mind.

"You got fat," the King eventually said. Her father just raised an eyebrow at the king, looked down at his robust girth, and back at the King's face. They both burst into laughter at that point before hugging.

"Cat!" The King said next, hugging her stepmother warmly.

"Nine years, why haven't I seen you? Where the hell have you been?" He demanded of Ned.

"Guarding the north for you, your Grace. Winterfell is yours."

As the men reacquainted themselves, Wren watched the queen, her ladies' maids, and her children step out of the carriage they had ridden in on.

"Where's the Imp?" Arya asked loudly towards Sansa.

"Will you shut up?" was Sansa's quick reply.

The commotion earned the notice of the King Robert. "Who have we here? You must be Rob." He shook his hand before moving on towards Sansa.

"My, you're a pretty one." He moved down to Arya at that point, bending down to see her at eye level. "And your name is?"

"Arya"

Bran was next. "Oh, show us your muscles" King Robert teased kindly, which Bran happily complied. It got a chuckle out of the King. "You'll be a solder."

The queen walked up to the family at that point, looking around at everyone. Her blonde hair, more like wheat rather than the silky light blond of Wren's hair, blowing in the wind out of the bun it has been placed in.

She stared at Ned until he also bowed to her and kissed her hand. "My queen" he said formally. Her stepmother quickly followed, sans kiss.

"Take me to your crypt" came from the King. "I want to pay my respects."

The queen quickly interjected. "We've been riding for a month, my love. Surely the dead can wait."

Acting as if he hadn't heard her, the King turned towards her father and quickly called his name. "Ned." And they both went towards the family crypt.

"Where's the Imp" Arya asked once more to Sansa. The queen looked disgusted and turned away at that. Whether it was the mention of her brother or the disregard of her husband, Wren wasn't sure. Maybe it was just a month of riding on the road adding to the stress of everything else.

"Where is our brother? Go and find the little beast" she ordered her twin, Jaime Lannister. His blond hair the same shade as hers. The king slayer. Wren had most definitely heard the stories of him. He left shortly after, and the Starks moved to welcome their guests into their accommodations.

The welcoming feast that night was full of good drinks, great food, and laughter. The musicians were playing their best tunes, and all the pretty women of Winterfell were attending to the King as enjoyed. He was already very much into his cups and was dancing and kissing other women in full view of the queen and wren's stepmother. Ironically, both women were wearing the same lemon sour facial expression at the spectacle he made of himself.

Jon had been told to stay out of sight from the feast by Lady Stark as not to offend the royal family. Wren was allowed to attend, but only if she sat with the other household girls and stayed out of trouble. Lady Stark knew she would need to be prepared to find a husband sooner rather than later. Wren supposed that Lady Stark was hoping one of the men from the royal family's entourage would take a liking to her.

Unfortunately for Lady Stark, Wren had no desire to marry or please a man at this time if ever. She had seen the ways of men and heard the stories, and found she was not envious of the women who had been taken whether willingly or not. Too many nights she had held a crying woman in her arms and offered silent comfort and healing salves for their hurts, but nothing could fix the internal injuries that men could cause.

Suddenly Sansa's scream of "Arya" following a lob of food thrown at her cheek and the chuckles of those around broke the spell that seemed to have been placed on Wren. Lady Stark signaled with her eyes that it was time for Arya to retire for the evening. Wren stood up, made her apologies to those around her, and locked her arm around her littles sister's arm to gracefully but firmly escort her out of the dining hall.

She groaned at the dismissal. Once they were safely out of eye and earshot, she tickled Arya. "Troublemaker, you're lucky that didn't get on her new dress. You know she made that just for the prince."

"I know!" Arya exclaimed. "That's what I was aiming for!"

"Then your archery is better than your food fighting skills" Wren teased.

Arya rolled her eyes." What's wrong with Sansa lately? All she can think about is dresses and boys. She used to be fun." Arya sulked as she got into her bed.

"Lovey, she's growing up."

"You didn't turn into a dolt." Arya pointed out.

"Well, I'm not Sansa. She's growing up in her own way. Right now, its dresses and princes. For you, it might be swords and troublemaking."

"And you Wren? Are you going to change?"

"We all change crotch goblin, its part of life. But I will always be your sister just as Sansa will. Just try to be patient while she works things out in her head."

"Fine, but I won't like it."

"Oh, trust me, we are all aware" Wren said with a smirk before kissing Arya on her forehead and blowing out the candles. Now get some est. I have a feeling the drama is only starting."

"Goodnight Wren"

"Goodnight troublemaker."