She stood in the balcony above Winterfell's courtyard, head in hand as she watched men practicing with weapons. Two sparred with blunted swords and the sound of steel against steel echoed throughout the yard. Some men were practicing with bows and arrows, and the sight made Anera smile sadly. She missed her bow and she had to fight everything inside her not to go down and join them with their practicing.

Soon, those men would ride off to join Robb in the Riverlands. Many of them would die fighting the Lannisters or the Baratheons or whoever the Hell they were fighting. Anera didn't care about the Southern enemies. The real enemy was Northern, really, truly, Northern, and he didn't care about who had beheaded who or which man was married to which woman. Had she been born on the other side of the Wall, perhaps she could have understood this war they were fighting. Understood why the death of Eddard Stark had sparked a rebellion or why the marriage of Renly Baratheon and Margaery Tyrell was causing such unease among the Southern lords.

She received this new information from Maester Luwin and Brandon. Maester Luwin had taken a liking to her and had begun teaching her to read with the old books in Winterfell's libraries. He was also teaching her how to write. She was learning how to act like a Southerner, but she didn't know if that was a good thing or not.

Her father would have told her not to forget who she was. Where she was born and how she had grown up. But it was getting harder to remember as she learned the ways of the people of Winterfell. They were hardly different from the Free Folk, if not more organized in how they managed things. She hated to admit to herself that she was enjoying her time there, as well as the people she had come to meet in the castle. Free of Theon Greyjoy's taunting, she could joke with Brandon if she so pleased without being told to go off and do work. She was, strangely, happy.

But at night, she could not help but be restless. She had warned Robb Stark that he was marching in the wrong direction. The Southern enemies were nothing compared to what she had seen beyond the Wall. Her dead mother coming back with eyes bluer than the sky and no emotion to speak for. Her father had burned down their home in his haste to rid himself of the phantom that wore his love's face. And when the ashes settled, she was dead again, and this time, she did not come back. Anera could remember her father curling in on himself as he fell to his knees in the snow and wept.

He had told her to join the group traveling South. He hadn't wanted her to suffer through seeing someone she loved risen from the dead. She supposed she could understand why he had sent her away, but it didn't make her any less heartbroken to think of him, alone now out in the cold with no one to protect him as he got older. It was hard to force those thoughts from her mind when she was alone in her bed at night.

She dreamed sometimes of a man with black hair and eyes so clear and so blue that they looked like chips of ice. He would smile a smile that did not meet his terrible eyes and hold a dagger to her throat. Or he would hold a polished bow made with pitch black wood, an arrow aimed steadily at her heart.

If she did not dream of the man with the strange blue eyes, then she dreamed of a figure lying in the show, blood covering his chest and his face hidden from view. She would wake weeping for the death of this stranger in her dreams, searching for an imaginary weapon that she could never find. After these dreams, she would not be able to get back to sleep, instead tossing and turning for hours until the sun rose in the sky and the birds began singing in the trees. Perhaps she was losing her mind. The idea would not have surprised her.

One afternoon, Anera and Osha were serving the lords in the great hall. Brandon was doing his duties as acting lord well, Anera noted, as she listened from the back of the hall. Of course, she didn't listen too closely. Their concerns were not her own. She was glad of their leaving, but suddenly, Ser Rodrik Cassel, Winterfell's master-at-arms, was bursting into the room. "Bran- - Lord Stark," he said, coming up to face the table. "Torrhen's Square is under siege."

"Torrhen's Square is barely forty leagues from here," Maester Luwin said. "How can the Lannisters strike so far north?"

"Might be a raiding party led by the Mountain," Ser Rodrik replied. "Might be sellswords paid by Tywin Lannister."

"We have to help them," Brandon said.

"Most of the fighting men are away with Robb, but I can gather two hundred decent men," Ser Rodrik said.

"Do you need so many?" Maester Luwin asked.

"If we can't protect our own bannermen, why should they protect us?" Brandon said. "Go, Ser Rodrik. Take the men you need."

A smile played at Ser Rodrik's face. "Won't take long, my lord. Southerners don't do well up here," he said.

Osha and Anera watched him hurry from the room with a small group of guardsmen at his back.

The next morning, Osha, Anera, Brandon, and Hodor ventured through the yard, Brandon describing a dream. "So, what does it mean?" he asked, looking at the two women from Hodor's back.

"Ask your Maester Luwin," Osha said. "He's the one studying books all the time."

"I did ask him," Brandon stated. "He'd never heard of a three-eyed raven."

"Must not mean anything, then."

"You're lying."

Osha suppressed a smile. "You might be a little lord, but don't you call me a liar."

"You know what it means," Brandon pressed.

"I never said I didn't."

They stopped to help Brandon onto his horse as he said, "you didn't give me an honest answer."

"That isn't the same as being a liar, little lord," Anera pointed out.

He shook his head. "Well, it's not far off."

"So, you've been dreaming about that three-eyed raven again?" Anera asked him. "In the Godswood, you said you don't dream. That makes you the liar, little lord."

Osha and Anera offered smiles, but Brandon gave no such kindness. "What did you see in your dream?" Osha asked finally, and when he didn't answer, she pressed. "Something bad? Tell us, boy."

He hesitated, took a deep breath, and answered. "I dreamt that the sea came to Winterfell. I saw waves crashing against the gates, and the water came flowing over the walls, flooded the castle. Drowned men were floating here, in the yard. Ser Rodrik was one of them."

Anera swallowed hard, reaching to squeeze his arm. "The sea is hundreds of miles away, little lord. You don't have anything to worry about."

"I know," he said. "It's just a stupid dream."

Osha lifted the basket in her arms. "I've got to get these potatoes to the kitchen, otherwise they'll put us in chains again," she stated. "Anera, come with me."

And before Anera could protest, Osha was pulling her away from Brandon. "Osha, Anera," Brandon said, and they looked back. "The three-eyed raven, what do they say about it north of the Wall?"

Osha shook her head. "They say all sorts of crazy things north of the Wall."

She said nothing more, only took Anera by the arm and left the courtyard.