She aimed another arrow dead center.

"I've got to admit, you're quite good ... for a frog-eater"

"Shut it, Greyjoy"

"Ooh, someone's cranky!"

"D'ya want me to aim the next arrow to your head?", she said, turning to face the Greyjoy and aiming her bow at him threateningly.

Theon then raised his hands in a mocking surrender and left.

She kept notching and loosing arrows into the dummies and targets.

"Did someone anger you?"

Just as she turned, thinking it to be Theon again, she saw two familiar lovable tykes she took to. "Able" Arya and Righteous Rickon.

Meera often thought that if Arya were a bit older, than Lord Stark would not mind marrying her to Jojen. She often wanted a sister and she could bring back much of the life that her brother once had.

"No one has angered me Arya"

Rickon then went off to get the arrows off of where she had launched them all. He then held them up gleefully.

"You seem very mad Meera" he squealed out. Meera took a quick look at them. Nearly forty arrows.

"Huh. I guess I was pretty mad"

"Who were you angry at?"

She almost wanted to say that she was angry at Jon. With his niceties, and that stupid grin of his. But no, she could never truly be angry at him. At times, she could be annoyed with him. But never angry.

In truth, she was more angry at herself than Jon. Why did I have to go on and kiss Jon. What in the Gods was I thinking?

"Uh, I'm a bit angry at myself, Arya"

"What would you have go be angry at yourself for?"

"Its a story for another time. When you are older, mayhaps"

Arya looked at her with those sharp grey eyes. She could cut a man's head off with that hard stare. She then relented with a shrug and began to show Rickon the proper postions for archery. The boy was only six years old yet she could tell that he would grow into a strong and proud warrior.

Rickon then launched an arrow in the center with such ease that it almost scared her.

"Lord Brother of mine", the slope-shouldered man said.

Jojen was right. The young man did look something of a monster with his slope-shoulders, pale blotchy skin and his pale icy blue eyes. He suspected that even if he dressed finely, he would still look rather ugly.

"Ramsay. It's a pleasure to meet you." Domeric said with a smile and a bit of unease.

"DOM!" a young woman screeched out, leaping on to Domeric and hugging him tightly. She is a rather lovely sight for a Bolton. Long brown hair neatly tied to a braid that fell to her left shoulder. a slight and lithe build, pale skin as white as the moon and bright blue eyes like stars.

She bore a small cut of garnet on her ear that resembled a drop of blood. The Boltons's sure have an interesting taste. If the Night's Queen looked like her, he could see why the Thirteenth Lord Commander of the Night's Watch could be enticed.

"Lynara. These a few friends of mine. This is Ser Waymar Royce, Mychel Redfort, Jojen Reed and Jon Snow"

She greeted them all fairly and courteously but as she came to him, she saw her skin brighten a bit.

"Its a pleasure to meet you all. Mychel, I can assume you have kept my beloved brother out of harm's way in your home, and out of trouble?"

"As much as we could, my lady. Jon and Jasper love him like a brother as much as I do. My elderly lord grandfather Horton had him knighted recently for his bravery against the Stone Crows. He had also wanted me to give your lord father a message but considering that Dom is a lord now, it may be best to bring the matters to you my lady."

"Uthor, Lynara. May you show my friends to the guest chambers, please? I'd like to talk to my ... brother Ramsay"

"As you wish my lord. But mayhaps it'd be best to have one of the men-at-arms to ... accompany you?"

Frankly, he would have advised that as well, and Domeric seemed to have taken the message well. Something about Ramsay Snow made him uneasy. "Walton!" A man with steel groves along his long legs then came to his side. Both Bolton brothers made their way to the Lord's chambers.

"That Ramasy is a true scion of House Bolton" Jojen muttered under his breath.

If everything he had heard about the Boltons was true, the madness of the descendants of the Red King seemed to be more evident in Ramsay rather than Domeric.

She did not like this situation one bit.

Ned had told her that he had fathered a child on another woman, but that his loyal bannerman and trusted friend Howland Reed had willingly offered to take the child into his care. For that, she could fortgive her husband until he made mention that it would likely have been better if he had been brought to Winterfell, along with her son.

Ned had not truly forgiven her for the way she reacted. He had told the truth as he had always done. Yet, that did not stop such feelings of unease. Arya and Rickon had already found themselves taken with the boy. Robb did as well but it seemed that whatever friendship that would have been forged had been halted, for now at least. There had been some sort of tension between the two ever since Theon Greyjoy challenged him to a duel, foolhardily believing that he would easily win.

What she dislike the most was how much he looked like Ned. Her Ned.

But he was not always your Ned, a voice in her head said. And that much was true. If things were different, if times were different, she would love him more. But at one point in time, she believed herself to be in love with his brother Brandon. And in spite of having so many happy years with Ned, that would somehow be brought up in so many different ways. And that seemed to renew doubt in her lord husband's heart.

The day of their wedding still burned bright in her mind. How nervous they both seemed. How ecstatic Lysa was in marrying Lord Arryn's son and heir; the Darling of the Vale. The dance they shared. Their bedding, which Ned had at first spurned her. "You are not comfortable with me, nor I with you". How truthful and hurtful that was yet correct.

He had been going to the Godswood more and more lately. The man she loves, who held no secrets, had not been close to her as of late. Who had not come to her bed lately. She missed him. And its likely that bastard's fault. How dare he just show up. She knew how the world worked; how different it is for men than for women. Did his bastard bring up feelings of his mother? Was she his first love?

She would ask him what is on her mind right now, this instant. As she opened the door of the lord's chambers, Ned seemed to be busy with some documents. "Ned. I need to ask you something." Just as Ned cocked her head up to eye her, Maester Luwin came to the door.

"Apologies, my lord. But I have received word from the Dreadfort. Lord Roose Bolton has passed due to a sickness of the bowels and his heir Domeric had come back from the Vale to take his rightful place. Also, Lord Domeric writes that Jojen Reed and Jon Snow are his guests and will stay for the time being."