**Author's Note: Some of these characters are mine. Most of them aren't. Rickon doesn't exist in this, like many other characters, in order to make space for the new ones. This was written mostly for fun for some of my friends. This first chapter is pretty much exposition to familiarize those previously unfamiliar to Game of Thrones.**
Artemis collapsed next to the two heaving bodies beside her. She had just finished a thrilling romp with one of the Starkʼs wards Theon Greyjoy and the beautiful red-headed whore Ros.
"Not bad ladies," Theon breathed. "I expect you two enjoyed yourself."
Ros rolled her eyes. "I expect you didnʼt have too bad a time yourself. Youʼre welcome by the way."
Artemis laughed. Their sharp wit and humor is what made the two of them so endearing to her.
Theon stood, sweat glistening down his chest, and began to pull on his clothes.
"Leaving so soon?" Artemis questioned.
"Some of us have duties to attend to," Theon rebuffed.
"Oh yes, Iʼm sure the kitchen staff were quite concerned when you didnʼt show up to eat all their food this morning," said Ros.
Theon paused. "You speak too freely. Perhaps someone should teach you a lesson."
Ros smirked. "Donʼt worry Theon, Iʼm sure Artemis is more than up for the job."
Theon smiled mischievously and ran a hand through his matted light brown hair. He winked at the two girls, grabbed his shirt, and left the room.
"Well? Surely, you wonʼt disappoint me?" Ros whispered to the green-eyed brunette beside her.
"I have to be in needlepoint class in an hour," Artemis murmured, nuzzling against the beautiful girlʼs neck.
"More than enough time then," Ros said.
At that, Artemis grabbed the other girlʼs hair, planted a rough kiss on her lips, and climbed back on top for another round.
Later that afternoon, five young ladies practiced needlepoint in a small, dimly lit room. Septa Mordane was fawning over Sansa Starkʼs work per usual.
Sansa was thirteen and the eldest of the two Stark daughters. Her younger sister Arya sat on the stool beside her, struggling to rethread her needle. The nine-year- old girl glared at her older sister. She hated how perfect Sansa was sometimes. The older Stark girl was tall, beautiful and thrived at all things ladylike. Meanwhile, Arya couldnʼt stand sitting still or silent, would rather be playing knights with her brothers or sprinting around the forest with her friend Mycah, and she was often mistaken for a boy when she was covered in dirt.
Across the room three other girls sat gossiping: the Starkʼs cousin Kahlan Karstark, the Master of Horseʼs daughter, Artemis Hullen, and the Starkʼs ward, Gianna Targaryen.
"Fine work as always, Sansa! Well done. I love the detail," crooned the septa.
Arya rolled her eyes. She could hear the boys laughing outside and furrowed her brow at the unfairness of it all. She glanced to make sure the Septa wasnʼt watching before trying to catch Artemisʼs attention. After much shuffling around and heavy sighs, the older girl finally looked over. Artemis listened to the boys' shouts, and sympathized with the young girlʼs pain.
"Oh Arya, you look positively pale," Artemis gasped, her deep-set green eyes wide with mock surprise. Before the Septa could get a closer look, she quickly pulled Arya over to the door.
"Not to worry, Septa. Iʼll get her to Maester Luwin right away. She probably just needs a quick herbal pick-me-up."
Kahlan and Gianna exchanged knowing looks as they watched their friend exit the room and head towards the courtyard.
Out in the courtyard, Bran sighed as another arrow missed the target. The ten year old boy had been practicing all morning and had yet to hit the bullseye painted haystack. He felt strong hands grip his shoulders.
"Go on. Father is watching...and your mother."
It was Jon, his half-brother. Jon was born a bastard, conceived during the war known as Robertʼs Rebellion. Their father and Lord of Winterfell, Ned Stark, had come home from the war with him when he was just an infant, much to the disdain of Branʼs mother, Lady Catelyn Stark.
Jon was six years older than Bran, and he had the height and toned muscles to prove it. They both took after their father appearance-wise though. They all had the same dark, serious eyes and thick dark hair - Jonʼs curly and Branʼs straight as the arrow he was desperately trying to aim.
Behind Jon, the eldest Stark boy, Robb, stood with his arms crossed in disapproval. Robb was also sixteen, and he shared Jonʼs height and muscular build. However, his curly auburn hair and light blue eyes were inherited from his mother, Lady Catelyn.
The two older boys were talented with the sword and the crossbow, and they had been trying to help their younger brother practice.
Bran looked up behind him at his mother and father watching expectantly from the balcony. He took a deep breath and nocked another arrow.
It flew past the target again, missing it by a long shot. The older boys laughed wildly at the mistake, causing Bran to angrily throw his bow to the ground.
Their father called out from his perch. "And which one of you was a marksman at ten? Keep practicing Bran. Go on."
The brothers laughter quickly died at their fatherʼs stern words. Bran picked up his bow and grabbed another arrow.
"Donʼt think too much Bran," whispered Jon. "Relax your bow arm," added Robb.
An arrow flew straight into the bullseye with speed and accuracy. Problem was, it didnʼt come from Bran.
The boys whipped their heads around to see Artemis with her arms around Arya, helping her to guide her bow.
It was no secret that Artemis was very athletic and had a talent for archery. She had been discreetly teaching Arya her tricks for months now.
Artemis flicked back her long brown hair and curtseyed. Arya copied her, and Bran (embarrassed by his sisterʼs showmanship) chased her out of the courtyard. Artemis followed close behind, undoubtedly to try and untangle the two mid-brawl.
Loud laughter echoed throughout the courtyard, drawing the other ladies out of their study room.
A few hours later, Gianna, Artemis, and Kahlan had finished their lessons and were now watching the stable hands quickly work to saddle the horses.
"Dancer doesnʼt use that saddle, Caleb," Artemis lectured. As the Master of Horseʼs daughter, the stable was like a second home to her. She quickly scurried off to help.
A deserter of the Nightʼs Watch had been found, and was to be executed. So all the menʼs horses would need to be readied for the ride out to the execution site.
The Nightʼs Watch was a centuries-old order that stood guard at the Wall, an immense ice border at the farthest reaches of the North. They took their vows for life, and desertion was punishable by death.
Artemis and Gianna would ride out with the men. Artemis was an only child. After her mother died, her father never remarried making Artemis his only heir. He insisted that if she was to become the Master of Horse someday, she would need to know all that it would entail.
Gianna on the other hand, had argued with Lord Stark for months before he agreed to let her come on such outings. After all, it was no place for a lady, and Gianna was from noble lineage. However, she had insisted that in order to properly aid her future husband she would need to know how nobles served justice.
Kahlan and Sansa, like many others, couldnʼt wrap their minds around why their peer would subject herself to such a gruesome scene. But truthfully, Gianna was never one for convention.
She was an orphan born to a Targaryen father and Baratheon mother. After the war and the Targaryen slaughter, the infant Gianna was allowed to survive only because of a fondness King Robert Baratheon had for her deceased mother. The new King had sent her to live with the Starks of Winterfell as their ward.
The hatred King Robert bore in his heart for the Targaryen side of her always lingered in the back of her mind though. One wrong move and it would be a swift execution for her too.
"I wish there was another way," Kahlan sighed as her friends mounted their steeds.
Gianna looked down at her sympathetically. "Me too."
Artemis rolled her eyes. "A deserter doesnʼt deserve your sympathy. After all, he knew what the punishment would be." She kicked her horse into a gallop towards the hillside. Theon chasing close behind her, per usual.
Gianna threw one last comforting look to Kahlan before riding off after the others.
The party all rode over the hillside, banners held high. The group consisted of Lord Stark and all of his men (including Artemisʼs father), Robb, Jon, Gianna, Artemis, and much to Giannaʼs surprise, Bran, who previously had always been considered too young to witness these things.
Gianna felt the cold air sting her face, her dark chocolate hair whipping around her. Two of Lord Starkʼs men dragged the deserter towards the execution stone. The man was small, thin, quite bedraggled and was murmuring to himself incessantly.
He looks quite like a weasel, Gianna thought to herself.
As he came closer, she could start to make out what he was saying.
"Whitewalkers...whitewalkers...whitewalkers...I saw them."
He was breathing heavily, and Gianna found she was quite shocked by how clear his bright blue eyes were. Nothing like the crazed madness she had expected.
"I know I broke my oath," he said loudly. "I know Iʼm a deserter. I should have gone back to the wall and warned them, but I saw what I saw. I saw whitewalkers. People need to know."
The men in the party glanced at each other uneasily. Whitewalkers had been extinct for thousands of years. Many believed the ancient race of humanoid ice creatures had never existed at all. They thought the zombie-like beings were just a myth made up to scare children at night, like ice spiders and giants and other creatures that roamed north of the Wall. However, the firmness and determination in this manʼs voice, made it clear that he truly believed in what he was telling them.
He must be delusional, Gianna thought, but something deep inside her wasnʼt so sure.
"Get word to my family," the man continued. "Tell them Iʼm a coward. Tell them Iʼm sorry."
"What is your name," Lord Stark asked.
"Drake Ward, my lord."
Lord Stark nodded solemnly as he grabbed his large Valyrian steel sword, Ice. The men pushed the deserter to the ground, laying his head flat against the large rock.
He began, "In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, First of his Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm..."
"Donʼt look away," Gianna heard Jon mutter to Bran. "Father will know if you do."
"...I, Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, sentence you to die."
No one flinched as the large sword was brought down upon the manʼs head. Ned Stark was a merciful man, and per usual it was a quick and clean cut.
Gianna reached a comforting hand to Branʼs shoulder. "You did well," she murmured.
These things had never bothered her or Artemis much. She assumed Artemis was so used to hunting and the cold wilderness that nothing much bothered her anymore. Gianna on the other hand, had always known what it took to lead. She felt it in her blood. Sometimes these were hard truths that had to be faced. Itʼs the same reason she had insisted on being trained in weaponry with the boys and Artemis. One could never be too prepared.
She looked back at Bran. "Do you understand why your father did it?"
The young boy looked back at her with wide brown eyes. "Because he was a deserter?" he asked hesitantly.
Gianna persisted. "But do you understand why your father had to kill him?"
"Our way is the old way," the boy tried again.
Gianna nodded. "The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword."
Bran was silent for a long moment. Eventually he spoke again.
"Is it true he saw the whitewalkers?"
Artemis suddenly appeared behind him. "Donʼt be silly. The whitewalkers have been gone for thousands of years," she scoffed.
"So, he was lying?"
Gianna glared at her friend. "A mad man sees what he sees." —
The party began their ride back to Winterfell, but halfway home stopped at a large dead stag near the path. Confused at what could have killed the monstrous beast, the group paused to investigate.
"What killed it?" Jon asked. Theon replied, "Perhaps a mountain lion?"
"There are no mountain lions in these woods," Artemis retorted, and she was right. Laying nearby was the dead body of a huge giant of a wolf, surrounded by six tiny, very much alive, wolf pups.
Theon started at the sight of the beast. "Itʼs a freak!"
Lord Stark hopped off his horse to approach the monster. Gianna followed close behind him despite his disapproving look. She had a tendency of overstepping her boundaries.
"Itʼs a direwolf," Lord Stark said calmly though he was clearly rattled. "There are no direwolves South of the Wall," said Robb.
"Now there are six," Gianna retorted.
"Where will they go," asked Bran. "Their mother is dead."
"They donʼt belong down here," said Theon. "Better a quick death. They wonʼt last long without their mother."
Lord Stark nodded solemnly.
"Give it here," Theon ordered Bran.
The older boy drew his dagger and went to rip the wolf pup from Branʼs arms.
Bran yelled, "No!" Gianna quickly stepping between them.
"Put away your blade," Robb ordered seeing the distress on the girlʼs face. Gianna looked up at him gratefully.
"I take orders from your father, not you."
Bran and Gianna turned their pleading eyes to Lord Stark, and finally after several long moments, he acquiesced.
Gianna handed the pups to the men to carry home for the five Stark children to keep as pets, secretly keeping the smallest, weakest runt for herself.
Robb watched the girl as she gently stroked the small, whimpering creature. She was so gentle and so wise. It never ceased to surprise him. She had always been that way. Even when they were young.
"Keep up, Robbie," the little girl yelled behind her. The two were racing Artemis, Jon and Theon through the trees and dirt paths of the Godswood that surrounded Winterfell. Robb sprinted to catch up, already out of breath. He went to wipe the sweat from his brow. Had he not looked up at that exact moment, he wouldʼve crashed right into Gianna who had stopped running and was currently huddled over something on the forest floor.
"What is it?"
Gianna held her hands up so he could see the tiny baby raven. Its wing was broken, and it was clearly panicking. Moments later Theon caught up to the duo. Robb could hear Artemis and Jon not far behind.
"Give up?" the young ward asked mockingly before noticing the small bird. "Ugh, leave that thing alone. Itʼs a better mercy to let it die."
Gianna glared at the boy.
"If you want to know what a man is like Theon, take a good look at how he treats his inferiors, not his equals. Even the smallest of creatures deserves our respect."
Robb snapped out of his reverie. He didnʼt know when his feelings for the girl had changed from brotherly to something much less so, but they definitely had.
His attention was redirected however by Artemis's shouting.
"Race you guys back to the castle!"
Robb shook his head and smiled, quickly kicking his horse into a gallop.