Lyarra Snow was known for
She was the one stain on Eddard Stark's honor, as his bastard daughter
She had the Stark look, unlike most of her trueborn siblings
She had a soulmark
Her stepmother, Lady Catelyn, hated her for all three reasons. Lady Catelyn had been intended for her Uncle Brandon, a known rake. Her Uncle likely would have always had a mistress of some kind and a plethora of illegitimate children in his home. After her Uncle's death, Lady Catelyn married her father, the Honorable Eddard Stark. A man well known for his respect and distinction. For him to come home from a war with a bastard daughter, the woman had not taken it well. It did not matter that she was a girl or conceived before their wedding. Lady Catelyn hated her all the same.
When the various Lords and servants commented on her Stark looks, which her brothers all lacked, Lady Catelyn came to dislike her even more.
The soulmark had pushed that hatred over the edge. Soulmarks were rare, like maybe 2 marks every generation. The Seven said that soulmarks were gifts to the devout. The Old Gods believed that soulmarks were given to those with a responsibility to the world.
She didn't care why she had the mark, she just loved it. The mark took up her whole left arm.
The bottom layer was a bright blue arrow that started at her armpit, wrapped around the back of her bicep, and then ran down her forearm before forming an arrow on the back of her hand.
The next layer was a dragon. Not the kind in the Targaryen history books, but the lesser know dragons that were extinct in the Fire Nation. Its head sat on her upper arm, facing outward. Its body wrapped around her arm, over top of the blue arrow, with its tail stopping at her wrist.
The next thing on her arm was a face of makeup. A white face with bold black eyeliner, bright red eye shadow that wrapped around the head, and defined eyebrows. A gold fan covered the bottom half of its face. It sat above her elbow but below the dragon's head.
Her inner bicep contained a straight sword made of a darker metal than was typical. The handle was black and gold. A steel boomerang sat over the sword, with two holes on one side.
Sitting in the middle of her upper forearm, on top of the blue line but between the wrapped dragon, sat an odd creature. It had taken her years to identify, but she later found out it was a badgermole. The creature was not very big, maybe half the size of her palm, but extremely detailed.
Her palm held a symbol. A blue circle with three wavy lines and three curling waves. It was the simplest part of her soulmark, but the one that she saw every day without a doubt.
The inner part of the forearm had a sitting white wolf, with red eyes. Despite there being no size comparison by the wolf, she knew it was a direwolf. It took up her entire inner forearm. It was her mark, Ghost's arrival weeks ago confirmed it for her.
It was a large mark, the largest in recorded history at the Citadel. Maester Luwin documented the mark regularly, as it developed as she grew. At least once a week, he'd look over the mark trying to find new additions. The mark had started as smudged colors, like all soulmate marks, but cleared up as she aged.
She'd done her research on her mark, as had Maester Luwin. Most of the marks aspects came from the four nations to the west. Maester Luwin had taught her the Earth Kingdom Hanzi, Fire Nation Kanji, Water Tribe Syllabics, and the Air Nations Abugida writing in preparation. Akada was the shared language of the four nations, but each had its own individual language. Maester Luwin, by some miracle, had learned Akada and was able to teach her. He was unable to teach her the individual languages of the four nations. Emdari in the Earth Kindom, Icabi in the Water Tribes with slightly different dialects for the Northern and Southern Tribes, Aroshi in the Air Nation, and Ukati in the Fire Nation. She desired to learn them all.
None of her siblings bore marks. Lady Catelyn hated this. Her father disliked her mark. He especially disliked the dragon that wrapped around the mark. She understood why, anyone would. But still, his lack of enthusiasm around her mark always made her a little sad. It also likely affected his attention to her. Which gave Lady Catelyn far more latitude in her life than she would have liked. The Septa despised her, and Lady Stark gave certain orders that made her life more difficult than necessary.
Still, she knew her father loved her, or at least, she thought he loved her. Actions speak louder than words, and his last action with her did not feel loving.
"Lyarra," Her father gestures to the seat before the desk. "Take a seat."
She gives a small curtsy. "Lord Stark."
Her father gives her a small smile. It looked forced. "It has come to my attention that your future needs to be discussed. I know you have no desire to join the faith as a Septa or Silent Sister." Lady Stark's face screws up for a second before smoothing out. The Septa looks upset at the same thought. "I always hoped that you would one day find a place for yourself. However, Lord Bolton has sent a letter, and given a suggestion. His son, Ramsay Snow, is three years older than you. He has offered a match."
Her face falls. "Ramsay Snow, who visited a few years ago."
"The same."
"There are rumors about him." Her eyes are fixed on Lord Stark's. She can't believe what she's hearing. You never tried to marry someone with a soulmark before they met their soulmates. Often soulmates married each other.
"Rumors don't mean anything." Lady Stark purses her lips.
"You don't remember what he did when he was here?" Her eyes are still fixed on Lord Stark's.
He tears his gaze away from her. "He was a child then, he's older now."
"He beat one of the servant's sons! He's not fit to be a husband!"
"You should not have gotten involved in that fight. Boys fight, you know this." Her Father's gaze is stern, she didn't care.
"That wasn't a spat or even a fight between boys. Ramsey had half a decade on the child. He was in the fetal position!"
"Lyarra!" Lord Stark slams his hand down on the desk. "I've agreed to the marriage. Lord Bolton is coming to collect you in two moons' time."
She stares at him. "There's no discussion. I get no say in this?"
"It's for the best."
"Maybe for you and your wife. She'll be pleased when Lord Bolton writes a letter, informing you of my accident. Or maybe Ramsey won't even make it look like an accident. Maybe he'll just beat me to death because he can. He'll own me by then."
"Lyarra!"
"Do you hate me? I used to think that you loved me, but I think you wish I was never born. If you loved me, you wouldn't be doing this."
"Lyarra! That is enough! You will marry-" He sputters. "Where are you going?"
I had gotten up and gone to the door. I didn't answer, just slammed the heavy door open and stormed down the hall.
The Septa is screeching at her, condemning her. Lady Stark is yelling at Lord Stark, who is demanding she comes back.
She doesn't listen.
Hours later, she's in her room. It's as cold as ever, but she doesn't care. She's still too furious. Robb had come to the door to try to talk to her. He said it was a fair match, that she'd be happy. That boys grow out of certain habits.
She knew better. There was something wrong with Ramsey: her family didn't see it. Or maybe that didn't care. Lord Stark may say he loves her, and Robb says it too, but neither was very close to her. No one was very close to her.
The sun had set and the moon was high in the sky when she decided what to do. She did not have much coin, and only a dagger from her Uncle for protection, but she would be leaving the North.
She takes only the things she needs. A few changes of clothing, her thickest fur blanket, her meager coin, and the few heirlooms left by her mother.
The guards don't pay much attention to her as she goes to the kennels. They never do. Ghost is wide awake and waiting for her. Her wolf always knew what to do.
She doesn't leave through the front gates. She goes to one of the secret entrances of Winterfell. The ones only the Starks of Winterfell know about.
She doesn't look back as she runs off into the night.