I don't own A Song of Ice and Fire books and Game of Thrones show, except for my OCs and part of the story. English is my second (foreign) language, Spanish is my first. Sorry for the typos or for not describing very well certain scenes. I will accept any constructive correction you give me.

I don't bother you anymore. Enjoy!

Chapter 2

Bran failed again to hit the target with his bow and arrow, sighing in frustration.

Jon got close to him putting his hands on Bran's shoulders. "Go on. Father is watching." He whispered. Robb, Bran, Jon, and I looked at the balcony. Eddard and Catelyn Stark, my new parents, were given to Bran encouraging smiles. "And mother too." Jon said lastly. Bran looked at the target, returning to the same stance with his bow and arrow locked on the target.

Bran failed again, and again… and again, and we continued to encourage him to try again and correct his stance. One of the arrows he shot, flew over the target and passed a fence. Robb, Jon, and little Rickon began to laugh at him because of his bad accuracy; as for Bran, he sighed getting even more frustrated.

"And which one of you was a marksman at six?" father scolding at the boys. I raised my hand with doubt, and my father rolled his eyes. "You don't count, Lylian." Father said seriously at me, and I could hear my bothers chuckled. I shot at them a killing look, and immediately they stopped. Also, I could see my father's lips curving slightly like he was trying not to laugh too. Then he looked again at Bran. "Keep practicing, Bran."

I could understand why his comment and the reaction of my brothers. I am one of the best archers in Winterfell, even if I still don't remember my life before the loss of my memory. I noticed this when one day that Bran was practicing with my brothers, it gives me curiosity, and I join them. I pleaded to my brothers to teach me how to use the bow, and moments after their explanation, it became natural for me to use the weapon. Then, my father and brothers explained to me the quality I have with the bow.

Bran returned to his position to shoot. I could see how frustrated he was for not hitting yet the target, or at least around the bulls-eye.

"Don't think too much, Bran." Advice Jon to our little brother. Bran pulled the string of his bow again, ready to shoot.

"Relax your bow arm." Robb advice to Bran.

"I know you can do it, little brother" I encouraged Bran.

Just at the moment when my little brother was about to release the arrow, another arrow got to the bulls-eye of the target. Everyone looked who do that and, to our surprise, it was Arya smiling with a bow in her hands, she made a courtesy as a way to mocking his brother. All of us roared in laughter, including my parents, when Bran started to pursue Arya.

"She's wild as you or more." Robb jested.

"That's why I get along with her." I smiled following his game.

I started to help Jon on collecting and arranging the arrows while we were still laughing for what happened a few moments ago. Then I felt someone watching in our direction, I looked where I sensed that, and found mother watching at Jon with hate, her eyes turned to me, and she was scolding me silently. I could understand why she hates him, it is not easy to raise a boy who isn't your son but another woman's son, born by your husband's cheating during your marriage. But one thing is her, and another is me. I love Jon as another brother, like the rest of my youngest brothers.

The relationship I have with Jon is special. We are similar in our looks, and we have certain things in common. It is almost like we were twins, we are always together, and we can express ourselves without words. The only difference we have is our age, I'm one year older than him.

"I don't care mother's opinion about me being with you, or she hates you. You are my brother, not my father's bastard, or my half-brother. I love you like the rest of our brothers." I whispered, and Jon gave me those strange smiles that only gives for Arya and me.

Both of us forget about that uncomfortable situation, and we keep collecting the arrows. Then I saw Theon Greyjoy, one of our father's wards, approaching to us.

"We have to get prepared for a ride. There's a deserter. Bran is coming with us." Theon announced. At that moment I remembered what happens to deserters and traitors. I know that I needed to look, but I don't want to see people being killed, I'm not ready.

"You have to go." The mysterious voice said in my head.

"I'm not ready to look a horrible death. I know the soon is better, but I don't want to right now." I responded.

"As you wish."

Then I remembered that Bran was still very young to experience that. He was six, soon-to-be seven. I look at my brothers concerned, and they shrugged their shoulders, understanding my concern.

"Bran is too young for that!" I expressed to Theon.

"Not too young for your father. Orders are orders." Theon shrugged his shoulders.

"He is not going to be young forever, and this is part of the story…" Spoke again the voice in my head.

"But still... he is too young." I expressed concerned.

"Sister, you have to remember that Winter is Coming." Robb said. "Bran has to be prepared, at some point this was going to happen."

I watch the men, including my brothers, to go to the stables to saddle their horses. Moments later, the men were already mounted in their respective horses.

"Are you coming with us, Lady Lylian?" asked Theon with a smile on his face while he was on his horse.

"No, I will stay." My answer made several eyes lock over me, and Theon Greyjoy was looking at me like he didn't know me. "It's not something to enjoy how someone is killed. Deserter, traitor or innocent. Death is not something to admire or a game." I explain seriously to him.

"Wise words my daughter." I heard father's voice on my back. I looked at him while I was thinking of the questions I will going to make him about me. "We talk when I return." He answered my silent questions before giving the order to leave.

It seems that the old Lylian Stark went with his father to watch executions…

I saw the men left through the castle gates, taking Bran with them in a pony. I left the yard and decided to help Arya with her needlework classes, or simply ease her torture with Septa Mordane. Yeah… Arya and I beyond to be sisters, she was my best friend and partner-in-crime, I loved her so much. Both of us were similar physically and in personality, that's why we get along.

Two months had passed, and I got adapted quickly to this world, but still, I hate this medieval world. I hate the lack of hygiene in general, it's really awful and uncomfortable at the moment of doing your human necessities, and when your period come; I hate using uncomfortable dresses, and using under them that torture instrument called corset, that fucking 'beauty' instrument take almost all the air from my lungs; I hate the lack of sun in this place, I was so getting used to going to the beach and get a tan, now everything is cold, rainy and/or snowy; I hate receiving classes from Septa Mordane on how to be a lady, in translation: how to be a delicate (weak), traditional and 'naïve' woman, entertain people, create babies, and hold a house.

However, there are several things I love from this world: my new family, riding a horse, using a bow, swords, and knowing better this world that I read from a book and watch the show. Yes, I could remember several things from this world based on what I read or watched, but some of them are still confusing in my head or are blurry, and they make it clearer just at the moment when something is happening, like right now with the deserter.

I'm going to receive a wolf… no, a direwolf…

"Yes, that's right. That's another reason why I told you to go." Answered the voice.

Yeah… that strange voice in my head has been helping me through this new life, always telling me what to do. I sound like a crazy person, but I have thanked it for helping me.

As I was saying, from this world, I love my family. My new family has been a great help since I woke up. Also, I noticed that I have a special bond with this northern family, I feel that I belong here with them, and this feeling made me adapt quickly to this place.

The second thing I love is doing masculine activities. I love riding a horse, go hunting with father, Jon, Robb, and the rest of father's men; also, using a bow and a sword. Of course, I don't do these activities wearing a dress, I use a long shirt with a jerkin on it, some pants and boots, and for those freaking cold days, a thick coat and leather gloves.

My mother hates when I do this. According to her, I should do more ladylike activities and plan my future wedding. I'm not that type of woman… I mean, yes, I like the idea of getting married someday, but it has to be with someone who respects me and accepts me as the way I am. Sometimes I do some of those womanly activities, such as singing, drawing (of course), and needlework. Surprisingly, I'm really good at those activities, but still, I prefer doing exciting activities, do masculine activities.

"I hate this Lily." Arya expressed exasperated because her stitches crooked again.

"I know you hate it Ary, but no one knows when this can be useful." I consoled her while I was still doing my needlework.

"Why I can't be good like you? Why I can't be good as Sansa?" She asked me upset. I stopped what I was doing and look over Septa. She was admiring Sansa's work. Finally, I looked at my sister.

"Not everybody is the same, Ary." I explained to her. "Tell me. What is my best quality?"

"Drawing, archery, and swords." Arya answered, and I nodded.

"Well, you are good at something too." Arya looked at me with curiosity. "You are good as me on archery, you demonstrate that today with Bran." I smiled at her. Arya chuckled for a moment, but her face turns sad again.

"But I have only that."

"You will find other talents through the time, sister. Not all the qualities appear at the moment you want. Trust what I'm saying." I grab one of her hands and squeeze it in assurance. "For now, be yourself and be patient with these things." Pointing at our needlework. "You will see on the road, what other qualities you have." I smiled at her, and she did the same. "One day you will disobey completely to Septa and mother, as I did." I wink one of my eyes, and Arya laughed.

"Arya, Arya…" The voice of Septa distracted us, and my sister stopped laughing. The old woman observed Arya's needlework, and she looked disappointed. "You crooked again the stitches. You will never learn…"

"Let her be Septa, she's still learning…" I was explaining, but Septa interrupted me.

"I'm sorry Lady Lylian, but I instructed her this since Arya was six, just like you, and still she doesn't learn. Arya has the hands of a blacksmith." Septa sniffed to my sister. I could see Arya looking angry at her.

"I know Septa. Maybe my sister is a slow learner in these things, but she's still learning…" And again, Septa interrupted me.

"She has nine years old, soon-to-be ten. Soon she will be a woman, and she needs to act like one…" I lowered my face and sighed. I'm tired of this shit with Arya. I stand up and leave my needlework on the place I sat. "Where are you going, young lady?" Septa asked.

"I'm tired of being here. May I be excused?" I said angrily, making a huge effort to remember my courtesies in front of her.

"You may not. You have not finished your work." Septa replied angrily.

"I'm leaving anyway." I answered sharply. "Come, we are going to take a little break." I gesture to my sister to follow me, but she was in shock for the attitude I was taking.

"Your lady mother will get furious…"

"I don't care" I responded bitterly. "Come on, Arya." I insisted on her.

Arya left her needlework, and both got out of the room where we were. Once outside, I put one of my hands on her shoulder. "What do you think if we practice a little bit with the bow?" Arya's eyes bright excited, and she nodded.

When we got to the practice field, all men were returning to the castle. Then I noticed the puppies that got Bran, Robb and Jon's arms, they may have days to be born.

The direwolves… there are seven pups…

Once my brothers dismounted of their horses, all of us went to the kitchen. Minutes later arrived Sansa and Rickon. We reunited all the pups in one place of the kitchen, while we were preparing their food.

They were seven direwolves. Two black pups as night, a female and a male. I fell in love for the female one; a male white pup like snow, which belongs to Jon, and it was the only pup with its eyes open; a male smoke grey pup, which was from Robb's; two female grey pups; a male silvery grey pup, which was from Bran's.

After feeding them, Arya and Sansa choose their direwolves. Rickon was scared of them, but we keep encouraging him to pick the last direwolf, the black male one. While we were picking names for them, we watched them. All the pups were sleeping together, however, Jon's and my direwolf decided to sleep together but far away from the rest.

Just like Jon and me…

"Those direwolves have a bond to each one of you. Meaning that each direwolf it's like the owner." Answer the voice in my head. Mentally I nodded in comprehension.

I need to think of a name for my direwolf…