Authors Note: I haven't read the books but I have heard a lot about them. Some things sound really interesting to me, so I'll be throwing them in but overall this will follow the show canon. And the ages for this story are-
Theon: 12 Robb and Jon: 11 Sansa: 9 Minisa (OC):8 Arya:6 Bran:4 Rickon:0
Chapter One
The world had never been particularly kind to dreamers. Perhaps if she had been born to painters, or academics, or even farmers. Then maybe. But in Minisa's world. There was no such place.
But just because there is no place for something, doesn't mean it ceases to exist.
Minisa Stark was the third-born child and second daughter to Lord Eddard Stark and his lady wife, Catelyn Tully. Younger sister to Robb and Sansa Stark. Older sister to Arya, Bran, and Rickon Stark. Half-sister to Jon Snow.
Her arrival had been a sharp contrast to the type of person she would be.
Many worried when they heard of Lady Catelyn's pregnancy, for it had not been long since she had given birth to the healthy babe Sansa Stark. And such pregnancies often ended in tragedy. Especially ones when the child came a month earlier than it was supposed to.
The Tully woman had already labored two long days and nights when the Maester pulled Eddard to the side and told him that she would not see another sunrise.
He broke the news to his lady wife, holding her as she loudly wept tears of fear. Then she stopped, reaching up pale hands to wipe his own cheeks. He marveled at how, even in times such as these, she managed to be so strong.
Catelyn told him to bring the kids in. If she was going to go, she would say goodbye to her children first. And so he gathered Robb and Sansa. Rustled them from their rest and gently guided their sleepy forms to the birthing chamber.
Robb was a babe of only three and Sansa was still a bundle. Robb cuddled into his mother's side, going back to sleep instantly, and Eddard placed Sansa into her arms. She just laid there and held them close to her, humming and kissing them.
Every once in a while a labor pain would come and Ned would offer to take Sansa, but Catelyn just waved him away.
After a while he gave up and contented himself to just stand against the wall, watching the three of them. Trying to commit the picture to memory, for it would be the last time he had the privilege of such sight.
Eventually, Catelyn relented and Eddard summoned someone to take the kids back to their chambers. He wanted to be here for his lady wife in her last moments.
And as the sun seemed to creep closer and closer to the skyline, Eddard prepared himself for another visit from The Stranger (who, at this point is more familiar than anyone or anything Eddard knows).
But alas, Catelyn had survived yet another labor. Minisa Stark was born. Alive. Healthy.
In the North, there's an area of the sky that meets the snow. It's a blue so pale that it blends into the grey snows seamlessly. It is said that the gods themselves had used this piece of sky to craft her eyes.
And when Catelyn looked into those eyes, she knew it had all been worth it.
Minisa and Sansa sat in the cold, pitch-dark closet, bodies pressed as close to the corner as allowed and hands clasped tightly together. Footsteps could scarcely be heard from the other side of the door. Light and slow, as if not trying to be heard, but clearly with not enough experience to be completely silent.
She pressed her free hand over her mouth tightly and tried to make her breathing as quiet as possible. The air around her was full of nerves. Nerves and cobwebs.
The room went silent and the girls could make out nothing. Minisa shot her older sister a questioning look, to which the other girl just replied with a hush gesture. Perhaps he had left? Or maybe he ha—
"Aha!"
Minisa squealed as the door flung over, revealing a smiling Bran.
"I win. Again!"
Minisa held her hands up in surrender.
"Correct, you've won at hide-and-seek. But can you beat me at racing?!"
With a quick swipe to his legs, Bran went tumbling and Minisa shot past his body. She could hear his yelling in the winds that she raced through but she paid him no mind.
At 11, Robb and Jon had become more into training with swords and deemed themselves too old to play such games, leaving her and Sansa with no choice but to look to their little brother Bran (much to Minisa's pleasure).
Not to say that she hadn't enjoyed playing with her brother and Jon. She'd loved Robb with all her heart, but they often struggled to find common ground. If they had not been bound by blood, Minisa doubts he'd even like her at all.
And she didn't have much of a connection with Jon. Not because he was a bastard like her mother said, but because he was so sullen and dower.
The siblings she was closest with would be Bran and Sansa. They were both adventurous spirits like her, always eager for stories and games and getting lost in their mind. Bran livened up all their games. He treated it as if it were real life and matched their enthusiasm tenfold. He had been a great addition.
Minisa turned around to look behind her. She had put much distance between herself and her playmates. Sure she had outrun them, she let out a triumphant laugh. But in looking backward, she had missed what lay ahead.
Minisa crashed full speed into another body and fell down. The person then leaned over her, their long red curls framing a stern expression.
"Hello, mother" The eight-year-old smiled.
Catelyn's expression softened at the sight of her daughter. Dreamy-eyed and full of spirit.
Minisa was a fair girl. While most of the Stark siblings favored one parent or another, Minisa was a complete mix of both. A Long but sharp face, lips that always seemed puckered, and a jaw that was sharp as Ice. Her hair, whilst red upon birth, had darkened over the years and now was a perfect red-brown color. The tresses were now trapped under a crown of white and grey flowers.
"And what might you be doing?" Catelyn asked, straightening up to hold out her hand.
Minisa took her mother's hand, jumping up.
"Me and Sansa were playing with Bran" Minisa explained, wiping the leaves off her dress, "We were hiding from him but then he found us, so I had to run away before he could catch me."
"Ah" Catelyn mused, "It all makes sense now."
Minisa looked around her, making sure no one was listening before leaning closer. "I've been trying to keep Bran away from climbing also, just like you asked me".
Catelyn smiled fully then, "Oh, my sweet girl. What would I do without you?"
Minisa beamed at the compliment, her smile so much like her mother's.
"Where were you going, Mother?" the little girl asked.
"Just to see Maester Lewyn. Your little brother or sister here," she gestured to her protruding stomach, "has been giving me some trouble"
"Trouble? Want me to talk to 'em for you?" Minisa asked, also gesturing toward her mother's stomach.
"I don't think that'll be necessary sweetling," Catelyn laughs. "Well, I'll let you go on your way then".
The little girl just nods, taking off running again.
Minisa had hoped to find her older sister and continue playing their games, or perhaps they could sneak a tray of lemon cakes with Jeyne and find a corner to gossip in. Or spend hours inside the library, getting lost in the various history books and poems splayed out on the table in front of them. Or they could collect flowers from the woods! The possibilities were always endless for the two of them.
While Sansa's hair redder, legs longer, and face softer, the two clearly favored one another. And apart from the brief time after Sansa's birthday and before Minisa's, the two of them were of the same age.
They shared gowns and friends, wore the same hairstyles, and had even thought themselves twins for the first couple years of their lives. In fact, they still told anyone not familiar with them that they were twins.
Yet, it wasn't her older sister that Minisa finds herself.
The training yard, watching the boys spar, is where Minisa currently finds herself. Well, she's not really in the training yard. And she's not really watching them.
Minisa sits on the ground, braiding flowers into her little sister's hair and rattling off some story she'd read with Sansa.
Minisa is of course changing some parts, adding in her own twists and omitting some events. But the story she'd read was somewhat plain and could do with some sprucing up.
Minisa isn't dumb. She is aware that Arya isn't listening to a word she's saying. That the dark-haired would much rather be out there, training with bows or swords.
But she knows that Arya is also enjoying this as much as Minisa herself. She normally doesn't like getting her hair done— especially with flowers, which she deems "stupid" for some reason— but she's different with Minisa. She sits quietly, relaxing into her touch and nodding along to her stories.
It's something that only the two of them share. And with Minisa being so soft, so in-the-sky, and Arya being so wild, so grounded, they don't share that many things.
"The dress was made completely out of real fish scales. It gleamed of blue and gray and green... All of the knights fought amongst themselves for her favor–"
Minisa pauses as Arya lets out an excited cheer. She looks in the direction she knows holds Arya's focus.
Theon and Robb hold blunted swords in the middle of the space, Jon a few yards off. They're not actually training so Ser Rodrik is absent. Robb holds his sword over Theon's frame. But judging by the light smirk on the dark-haired boy's face, it's all in good fun.
Robb reaches out a hand to the other boy, helping him to his feet.
Suddenly, the image before Minisa morphs. All of the guys are in full armor, laden with symbols— Robb a direwolf, Theon a kraken, and Jon… a blue winter rose?—. Their swords were real and gleamed under the sun. An arena surrounds them and people from all over cheer them on.
An idea formed in her head.
Minisa's feet carry her over to them and Arya follows closely behind. They all greet her but Minisa pays them no mind. It's nothing new. When Minisa gets something in her head she often blocks out anything else.
Minisa reached out, taking the crown of flowers from her own head. "-But she chose to grant this honor to the brave, Kraken Knight."
With that, she places the crown on top of Theon's head. It's perfect, she thinks. The gray and white complement his black hair and match his gray linens.
The Iron Islander smirks even harder at that and Minisa smiles in return. That is until Theon catches an elbow to the ribs from Robb and a glare from Jon (both of which go unknownst to Minisa).
"I'm the one who won, sister. Certainly, I should be crowned." Robb teases.
"Winning is its own word." Minisa shrugs.
She then grabs a protesting Arya (who had just been about to shoot someone's bow-and-arrow) and skips away. No goodbye.
The boys simply return to their training. It's Jon's turn against Robb.
Dinner is a lively and lovely affair, as is usual. Her father sits at the head of the table, her mother on his right, and Robb on his left. On her mother's side are the girls and on Robb's side are Bran, Theon, and (to her mother's annoyance) Jon.
Catelyn questions her children about their day, smiling contently as they go on. Ned asks Jon about his day, as he always does because in an effort to include him. Minisa makes sure to listen and follow along with everyone's stories (she made her parents a promise that she'd try to be more engaged in what's going on around her) but soon enough everyone breaks into their own conversations and Minisa retreats into her mind.
Elsewhere mentally, she whispers exchanged between her sisters and the glances her eldest one throws her way.
Immediately after dinner's been had, Sansa grabs her hand and guided her to her chambers. Minisa allows her without question or struggle.
The two spent just as much time in each other's chambers as they did their own. It wasn't uncommon for them to sleep in the same bed. So Minisa didn't find Sansa's actions out of place.
As soon as they got to the older Stark sister's room she closed the door, huddling them onto the bed with wide eyes.
"So, is it true?" Sansa asked.
"Is what true?"
"That you fancy," Sansa cupped her hands over her mouth, whispering low, " Theon ."
Theon? The Stark girl blinked in confusion. Theon was her father's ward. She was very fond of him. Theon is charismatic and fun and lively and … grand. She quite likes the way he spins tales of the ocean and the salt god. And he is admittedly handsome.
But she'd never thought of him in that light. She hadn't really thought of anyone like that. Sure, she had blushed once or twice when Jory had smiled at her but that was it.
"What? Why would you say that?"
"Arya told me that you gave him your favor after a sparring match. A sparring match he lost at."
Minisa had just been going along with the fantasies in her mind from her story. Did her actions mean something to everyone else?
"What's wrong with that?" Minisa asked worriedly.
"Nothing," Sansa answered automatically, taking her sister's hand in her own. "It's just suspicious because it's Theon. You know?"
Minisa shook her head no. She didn't know.
"Well, no one would look too much into it if you gave it to someone else. But you've gifted him a lot of gifts."
"No, I haven't!"
"You gave him a specially sewed cloth just last week ( she had wanted to try something different than the usual wolves she sewed and squids were cool ), days before that you snuck him a whole tray of honeyed bread and milk from the kitchens ( his father hadn't sent him another letter in months and he seemed down ) and–"
"I was just being nice, sister. I don't fancy him. We're… friends" The word sounded weird rolling off her tongue. "Friends" is what she and Sansa were to Jeyne, or what Robb was to Theon. It didn't feel like an accurate way to describe them, but it certainly felt closer than what Sansa was suggesting.
"Okay," Sansa relented, letting it go. "If you say you don't fancy him, then you don't fancy him. I just found it intriguing."
"I suppose it would be." Minisa shrugged, climbing under the covers. "But if I did fancy someone, you'd be the first person I'd tell"
Sansa shot her a smile, climbing under the covers. The older Stark started to hum and within no time, both girls found themselves asleep.