At the base of the Weirwood in Winterfell there is a pool of water as dark as the night sky whose surface is always still and reflects all with supernatural clarity. It is ancient, and according to the lore marks the exact spot where the Long Night ended. And yet, to the Starks over the ages, it is a place of reflection, of truth and mystery... and of ritual. To this pool every Stark child was taken through the ages, to gaze into the pool and to receive whatever gifts the old gods would choose to bestow on them. At times signs of the natural talents, at times signs of what may come.

Brandon Stark had an axe, notched and hollowed in such a way as swinging it in the air made it howl like an angry wolf.

Eddard Stark's gift was, to some eyes, a simple and underwhelming one. And yet, the quiet wolf rarely spoke of what was written in the book he gained, other than, his eyes looking into his fathers with a weight far beyond his years, saying that there was a promise and a warning writ inside.

Lyanna Stark was granted two gifts. A bow of pale moonlight and a spear fashioned from winter roses, both of which were suitable to use from horseback.

And to the end of his days and beyond, Benjen Stark wore a horn of ice on his belt.

And yet, in the fashion of many gifts, these were not remarked on in the north, even as some sought out the meaning to their riddles, as the pack went their separate ways. Eyes and mind turned southwards, Rickard dispersed the pack, an action that would in time bear bitter fruit. But time passed, as it was wont to do, and the plans of gods and men alike played out.

And as time passed, a fat stag made his way north, lions dragged in his wake, to meet the one he would call brother.

Myrcella Baratheon

She smiled, as she watched her new friend weave. To be sure, the speed at which she worked, and how the threads colored themselves were rather unnatural, as Sansa worked on a tapestry. Dozens of scenes unfolded before their eyes, mother looking on with wide eyes and pale lips, even as parts of the scenes seemed to be familiar to her. "What are you weaving Sansa?" After all, she was curious.

The reply, as blue eyes looked into her own, the hair seeming to, as the light caught it, to be the color of spilled blood, not mere Tully red. "A gift for you and your mother princess. Why, when Lady Joanna heard you were to be visiting, she was ever so excited and asked me to weave you a tapestry, though I usually don't leave them outside. It just seems... messy." The other girls nose crinkled, as if she was saying something simple and straightforward that was distasteful, even as she wondered what the redhead meant by outside?

It was then of course, that they were interrupted by mother, whose voice was trembling and face pale. "My mother is dead girl." There was venom in mothers voice, and fear, and so she flinched back, as mother was likely angry. But Sansa merely looked at mother, as Lady Stark sighed and seemed to be resigned.

"Yes?" From how Sansa said it, confused and just a touch baffled... either she was more versed in masks than she thought, or her friend was touched, even as understanding blossomed in her eyes, a hand reaching into a pocket and taking out a simple ring of keys. "Silly me, I should have asked if you would have wanted to visit."

Even as she said that (threat?) in good cheer, there was the sensation of the world moving sideways, or perhaps coming into focus, whispers scratching at the edges of their perception as the life fled from Sansa Stark, leaving a pretty doll able to move and talk in that chair. There was a door forming, mist wrapping (not mist, not really, but she did not want to see, to know), even as Lady Stark sighed and spoke. "Sansa, what did your father and I ask you?"

It was spoken in a long suffering tone, but not a surprised or upset one, even as mother paled (water and blood was appearing on her dress, muddy finger prints on her fine dress), as the doll cocked her head, lifeless and far too perfect to be human. "Not to open the doors to the dead around the southerners?" There was confusion on her face, even as Lady Stark raised an eyebrow in a very impressive manner that asked 'and what do you think you are doing now young lady?' without the need to say a word!

Understanding, and embarrassment bloom on the dolls face, as the keys vanish and the world never changed, with nothing to mark its passing save for her mothers terror.

Tommen Baratheon

He was glad to have come to the north, and he thinks he understands why his father so values Lord Stark, if he is like Bran and Rickton. To be sure, his new friends had great talents and they got up to boyish mischief, such as they could, together. To be sure, racing with Bran along the branches of the trees on invisible paths was exciting, but even greater in many ways? What he would give to be able to speak to animals like Rickton! After all, then he would be able to care for them better, and hide them from Joff.

And this was really the best part of all of this. Joff would not enter into the Gods Wood, the tree branches moving to block his way. Why, he could swear that they even lifted him up and threw him back once! And so, with freedom in his step, he roamed the woods and talked to beasts and plants alongside his friends and simply was a young boy experiencing wonders.

To be sure, he was forbidden from approaching a set of doors nestled in the roots of a tree, but then, according to his friends, that was the domain of their sister Sansa, and so would be boring.