The snow fell gently over Winterfell, blanketing the stone courtyards in icy stillness. Violet Snow stood at the edge of the Godswood, her breath visible in the frigid air. She tightened her grip on the wooden practice sword in her hand, her fingers stiff from the cold. Jon, her twin brother, sparred across from her, his dark hair clinging to his sweat-dappled forehead.
"Stay on your toes, Violet," Jon grunted, circling her. "You can't expect anyone to go easy on you just because you're—"
"Smaller? Prettier? A girl?" she interrupted, her violet-colored eyes—unusual and piercing—fixed on him. "Finish that sentence, brother, and I'll make you regret it."
Jon smirked, lowering his sword for a fraction of a second, and Violet lunged. Her blade struck his with a sharp clang, surprising him enough to make him step back.
"Better," Jon admitted, panting as he lowered his guard. "But you're still too slow."
Before she could retort, Robb's laughter echoed from the courtyard. Violet turned to see her half-brother lounging near the entrance with Theon Greyjoy, who was already making some jest at her expense.
"Don't let them distract you," Jon said quietly, stepping closer.
Violet straightened and rolled her shoulders. She hated being seen as less, even here in her own home. For years, she'd felt like a shadow—an echo of Jon, the other bastard of Winterfell, with no place in the Stark family's grand tapestry. Her name had always been spoken with a note of curiosity or pity.
"Do you ever wonder…" she began, lowering her sword as she glanced back toward the towering walls of Winterfell, "why they keep us? Why we're here?"
Jon followed her gaze. "Father's honor," he said simply, but his voice carried doubt. "And because this is home. Whether or not anyone else agrees."
That word—home—made her chest tighten. Winterfell was all she had ever known, but it had never quite felt hers. She wasn't a Stark, no matter how much she longed for it. She wasn't even fully a Snow; she was simply Violet, the girl who didn't belong.
Later that evening, as the household gathered in the great hall for supper, Violet kept to the shadows, her usual spot. She observed the room—the roaring fires, the clinking of cups, the Stark children laughing at some joke Robb had made. Violet envied their ease, their right to belong.
She felt Jon's eyes on her from across the room. His quiet presence was her only anchor in a sea of uncertainty. But even he couldn't answer the questions that had haunted her for as long as she could remember:
Who was her mother? Why had her father brought her here alongside Jon? And why did she feel as though the truth would change everything?
As the feast carried on, Violet slipped out into the courtyard, seeking solace under the stars. The cold bit into her skin, but she welcomed it. She stared up at the night sky, wondering if her place lay beyond these walls—if she had a destiny she couldn't yet fathom.
A soft crunch of boots on snow startled her, and she turned to see Eddard Stark standing in the doorway, his face shadowed but his eyes warm.
"You shouldn't be out here alone, Violet," he said gently, his voice carrying both concern and something she couldn't quite name.
"I prefer the quiet," she replied, her tone respectful but guarded.
Ned approached her, placing a hand on her shoulder. "The world won't always be kind to you, Violet. But strength isn't just about swords and battles. It's about knowing who you are—and holding fast to that."
She looked up at him, her violet eyes searching his face. "But who am I, my lord?"
For a moment, she thought he might answer. But instead, he smiled faintly, his expression tinged with sadness. "You are my daughter," he said, though it felt like a half-truth.
As he turned and walked back inside, Violet remained in the cold, her thoughts swirling like the snow around her. Deep down, she knew her father's words were both a comfort and a shield.
But from what, she couldn't yet say.
The sun was barely peeking over the treetops when Jon roused Violet from her sleep. She groaned and buried her face deeper into her fur blanket.
"Get up," Jon whispered, tugging at the edge of the blanket. "We're going hunting."
"Hunting?" Violet mumbled, sitting up and squinting at him. "Since when do we hunt together?"
"Since today," Jon replied with a mischievous grin. "Robb's been bragging about how he'll bring back the biggest stag before winter. Let's beat him to it."
Violet rubbed her eyes and gave him a skeptical look. "You mean you'll beat him to it."
Jon shook his head. "We're a team, remember? Besides, you could use the practice."
That was enough to get her out of bed. Violet dressed quickly, donning her thickest cloak to stave off the morning chill. By the time she joined Jon in the courtyard, he had already prepared two horses and a pack filled with provisions.
"Let's not get caught," Violet muttered as she mounted her horse.
"Relax," Jon said, pulling his hood over his head. "Father's too busy with the household to notice. And besides, we'll be back by sundown."
The two rode out of Winterfell's gates, the crisp morning air biting at their cheeks. The forest stretched before them, vast and untouched. It wasn't long before they reached the edge of the Wolfswood, where the trees grew denser and the sounds of nature enveloped them.
"This way," Jon said, leading Violet down a narrow path. "There's a stream nearby. Animals like to gather there."
As they ventured deeper into the woods, Violet couldn't help but feel a sense of freedom she rarely experienced within Winterfell's walls. Here, surrounded by towering trees and the call of distant ravens, she didn't feel like a shadow. She felt alive.
"Did you hear that?" Jon whispered, pulling his horse to a stop.
Violet strained her ears and heard it too—the soft rustling of leaves, followed by a low, guttural growl. She tightened her grip on the reins, her heart pounding.
"Wolf?" she asked.
Jon shook his head, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. "No. Something bigger."
Before they could react, a massive boar charged out of the underbrush, its tusks gleaming in the dappled sunlight. Violet's horse reared, and she barely managed to stay in the saddle.
"Go around it!" Jon shouted, drawing his sword.
But Violet had no intention of fleeing. She dismounted swiftly, grabbing her bow and an arrow from her pack. As the boar charged at Jon, Violet took aim. Her hands trembled, but she steadied herself, breathing deeply.
The arrow flew true, striking the boar in its side. It let out a furious squeal and turned its attention to Violet.
"Run!" Jon yelled, but Violet held her ground.
Before the boar could reach her, a figure emerged from the trees, his movements swift and precise. He thrust a spear into the boar's neck, bringing the beast down in a spray of crimson.
Violet stared in shock as the young man stepped back, breathing heavily. He was tall and lean, with dark curls that framed a sharp jawline. His green eyes met hers, and he gave her a wry smile.
"You're welcome," he said, pulling his spear from the boar's carcass.
Violet blinked, her heart still racing. "I… I had it under control."
The boy laughed, a sound that was warm and disarming. "Clearly."
Jon approached, his sword still drawn. "Who are you?" he demanded, his tone wary.
The boy wiped the blood from his spear and extended a hand. "Lucan," he said. "I live in the village just beyond the woods. And you are?"
"Violet," she said before Jon could respond.
Lucan's eyes lingered on her for a moment, and Violet felt a strange heat rise to her cheeks.
"Well, Violet," Lucan said with a grin, "you've got a good aim. But next time, you might want to leave the boars to the professionals."
Jon stepped between them, his expression guarded. "We should head back."
Lucan raised an eyebrow. "Suit yourself. But if you ever need a guide through the woods, you know where to find me."
With that, he disappeared into the trees, leaving Violet and Jon alone with the fallen boar.
Jon turned to her, his eyes narrowing. "What was that about?"
"What?" Violet asked, feigning innocence as she retrieved her arrow.
Jon shook his head. "Just… don't get distracted, Violet. The woods aren't a place for daydreams."
But as they tied the boar to Jon's horse and began the trek back to Winterfell, Violet couldn't stop thinking about Lucan—his smile, his confidence, and the way he'd looked at her as though she were more than just a shadow.
For the first time in a long while, Violet felt like her own story was just beginning.
The trek back to Winterfell began in silence, save for the soft crunch of hooves in the snow and the creak of leather straps as they hauled the boar behind Jon's horse. Violet's thoughts were preoccupied with Lucan—the stranger who had stepped in so effortlessly, as if he belonged in their story.
Jon broke the quiet first. "You shouldn't trust him."
Violet glanced at him, her violet eyes narrowing. "Trust who?"
"Lucan," Jon said. "People don't wander the Wolfswood for no reason. He's hiding something."
"And what if he's just… friendly?" she countered.
Jon shook his head. "Friendly gets you killed out here. You know that."
Violet didn't answer, her pride bristling at Jon's protectiveness. But before their argument could escalate, a low growl reverberated through the trees.
Jon froze, his hand going to the hilt of his sword. "Did you hear that?"
Violet nodded, unslinging her bow. The growl came again, closer this time, and Violet realized it wasn't just one—it was several.
"Wolves," Jon whispered.
The first set of glowing eyes appeared through the underbrush, then another, and another. Five direwolves stepped into view, their gray and black coats blending with the shadows of the forest. Their teeth gleamed in the dim light, and their growls deepened.
"They're hunting us," Jon said, positioning himself between Violet and the wolves.
"Can we outrun them?" Violet asked, her voice steady despite the panic rising in her chest.
Jon shook his head. "Not with the boar slowing us down."
Before they could decide what to do, the largest wolf—a massive, scarred beast with one eye—lunged. Jon's sword flashed, and the wolf fell back with a yelp, but the others surged forward, encircling them.
"Violet, climb!" Jon shouted, pointing to a nearby tree.
She hesitated, her bow drawn, but Jon's tone left no room for argument. Violet scrambled up the nearest tree, her fingers numb from the cold as she found her footing on a thick branch.
From her perch, she watched as Jon fought off the wolves. His sword moved with practiced precision, but he was outnumbered. One of the wolves lunged at his side, and Jon barely managed to deflect it.
"Jon!" Violet cried, raising her bow. She loosed an arrow, striking one of the wolves in the flank. It snarled and turned its attention to her, but before it could leap, a figure emerged from the trees.
Lucan.
He moved with startling speed, his spear flashing as he drove back the wolves. His movements were fluid and deliberate, and his presence shifted the balance of the fight.
"Get out of here!" Jon shouted at him.
"Not a chance," Lucan replied, his tone calm despite the chaos.
Together, Lucan and Jon pushed the wolves back. One by one, the pack retreated into the shadows, their growls fading into the distance.
The clearing fell silent except for the heavy breathing of the three humans.
Violet climbed down from the tree, her heart racing. "You… You saved us."
Lucan leaned on his spear, a smirk on his face. "Twice in one day. I'm starting to think you owe me, Violet."
Jon stepped between them, his sword still in hand. "Why are you following us?"
Lucan raised an eyebrow. "I wasn't following you. I heard the commotion and came to help. You're welcome, by the way."
Jon didn't lower his guard. "People don't just happen upon fights like that."
Lucan sighed, his green eyes meeting Jon's. "You're right. I've been tracking that boar for two days. It led me to you."
Violet frowned. "Why didn't you say so earlier?"
"Because you looked like you needed the win," Lucan said with a shrug, though there was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes.
Jon didn't seem convinced, but Violet found herself torn. Lucan had saved their lives—twice—and despite Jon's suspicions, she couldn't ignore the sense of safety she felt in his presence.
As they prepared to leave, Lucan surprised them by saying, "You shouldn't go back to Winterfell tonight."
Jon scowled. "Why not?"
"There's something in the woods," Lucan said, his tone serious. "Something worse than wolves. I've seen tracks—bigger than any beast I've encountered. And they're headed toward Winterfell."
Violet exchanged a glance with Jon, unease settling over her.
"Then we need to warn them," Jon said firmly.
Lucan hesitated, his gaze lingering on Violet. "If you're going back, I'm coming with you."
Jon opened his mouth to argue, but Violet spoke first. "He saved us, Jon. Twice. Let him come."
Jon clenched his jaw but didn't protest further.
The three of them set off toward Winterfell, the boar forgotten. As they moved through the darkening forest, Violet couldn't shake the feeling that something—or someone—was watching them.
And for the first time, she wondered if they were heading toward safety—or into even greater danger.