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Chapter Text

Lyanna was thankful to finally see Winterfell looming ahead. She loved her siblings to death, but after spending thirteen days copped up in a ship with them and then ten more of riding she didn’t want to see them again for a while.

Robb spurred his horse to ride next to hers. He had a huge, excited grin on his face. But Robb always had a big smile on his face so there was nothing off with the picture.

“’ts been ages since we’ve seen them,” he said. Robb had the habit of starting conversations in the middle, as if they had just been talking for a while. Most days Lyanna found it cute.

“I can’t believe it’s been over a year since we’ve been here,” Dawn quickly joined the conversation. Dawn was always up for talking. “That doesn’t mean I’m not glad wheneverAunt Sansa and the rest come to Storms End as they did those months ago. Most times it’s nicer to play host than it is to play guest. But it’s always great to see Winterfell again. It’s such a lovely place, don’t you think? And it’s full of so many interesting stories! Nothing boring ever happened at Winterfell.”

Lyanna grimaced. Her sister had heard too many songs about The Battle of Winterfell. Even though their mother had strictly forbidden those kinds of songs to be played in Storms End. As if that could stop the bards from playing it or Lyanna and her sibling from hearing it.

Her mother didn’t like to talk about it. The Battle of Winterfell was a bloody affair and thousands of people died that night. People she should have known, but she didn’t. Like Theon Greyjoy, who should have been like another uncle to her but wasn’t.

Her life was full of ghosts she never met but haunted her all the same.

Her mother didn’t talk about the Battle of Winterfell but Lyanna knew of it anyway. The maids talked as did the soldiers and the guards and the smiths and cooks and carpenters and farmers.

“It is known,” as the Dothraki would say.

The bards played their songs and the jesters and minstrels told their tales. And in all of them her family made an appearance.

It wasn’t easy sometimes. Being the daughter of Princess Arya Baratheon-Stark. More known as Arya Stark. The Arya Stark. The Bringer of Dawn.

The one who killed the Night King and eradicated all of his army when she was still almost a child. The one who put an end to the War for the Dawn and the Long Night and single-handedly defeated a creature worse than any nightmares.

The one who saved the whole of humanity.

Nothing to live up to, then, just preventing the utter destruction of the human race.

Her father loved to tell her that Lyanna had just been starting to form in her mother’s womb when she had killed the Night King.

“So you could say you defeated him, too,” he would tell her.

Some would find it poetic, the fact that Arya Stark had defeated death while carrying new life inside. Lyanna just found it gross because she didn’t want to think of her parents having pre-battle sex.

Or sex of any kind, to be honest, but that was quite difficult to manage when one’s parents were Arya and Gendry Baratheon.

They had made a bet at some point in their lives to see if they could traumatize all of their kids.

They had managed four out of seven at the moment.

“Look, Lya, look!”

The sound of her nickname broke her out of her thoughts. Neddy was on her right while Robb, who had been the one to call her, kept riding on her left. Neddy hadn’t been the only brother to join her, for Davey rode with Dawn and the both of them were talking a mile a minute.

The only one who could match Dawn’s chattering was Davey.

“I wasn’t listening to them either,” Neddy told her with a smile.

Neddy was twelve, the closest in age to her, just turned five and ten. They had a special understanding, a bond, she didn’t have with the rest of her siblings.

“Look, look!” Robb tugged at her sleeve. He was pointing at the Keep, where a head of red hair peeked from the ramparts. “It’s Cathy!”

Cathy Stark’s head disappeared just as the horn sounded. Lyanna knew her little cousin had gone running to stand by the doors and be there when they opened.

At least until her mother grabbed a hold of her and put her back in the greeting formation that was surely forming in the courtyard.

“I think they’ve spotted us,” Arya Baratheon-Stark said dryly.

Lyanna turned around to grin at her mother. She was riding with Alesander, the youngest of her siblings and only three years old, and Lyanna knew she was taking advantage to cuddle with him as much as she could.

“Were they supposed to be surprised?”

“They could act like it,” her mother said with false grumpiness. “I didn’t warn them this time.”

“Uncle Bran always tells them,” Lyanna told her. “He always knows everything.”

Something dark passed over her mother’s face and Lyanna saw her glance at Dawn for a second. Her expression turned blank, something Lyanna had seen her do in very few occasions and always scared the hell out of her.

Lyanna’s father came from the rear as if his wife had mentally called him. Five-year-old Alyssa rode quite happily on the horse with him. He quickly took notice of the situation and he and Arya had one of those silent conversations they were so fond of.

“Lya,” said Gendry in the end. “Why don’t you take Aly and get your siblings to Winterfell?”

Lyanna knew better than to demand answers. It never worked. That still didn’t stop her from trying from time to time.

“Come on, Aly,” she helped her father put her little sister in front of her. “Let’s see if we can get Dawn and Davey to stop talking long enough to get through the doors.”

Alyssa giggled. “Not possible,” she said.

Lyanna laughed and rushed to meet the rest of her siblings. She knew her parents would figure out whatever it was troubling them together.

They always did.

There was a small welcoming party waiting for them in the courtyard as Lyanna had expected. Her aunt, Sansa Stark, stood regally in the middle with her husband and her children at her sides.

Lyanna’s mother got off the horse and walked gracefully to stand in front of the Queen in the North.

“Your Grace,” Arya bowed respectfully. They were the image of propriety and perfection. Both of them solemn as the situation required.

“Princess Arya,” Queen Sansa nodded in respect.

Lyanna saw her mother pressing her lips very tight together but that didn’t stop them from trembling. Queen Sansa’s cheek twitched.

“I hope,” the Queen had to clear her throat because her voice had come out somewhat strangled and high-pitched. “I hope you had a pleasant journey here.”

“The sea was a bit,” her voice shook. “It was a bit rough.”

“Oh,” Queen Sansa put on a carefully studied expression of mild concern. “I hope it didn’t inconvenience you much.”

That was too much for Arya, who burst out laughing and it set Sansa off too. They hugged tightly and everybody in the courtyard smiled at the scene.

 “I’ve missed you,” said Sansa.

“I’ve missed you, too.” Arya stepped away from the embrace, smiling. “How did you know we were coming?”

Sansa Stark rolled her eyes. “Bran sent a raven,” she said and then a puzzled look took over her face. “He also said he was coming, too.”

“But Bran hasn’t left the capital since he was crowned.” Arya furrowed her brows.

“I know, but he’s determined. He should be getting here in a fortnight.”

Arya frowned and Lyanna did so, too. If she’d heard she would be seeing her brother shortly, one she hadn’t seen in more than two years, she would have been happier. She couldn’t even imagine going more than ten days without seeing her siblings.

The last time Lyanna had seen King Bran the Broken she hadn’t been yet three and ten. Her mother had taken Lyanna, Neddy, Dawn and Davey to the capital while her father looked after Storm’s End and the rest of her siblings. They were supposed to spend a month in the capital but left in a hurry after three weeks.

Her mother didn’t talk about it no matter how much Lyanna asked her.

“Aunt Arya, look! Another one fell out!” Cathy bared her teeth, a couple of them missing.

Arya laughed. “Uh, let me see.” Arya crouched so close to her niece their noses were almost touching. Cathy giggled and Arya trapped her in a hug, tickling her at the same time.

“Mother, help me!” Cathy squealed.

“Your mother can’t help you, my toothless niece. You’re mine now. Are you sure they are going to grow back?”

“Motheeer!”

Lyanna felt a hand tugging on her breeches. Little Theon Stark was beaming up at her and she melted at the sight of his dimples.

“Well, hello there,” she scooped him up.

“Lya, Lya, I’m four now,” Theon told her seriously, showing her his hand with four fingers up.

“Oh, you’re very big now, aren’t you?”

“I’m a big, big boy.” Theon nodded. “Where’s Sandy?”

Sandy, more formally known as Alesander, was busy at the moment talking with Davey and Theon’s father. Well, actually Davey was talking and the other two were listening.

“Stop boring Uncle Pod with your ship talk, Dave,” she told her brother.

Davey scowled. “He asked me!”

“And I bet he’s regretting it now,” she said.

“Oh, no,” Podrick Stark was quick to jump in. “It’s actually very interesting.”

Davey glared at his sister. “See?”

Theon squirmed in Lyanna’s arms and she let him down. With a squeal Theon and Alesander disappeared running into the keep.

“The new forge wasn’t done when you were last here, was it?” Podrick asked them, changing the subject in an effort to maintain the peace. “Why don’t you go get your father and I’ll show you.”

Lyanna laughed. “You know if you show him he won’t leave that place during our entire visit.”

Podrick smiled. “I’ll get him out,” he assured. “Besides, he still owes me a couple games of dice,” he said.

“My father is awful at dice,” Lyanna wrinkled her nose.

Her uncle beamed. “I know.”

In Winterfell Lyanna had a room all to herself. Being the oldest of her siblings and cousins, her Aunt Sansa had deemed it necessary.

“You’re almost a woman,” she had said. “You should have your own room here.”

So she slept in what had once been her Uncle Jon’s room. It was small and a bit separated from the rest of her family, but that only made it better. It had a big window and on the bed frame were scrawled the initials J.S.

Jon Snow. Or maybe Jon Stark in a desire to belong.

Neither of those were the true initials of her Uncle but it brought her closer to the man she had never met.

Her Uncle Jon had gone live North of the Wall after the Massacre of King’s Landing. Nobody had ever seen him again, after all he had been banished from Westeros, but he sent her mother a raven from time to time.

Arya always told Lyanna he was happier North of the Wall than he would have ever been South of it. But she always looked so, so sad when she spoke of her half-brother that it broke Lyanna’s heart.

Even if talking about Jon made Arya sad it still made her feel closer to him so she shared all the stories she could with her children. They should know about their Uncle, was what she said.

Lyanna owed her name in part to Jon. Lyanna Stark had been Jon’s mother and Eddard Stark’s sister. He’d kept the secret during all his life. So when Lyanna was born her mother had decided that with that name she could honor her father, her brother and Lyanna Giantslayer Mormont and even Lyanna Stark herself in one stroke.

Arya’s Stark’s life was still full of ghosts many years later.

“Lyyyyaaaaaa!” that whining voice could only belong to Robb. “Are you coming to break your fast?”

Lyanna held back a sigh. “I’m coming!” she called as she finished tying up her bootlaces.

“Hurry uuuup!”

When she slammed the door open she saw his pout. He was far too cute for his own good.

“You could have gone on your own, you know? Or with Neddy and Davey.”

Robb grabbed her hand. “That’s not fun,” he stated. “Come on. We’ll be late.”

They weren’t late but they certainly weren’t the first ones there. Alyssa, Alessander and Theon were missing, probably still in bed, as were their fathers. Lyanna would bet their absence was caused by a session of heavy drinking and exaltation of friendship the night before. Her father had probably lost a lot of games of dice.

If Queen Sansa and Lyanna’s mother had also partaken in their own private celebrations they hid it better. Maybe they didn’t look as fresh as they should but Lyanna had learnt early enough that her mother’s best moments would never be in the morning.

Davey handed her a plate with some eggs and Dawn gave her a bowl of porridge. She thanked them with a smile.

“What are your plans for today?” her aunt asked her.

Lyanna hadn’t been awake long enough to ready herself for such a question. “I don’t know,” she said politely. “Maybe I’ll spar for a bit. The gods know Neddy certainly needs it,” she gave her brother a teasing look.

“Hey!” he waved a spoonful of porridge at her.

“Can we go to the Godswood?” Cathy’s eyes lit up. “You have to see it. Mother has let me help tend it and you have to see it.”

It sounded interesting enough. “Sure,” Lyanna said. “We can go after we’re done.”

The Godswood had suffered so many losses during the many sackings and battles in Winterfell that, years later, Queen Sansa was still trying to fix it. The Keep had been almost completely fixed in those past few years, but a forest takes longer to heal and longer to grow.

There were young saplings growing mostly on the outskirts and some more on the rest of the woods. The canopy of their branches made a ceiling and it was like stepping into another realm. The Godswood her mother had been bringing to life in Storms End would never be able to compare.

Every time she stepped into Winterfell’s Godswood Lyanna always found it a little bit easier to believe that the Old Gods were real.

The Heart Tree was as unsettling as it had always been, with the face carved out and tears of sap running down its bark.

Robb gave a gleeful joy and jumped into the pool in front of the tree. Clothes and all.

Davey, of course, followed. Lyanna only sighed.

“Don’t worry, Lya,” Cathy told her. “The water is warm and the pool is not too deep.” She toed off her boots and sat on a wide, flat stone at the edge of the pool. It was low enough that it let her dip her toes in the water.

“They know how to swim,” Neddy assured his cousin. “In Storm’s End we go swimming in the sea all the time and the waters are far rougher there.”

He had been copying his cousin’s early actions while he spoke and he sat down at her side as he ended. He splashed some water to his brothers with his feet and grinned at Lyanna.

“I seem to be overruled.”

“Come join us.”

If you can’t beat them... She sat with them on the stone, the water lapping at her calves. It was warm but that wasn’t a surprise. She’d bathed in the Winterfell pools before.

“If you two drown Mother will kill me,” she told her younger brothers. “So don’t drown.”

Robb padded towards her. “We won’t!”

“Dawn!” Davey called. “What are you doing there? Come on, jump!”

Lyanna searched for her sister. The girl stood in front of the Heart Tree, glancing at its eyes with a strange expression. She seemed to be far away, as if she wasn’t really conscious in that moment.

Lyanna felt a shiver of worry coursing through her spine.

“Dawn.” Her sister didn’t turn. “Dawn, come here.”

Dawn didn’t listen. There was something in her expression that led Lyanna to believe she couldn’t hear her. Cold fear settled on her chest.

“Dawn,” she tried to keep her voice even. “Get away from there.”

Dawn raised her hand, palm towards the tree. Her eyes glistened and two fat tears ran through her cheeks.

Lyanna jumped to her feet.

Dawn’s hand hovered over the bark of the tree, right under the face.

Lyanna outreached her arm as she ran.

Dawn’s palm made contact with the tree.

The wave crashed against all of them. It threw Lyanna to the ground and sent Neddy and Cathy to the water. It wasn’t a wave of anything she could see but she felt it all the same against her body. Powerful, ancient, unspeakable.

Dawn remained standing, her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Her arm fell, hand leaving the tree, and she collapsed.

She gathered her sister in her arms. Dawn was shaking as if the aftermath of the wave still ran through her veins. Lyanna brushed her hair away from her face. The shaking faded.

“Dawn?” Lyanna wasn’t proud of how much her voice shook.

Dawn’s blue eyes opened slowly. If Lyanna had been standing she would have fallen down again from the pure relief that hit her.

“Lya?” Dawn’s voice was tiny.

“Are you alright?”

Dawn blinked. “What happened?”

That was what Lyanna herself would like to know. “You fainted,” she said simply.

“Oh,” said Dawn. “You’re bleeding.”

Lyanna brought a hand to her head. She hadn’t even felt it hurting until Dawn mentioned it. Her fingers came back stained with red and she grimaced. She must have hit her head with something when the wave threw her to the ground.

“I fell.” It wasn’t really a lie.

Dawn let out a giggle. “You’re so clumsy,” she announced as she rolled her eyes.

Lyanna could have smacked her.

Chapter Text

Lyanna knew Dawn was trying to hide it, but she could see her shaking. She was awfully pale and her fingers kept twitching. She also wasn’t talking, and for Dawn that was a pretty big deal. And there was something in her eyes... she was scared. She was scared about what had happened and how she had lost control. She was terrified.

Lyanna couldn’t blame her. She was scared too.

The Maester was inside his room inside the Maester’s Turret. Lyanna had never needed his care but still she couldn’t recall seeing him around. And she’d been to Winterfell enough times to recognize most faces.

He looked very surprised to see her, his eyes going wide and his jaw dropping a bit. Lyanna had some doubts on his prowess as a Maester if that was the way he reacted to a head wound.

Then he shook his head and seemed to get a grip on himself.

“Why don’t you sit down?” he gestured towards the table.

Lyanna did so, her eyes never leaving Dawn. “You need to help her first,” she demanded.

The Maester hummed. “Alright,” he said calmly. “What seems to be the problem?”

He walked Dawn to a chair and sat her down. Lyanna’s sister blinked sluggishly at the man and a shudder ran through her. The Maester checked her forehead, examined her eyes and clicked his tongue.

“I have the perfect remedy,” he announced.

The perfect remedy seemed to be a cup of tea made with different herbs. It smelled strong and Lyanna, not fond of tea, wouldn’t have drunk it for the world. Luckily for her sister, she didn’t have that kind of problem.

The Maester left Dawn drinking her tea and turned his attentions to her. “What happened here?”

“I fell,” said Lyanna.

The Maester didn’t look like he believed her but he refrained from commenting. Instead he grabbed a clean cloth and dabbed it with some ointment.

Lyanna already knew it would sting but she still couldn’t help but hiss.

“Are you new?” she asked him while he tended to her head.

He stopped his dabbing long enough to look at her with confusion. “No?”

“Oh.” Lyanna chided herself for not paying more attention. Her mother would be disappointed. “Sorry.”

He put a salve over the injury on her forehead and she bit down a sigh of relief. Both because it was over and because it didn’t seem to need stitches.

Lyanna wasn’t very fond of being sewn like a dress.

“No harm done,” he said and stepped back. “As for you, it looked far worse than it was, as head wounds tend to do. You will probably suffer of a headache for a couple of days but you’ll be fine.”

“Alright,” she jumped off the table. “Thank you.” She couldn’t forget her manners.

She looked at her sister. The Maester’s fortifying tea had seemed to do the trick for she looked much better. She had stopped shaking and some color had returned to her cheeks. It was a relief.

Dawn caught her eye and stood up, leaving the tea in the Maester’s table. Still not saying anything she stood by her sister.

“Thank you again,” Lyanna told him sincerely.

He smiled at her. “It’s my job,” he reminded her.

“Still...” she squeezed Dawn’s shoulder. “Are you good to go?”

Dawn nodded. She looked far better than she did five minutes ago. She nodded at the Maester both in acknowledgement and gratitude before strutting out the door. Lyanna followed.

“Nobody warned me about having to treat ghosts,” she thought she heard the Maester muttering before the door closed.

She decided she must have heard it wrong.

“Maester Luwin was nice,” Dawn said.

“Who?”

Dawn pointed at the door behind them with her head. Lyanna couldn’t even recall the Maester ever telling them his name. But Dawn always knew everybody’s name so that wasn’t a surprise.

“Come on,” Dawn grabbed her hand and tugged. “The boys are in the courtyard.”

There was something off. Something in the air that made Lyanna stand on edge. A wrongness that frayed her nerves and made her keep looking over her shoulder.

But then Dawn squeezed her hand and Lyanna did her best to shrug it off.

The Keep was a bustle of activity and Lyanna and Dawn had to dodge a fair share of people to get to the courtyard. Lyanna couldn’t remember Winterfell being so full when she’d left for breakfast.

Dawn’s hand kept tugging her forward and kept her from thinking too much. It seemed that the Maester’s tea had worked wonderfully, for Dawn was almost back to her normal self.

She still wasn’t talking but at least she had stopped shaking.

They spotted Neddy in the training grounds, sitting over one of the low walls surrounding the courtyard. He waved at them when he saw them coming and scooted to the side to make space for the both of them. Lyanna pushed herself up and looked over to where he had been watching moments ago. Davey and Robb were inside the training arena with some older boys. They seemed to be enjoying themselves and the older boys seemed to have the situation under control so Lyanna scanned the yard.

“Where’s Cathy?”

Ned shook his head towards the Keep. “She went in for some dry clothes,” he said.

It was then that Lyanna remembered that her brothers and her cousin had all fallen (or jumped) inside a pool with their clothes on. Neddy didn’t seem to mind being wet, even if he had dried considerably. Although his hair was still a bit damp.

Lyanna brushed it away from his face.

Neddy rolled his eyes but let her do. When she lowered her hands he raised an eyebrow as if to say ‘Satisfied?’ and she gave him a warning glare.

“How’s your head?”

She had to smile at the concern in her voice. “Fine now,” she said. “It was worse than it seemed.”

Neddy stared at the injury and nodded, seemingly satisfied. “And what about...” He left the sentence hanging in the air but glanced towards Dawn intently.

Dawn was staring at her brothers silently. She leaned against the wall, her hands crossed behind her back. Lyanna couldn’t decipher the expression on her face. It unsettled her because Dawn always was an open book.

“Better, I think.” Lyanna sighed and harshly rubbed her face. “I don’t know.”

“Shouldn’t we tell Mother and Father?

“I don’t want them to worry.”

Neddy glared at her. “Isn’t this something to worry about?”

Lyanna glanced at her sister once more. “I don’t know,” she repeated.

“Have you asked Wolkan what it could be?”

“Who?”

Neddy rolled his eyes. “Maester Wolkan?” his voice had an incredulous edge. “He’s been here for years! He fixed my arm when you broke it years ago!”

“I did not break it! You fell down!” She scowled.

“You pushed me!”

Lyanna scoffed. “I gently nudged you.”

He laughed. “You shoved me and you know that’s the truth.”

She turned her nose up, because she knew that wasn’t the truth, but they’d had the same conversation enough times that they knew there would be no convincing the other. “Dawn said his name was Luwin,” she said instead.

Neddy frowned and looked at their sister once again. “Dawn is great with names,” he said. “She’s not usually wrong.”

Lyanna’s stomach churned with worry.

And Dawn was still silent.

Lyanna leaned against her brother and he dutifully let her. They watched their younger brothers fighting like Dawn was doing. Well, she didn’t know if fighting was the correct word.

Robb was the one sparring with a boy that was more than twice his age while Davey looked from the sidelines. But it wasn’t really sparring, Robb was waving his sword around in big circles while yelling incoherently. He attacked his opponent, a tall young man with auburn curls, and their swords made a loud clank as they met.

Wait a second...

“WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING, ROBB?” She jumped off the wall and stalked towards her little brother. Both fighters dropped their swords, their real, steel swords, and turned to look at her with wide eyes.

“Lya...” Robb started with a cute, innocent face.

“That’s not going to work this time,” she spat. “You know you’re not allowed to use real swords yet.”

“But Neddy’s allowed!”

“Neddy’s twelve! He knows what he’s doing! You’re a little kid.”

Robb’s eyes flashed. “I’m not little!”

Lyanna ignored him and turned to the other fighter. “And what the fuck is wrong with you?” He gaped at her. “Can’t you see he’s just a little boy? He’s seven!”

“I-I- He said he did this all the time!” The boy stammered.

“And you believed him?”

Another boy came to his defense. “Hey! Who do you think you are?”

Lyanna gaped at him. Not because he’d dared to talk to her that way, but because it was like looking at Neddy in a couple of years. The boy had the Stark long face, dark hair and grey eyes that her mother had given Neddy. And also had given her, except for the eyes.

“What the hell?”

“Hey! Don’t you talk to my sister that way!” Davy’s scowl was something fierce as he stood in front of her. The idiot.

“Don’t you think you’re not in trouble, too,” she told him.

He gasped with faked outrage. “And I defended you!”

“As if I can’t take care of myself,” she scoffed.

The other two boys snorted. It made her bristle.

“And what’s that supposed to mean?”

They shared a look. “Well...” the redheaded one said slowly. “You’re a girl,” he pointed out. “Shouldn’t you be sewing or something?”

Lyanna couldn’t believe there were still people with that mentality when her Aunt was Queen in the North by her own right. When her mother was the savior of all humanity and the Kingsguard was commanded by a woman. When there were more women leading keeps than men.

“Now you’ve done it,” Davey told the two boys with an impish grin.

Lyanna grabbed the sword her brother had dropped and twirled it. “Could you care to repeat that?”

The boy let out an incredulous laugh and looked at his friend as if asking him if he could believe it. “You want to spar with me?”

Lyanna sized them up. They didn’t look that much older than her and they looked fairly comfortable with a sword. But they hadn’t had Arya Stark as a teacher.

“Oh, no,” she said sweetly. “I want to spar with the both of you.”

They shared another look and laughed. “What? At the same time?” asked the one with the Starks features.

Lyanna cocked an eyebrow. “Why? Are you afraid?”

The redheaded boy grabbed his sword from the ground and nodded at his friend, who accepted the sword Davey was offering him.

“Shouldn’t you be at least a little worried about your sister?”

Davey laughed. “Oh, no,” he said. “You’re the one who should be worried.”

At least that made the boy look a little bit less sure about himself. The other one didn’t have the same problem.

“Look,” he was saying. “I’m going to try not to hurt-”

Lyanna lunged forward and with an upwards swipe ripped the sword from his hand, then she spun around and brought her sword down the other boy’s, who was starting to react, sending it crashing to the ground. Everything in less than three seconds and in one fluid move.

They could have passed as fishes from the look on their faces alone.

Robb, Davey, Neddy and Dawn cackled in the background.

“You were saying?”

“That’s not fair!” the redheaded boy sputtered. “We weren’t ready.”

The other boy was looking amused. “Can we try that again?” he asked.

Lyanna nodded at him to pick up his sword. She waited until they were both armed with the blunt, heavy swords, and smirked at them. “Are you ready now?” she asked cheekily.

The redheaded one shot forward but Lyanna sidestepped him easily and blocked the blow from his friend.

“At least you’re making it interesting this time.”

Lyanna got lost in the fight as she danced between the two boys. Her heart pumped loudly in her ears like it always did and her blood burned, setting her on fire. They put up a good fight. They were both good swordsmen and were clearly used to fighting with each other, but her waterdancing skills seemed to take them by surprise.

Lyanna was having fun. It had been a while since she’d fought with someone new and she’d forgotten how fun it could be. She didn’t know them and so she had to be ready for their every move because she didn’t know yet which one were they favorites. Still, they had been trained by the same person and it showed.

She knew they were having fun, too. The redhead had started to smile and the other one looked a little less broody.

“What is going on here?!”

They froze, Lyanna with her sword raised in a blow, and glanced guilty to the side. A stout man was glaring at them with his arms crossed. He had long white hair but didn’t look like a frail old man.

Lyanna exchanged a look with her auburn-haired partner. They both lowered their weapons.

“What is the meaning of this?” he asked. “Who are you?” he glared at Lyanna.

She blinked at the unknown man. She was certain she hadn’t seen him around. Also he should know better than to speak that way to the future Lady of Storms’ End and niece of two royals. “Who am I? Who are you?”

His scowl deepened. “I just happen to be the master-at-arms of Winterfell.”

Lyanna laughed. “No, you’re not,” she said. “My Uncle Pod is the master-at-arms,” she said.

The two boys looked confused, as did the man. “There is no one by that name here, girl.”

Lyanna looked around the courtyard for some support. They had gathered some viewers during their fight and her eyes made contact with a man standing in the battlements. With brown hair, long face and clear eyes, his features screamed Stark and he was looking at her as if he had seen a ghost.

Lyanna was getting tired of that expression.

She spotted Cathy standing next to Dawn and Neddy. It was Cathy’s home, she would know how to deal with the man. At her pleading look they walked forward to join her.

“What’s the matter here?” Cathy demanded in her best princess voice.

The man huffed at the sight of more kids. “Look, children,” he said. “I don’t know who you are but I’m not in the mood for pranks right now.”

Cathy scowled and stood up straighter. “I am Cathy Stark,” she said. “Heir to the North and Winterfell.”

There were frowns all around and a scatter of giggles.

“I’m the heir to the North and Winterfell,” the redheaded boy said.

And to think Lyanna had believed they weren’t so bad. She wondered if it was a prank or if they had all collectively lost their mind or...

A shiver rode up her spine but she willed it down.

Cathy glared at him. “Who are you?”

“I’m Robb.”

“You can’t be,” said Robb. “I’m Robb.”

The other Robb glanced at him. “Shouldn’t you be the heir to the North and Winterfell, then?” he mocked.

Lyanna bristled. The only ones who could mess with Robb had the Stark or Baratheon surname.

Neddy grabbed her wrist, holding her back.

Robb blinked at him. “Don’t be silly,” he said. “I don’t even live in Winterfell.”

“Besides, if something happened to me then Theon would be the heir, not Robb.”

That seemed to break them, the other Robb mouthing ‘What?’ with an utterly confused expression on his face. His friend was also trying to make sense to Cathy’s words but without success.

“And if something happened to Theon,” Cathy kept going, oblivious. “Then I guess Lya would step up?” she mused. “Or maybe Neddy?”

The man Lyanna had seen before walked towards them with such purpose people parted to let him through. His face was grave and worried and he kept glancing at her as if he was worried she would do something crazy.

Lyanna’s father had looked at her that way many times before but she usually had to earn such a look.

“What is happening here?” he asked.

The two boys straightened even if relief coursed through the other Robb’s face.

“Father,” he said. “They seem to be trying to pull a prank. She says she’s Cathy Stark, heir to the North and Winterfell and he says he’s me.”

Robb scowled. “I didn’t say that. I said I was Robb so you couldn’t be Robb too.”

“Well, there’s only one Robb Stark and that’s me.”

Neddy, who had been frowning during the whole conversation, gasped and his face cleared. “Oh.”

Lyanna looked at him. She had a bad feeling starting in the mouth of her stomach. It made her want to run far, far away. “Neddy?” she tried to keep her voice even.

Neddy looked at her, his eyes wide. “Lyanna, can’t you see?”

“See what?”

“We’re in the past.”

She could have sworn her heart stopped for a moment then picked up speed. “Don’t be stupid.” If her laughter had a shaky edge she was the only one to notice. “People can’t travel in time.”

But she looked at the redheaded boy with blue eyes who swore he was Robb Stark. And she looked at the Stark boy with a sad face who seemed to be the same age. And the man who looked at her as if she was something impossible.

Lyanna swallowed.

Neddy looked up at the man and grey eyes met grey. “You’re Eddard Stark, aren’t you?” he asked surely.

Lord Eddard Stark nodded. “Who are you?”

“I’m your grandson,” Neddy said. “Eddard. But everybody calls me Neddy.”

Lord Eddard Stark took a long hard look at him, then at Lyanna and Cathy and Robb and sighed. “I think we better take this conversation somewhere more private.”