Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

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 it 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 with 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 girl 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 reward.” 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, 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 fails to notice the 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 guids 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. 

Chapter Text

Theon remembers his life before very well. His strong father. Meron and Rodrik. Their training sessions with master-at-arms Dagmer. Their japes when he (always) fell behind. Master Wendamyr letting him hide from Yara in his work chambers when playing. Of his mother’s loving embraces and dotingness. His terrifying uncle Euron. His annoying big sister. 

The taste of salt in the air. The feel of the sea in his hands. All these things he took for granted. 

He feels terrified when he has to leave. He fears Lord Eddard and his sword of valyrian steel “Ice”. Of King Robert's war hammer and the bloodied knights who had just killed off half his family and people. 

He spends the entire journey locked in his chambers. The thought of jumping overboard crosses his mind multiple times. The sea is in him. Saltwater courses through his veins, thicker than the blood. He could swim home. Either that or he would sink…. Not that drowning particularly scared him. No ironborn could truly drown, for what is dead may never die, but rises again harder and stronger. 

He wants to do the same thing when he gets to Winterfell. To hide away with his tail tucked behind his legs. To cry and plead to be taken back home. But he is Theon Greyjoy. Last surviving son of Balon Greyjoy. Heir to the iron islands. He will be strong, even when he feels anything but. 

So he puts on his armor. He refuses to cower away in the corner like some craven. He will not show fear. He drags himself out of bed and out of his chambers every morning. He sits with Lord Stark and his family for dinner every night. He plays with their children. He speaks loudly and proudly of his family and culture. He chases around the kids and jokes, brazen laughs that no prisoner should feel comfortable enough to do. 

And pretty soon, he stops having to pretend. 

Ned Stark is a good man. Sure, he’s rather cold to Theon but he treats him better than any other lord would treat their “ward”.  He asks him about his day. He wants to make Theon a better man than his father and brothers were. Perhaps Theon wants the same thing. 

And then there’s Robb. As courteous and dutiful as his father, but with a bold sense of mischief and adventure akin to Theon’s own. Robb, who welcomed him with open arms. Who had always treated him like an equal, no matter what the other little lords (or his sullen baseborn brother) had to say about him.  Who had become like a brother to him. More so than his blood brothers had ever been. 

There were the younger Stark children. Bran and Arya, whom he’d enjoyed teasing relentlessly. Little Rickon, a much-welcomed addition. The babe was a wild thing, always running after them and trying to keep up. Theon and Robb often enjoyed playing with him: hide-in-seek and piggyback rides. Theon liked to imagine that he’d have a similar bond with his own son one day, though he was hard-pressed to admit it (everyone knew only ladies fantasized about parenthood).

The kids had been too little to understand what was happening when he arrived. Sure, they knew about his position, but they had known him too long to see him as anything other than their father's ward. And he likes that. 

He trains with Ser Rodrik and excels at it. He may not be as good with a lance as Robb or with a sword as Snow, but no one has yet to best him with a bow. 

He likes it here. He gets his fill of the ladies in Winterfell (which is only natural given his station). Sometimes Robb even joins him. 

And late at night when he lies in his bed, Theon wonders if this place could ever truly be his home. He hopes so. 

Theon huddled his cloaks closer around himself as he descended the steps. Even after years of being here, he had never gotten used to the climate. Most days he could bare it but today was particularly cold. 

The castle was built on a foundation of hotsprings and got warmer the further down one went. And that's exactly where he was going. 

He let out a sigh of relief as he reached his destination of the glass gardens, one of the most vibrant and warm places in the castle. 

There were a couple of people there, as to be expected. Most were the gardeners and attendants, but he saw some other kids and members of the household. They gave him a nod, acknowledging but not smiling at him. He smirked back, nonetheless. 

He walked briskly around for a while, letting his eyes roll over the plants but not particularly paying any mind to any of them. That is until one plant in particular captured his interest. Or rather, what was in front of the plant.

In front of a patch of Blood-blooms sat the middle Stark girl. She ran her fingers over the petals gently, a far-away look in her eyes. 

Theon walked to her, leaning beside her to get a closer look at the plant. She made no movement as he approached, not a nod or even a look, just kept her attention on the flowers before her. Robb would probably scold her for not being more attentive to her surroundings, but Theon was not the scolding type. 

  “So, this is where you’ve been hiding out.”

  “I’ve not been hiding out. I was just admiring the beauty of the gardens. This is a fresh batch. Their first time blooming ever.” 

Theon hummed at that, not interested in the flowers blooming at all, but deciding against expressing so. 

  “You know, Sansa has been looking for you,” he relays, trying and failing to remember what the redhead wanted. She had been talking to Robb and he just overheard parts of it. 

The girl seemed to know what he was talking about though. “Our lessons!” She exclaimed. “I must’ve lost count of time again.” 

She wiped her dress off, beginning to rise. Theon offered his hand to the young girl, helping her stand up. 

  “Come on  little lady,” the ward smirked at her, “I’ll escort you back up.” 

Minisa was old enough to not need an escort everywhere. Still, she accepted his offer. 

The two climbed the steps, making conversations ( and when Theon said conversation, he really meant it. It seemed impossible to make small talk with the girl before him ) along the way.  

When younger, Minisa used to follow him around like a little puppy, wide-eyed and amazed. She’d cling to his every word, giving him favors and gifts. It had been many moons since then and she was now ten and one. She had matured, no longer fawning over him as before. But while their relationship had changed, it had not disappeared. Theon would go as far as to call them friends now. Though he’d hardly admit it out loud. 

The two had somehow gotten on the topic of Iron Islands by the time they reached the top. Minisa hadn’t heard of many legends from there (a downright shame) and Theon was more than happy to inform her. 

  “The Greyirons were replaced by The Hoares, who were southerners in iron clothes. They worshipped the seven and wanted to rid the Iron Islands of the old ways. So, naturally, they were overthrown. ‘Harmund the Handsome’ they called him. He wasn’t so handsome when the priests were done with him-” 

  “Minisa!” called out a voice as they drew closer to the castle. 

Robb stood in the halls, arms crossed and eyebrows raised. 

  “Brother,” Minisa greeted, the ever-present smile on her face widening. 

  “Where were you two going?” 

Minisa answered. Though still young and naive, the girl knew enough to pick up on the underlying question from Robb: ‘ Where were you two coming from?’

  “Theon happened upon me in the gardens and was just escorting me back,” Minisa explained. “I already missed my lessons but I was hoping to make my sewing circle. I have been working on this dress for a while now. It’s beautiful” She gushed, her mind flitting from topic to topic as easily as… Well, he couldn’t come up with anything. 

  “I would quite like to see you in that pretty dress when you finish it” Theon teased, gaining a small shove from Minisa and a sharp look from the young wolf. 

Everyone was well aware of his reputation with the women. And though Robb had no problem with it, it made both him and Jon very antsy at the two of them spending time together. Theon often played into this. After all, it was quite fun to goad the two boys. But in truth, they had nothing to worry about. He had no interest in her. If he had his choice of the Stark girls, Sansa would be the obvious choice. 

Minisa was a perfectly fair girl with sweet eyes and good conversation. Theon would even go as far as to say that he had never been as fond of any lady as he was of her. He would not have minded being married off to her, but she was not of the same beauty as Sansa, nor would she grant him the same power as she would. 

And then there was Arya. She was not as horrid looking as some of the others often made her seem, but she definitely wasn't a beauty.

  “Well, why don’t I accompany you two then?” Robb questioned. 

  “That would be wonderful,” Minisa replied. She interloped one arm through each of the boy's hands and gestured forward. 

  “Do finish the story Theon,” Robb says, a smirk on his face. 

Theon passed by the dining hall, seeing the Starks breaking their fast together. He doesn’t go in and instead heads to the kitchens. 

It wasn’t uncommon for the young iron islander to dine amongst the family, that is if he wanted without company for the night or found himself in the bed of some maiden. 

But Theon preferred to keep his mornings to himself. 

After grabbing some buttered and jellied breads, winking at a much older but still attractive cook, he’s on his way again. 

He finds himself in the training yards which are for the most part empty. There is no training today, and even if it was, it’d be too early for it. 

He works on his archery, finding himself perfectly content to repeat the same motion over and over again. 

Eventually, the yard fills in and the Stark boys arrive. Minus Rickon, who is still too young to join them. 

Robb and Jon take turns sparring with Bran, pausing after every match to give him advice and tips. The little lord looks to be eating it up. 

Some in the north want to learn to fight with sword to show off. Most want to learn just to be capable. As long as they can protect themselves and their family, they’re satisfied. Not Bran though. The lad has big dreams of being a knight. He pays the most attention during Ser Rodrik's fighting lesson and fawns over those tales of legendary knights and swordsman just as his sisters do. 

Theon hopes the boy’s efforts prove fruitful. He much favors Rickon out of all the children(even at just three), but he still has a soft spot for Bran. 

The climber’s match comes to an end as Jon knocks the wooden sword out of his hands completely. Not with enough force as he would’ve used with Theon or Robb, but enough to not waste the boy's time. 

Bran lets out a disappointed sigh and Jon ruffles the boy's hair, giving him an affectionate smile that he reserved only for his younger siblings. 

  “You did good Bran. Maybe next time try a little more offense.” 

  “A little more offense? What kind of vague advice is that.” Theon teases, waking over to join the boys. He carries his bow and his smirk. 

  “Yeah, why don’t you try getting in there Greyjoy,” Robb asks, bumping his shoulder good-naturedly. 

  “Scared you’ll get embarrassed?” Jon asks. 

  “Not at all Snow. Besides, you're the least qualified person as handling their sword .” Theon replied, eyebrows raising suggestively. 

Jon blushes at the insinuation and Robb just laughs.

Bran shoots a look of confusion at Theon. He thinks Jon is very qualified at sword fighting. Apart from Ser Rodrik, Bran would consider him the most talented amongst them. 

Jon is the first one to notice the confused look on his face. 

  “It is inappropriate to speak of… such things in front of Bran. He's too young” 

  “No I’m not!” protests Bran, even though he had no idea what he was protesting. 

  “Such things?” Theon chuckles, ignoring Bran. If not for Theon seeing proof of Snow’s manhood when they were all younger and frequently bathed together, he would think Jon a septa in disguise. “Do you hear this Robb?” 

The ironborn turns to look at Robb and Jon does the same, both looking for support. The northern heir tries to ignore both of their pointed stares. Bran was too young to hear about such things but Theon hadn’t said anything explicit. After they don’t relent, Robb elects to move on. 

  “He is a little young for that kind of talk. Come on,” Robb pulled Bran a few feet away, kicking his sword over and getting in position for another match. 

  “Traitor,” Theon whispered incredulously. 

Jon looked even more certain at Robb's words but Theon was not one to back down. He continued his point. 

  “The boy is due to learn soon, Snow” He nocked his arrow, pointing it at the target before letting it shoot. Not quite in the bullseye but touching it. Satisfied, he continued, “Not all boys remain honorable maidens just as you.” 

  “I’d rather die a virgin than carry on as you do, roaming from bed to bed with no shame” Jon spat out. 

Theon took no offense to the words despite that being Snow’s obvious intentions. If anything, he took it as a compliment. 

Robb rolled his eyes at the two but otherwise paid the boys no mind, focusing on Bran. The two argued so frequently that he’d learned how to tune them out. 

  “It’s in my blood I fear. My people are known to ‘share our love’ with many. Why, it is practically my people’s custom to sire bastards-” 

  “Yeah,” Snow sneered, “Well it’s also your people's customs to lead stupid fucking rebellions that kill off half their line.” 

Jon knew he had gone too far and he would regret the words once his senses came back to him, but at the moment he was too angry to care. 

Robb paused polishing his sword, staring at the two boys in stunned silence. Jon and Theon both stood still in their spots, eyes intensely trained on each other. A collective breath was held as everyone waited for something to happen. And then it did. 

In the next moment, Theon’s fist was making contact with Jon, hitting him square in the jaw. The boys collapsed into a flurry of fists, striking at each other with abandon, more emotion than precision or thought. 

Robb quickly jumped in, “Guys, stop it!”. But they seemed not to hear. 

Soon, their noises garnered the attention of those nearby and they rushed in to see the commotion. 

Next thing they knew, the boys found themselves ripped apart. Jon and Robb in Ser Rodriks hands and Theon in Jory’s. 

Robb explained hurriedly what had happened but Theon and Jon didn’t hear him, intensely focused on one another.

The two struggled in the grips, still trying to get to the other, but the men just tightened their grips and held on until the boys had ceased their struggle. 

Once Jory loosened his grip, Theon pushed his hands away from him. He stared at Snow for a few moments more, contemplating whether or not to go at him again. The warning glances of Ser Rodrik and Jory root him though. He feels hot under the two men's eyes, seen. He was suddenly aware of the angry tears in his eyes and the heavy breathing. 

Angry and embarrassed, yet unable to do anything about it, he just stalked off, ignoring calls from Robb. 

He found himself making his way inside the castle in the direction of the room, where he could take out his frustrations on his own objects. He passes by the library on his way and stops. It should be empty at this time of day and is much closer than his own chambers. 

He pushes the door open, stalking back and forth in the dim room. He breathes hard, struggling to keep in the hot tears that now fall freely against his will. He’d let himself be reduced to tears by just a few heated words of a bastard and some warning glances. 

He pictured what his family would do if they could see him now. He could hear his father's scolding words now, feel the blows and taunts from his older brothers. ‘Craven’ they’d call him, as they’d done many times before. But would never do so again. 

He punches the first bookshelf beside him. Once. Then again. And again. Until the skin on his knuckles starts to break. 

  “Theon?” came a bewildered voice from somewhere in the room, strong but low. There, all the way in the back corner with a single, fading candle on the table in front of her was Minisa. 

Theon hadn’t noticed the figure when he came in and even after hearing her voice, struggled to make her out. 

  “What’s wrong?” she asks. 

He considers just stalking off, going back to his chambers where he could throw his fit in privacy. But Minisa’s voice is so genuinely concerned that he doesn’t. 

Minisa is kind. She listens to him with no judgment. In fact, she thinks the world of him. And he needs that right now. He stalks over to her table, her person becoming more clear the closer he gets. 

She wears a simple cream-colored gown, not unlike a nightdress but more appropriate. Her hair is loose, with random flower-laced braids through it. 

  “Your brother is what's wrong with me,” he vents, “he’s a pious, jealous sod who ought to know his position.” 

  “Robb is nothing of the sort,” Minisa asks, her eyes narrowing. 

  “No, Jon,”  Theon explains. Minisa’s gaze is still wary (she is not close to Jon but he is still her blood) but she allows Theon to continue. 

The iron-born youth continues to recount the events of earlier all the while pacing the length of the table. 

  “Can you believe that?” he lets out a huff, “I am Theon Greyjoy. Son of Balon Grey. Heir to the Iron Islands. What makes him think-” 

A pair of small arms wrapped around him, cutting him off mid-rant and bringing him back to the present. He had gotten worked up during his rant and hadn’t even noticed his face was once again wet and his body trembled. 

Minisa was hugging him, her face tucked into his chest. She felt warm and secure, a tether (surprising as the girl was anything but grounded). 

He was unsure how to react at first. No one had hugged him in years. He think his mother had been the last one, holding him tightly as they said goodbye. Sure, Robb had given him one-armed hugs in moments of camaraderie and Lord Stark occasionally gave him a shoulder squeeze, but it wasn’t the same. 

Theon found himself relaxing in the embrace, closing his eyes and letting out a tightly-wound breath he didn’t know he was holding. They stayed like that for what seemed like forever. 

He had gotten so lost in the comfort that he hadn’t noticed the sound of the door opening. Neither of them did, that is until a gasp sounded from across the room. 

The two jerked apart, looking toward the source. Jon Snow.

Jon had taken off running to their father and not too long after, all three of them sat in Lord Starks chambers. Jon stared at Theon with a thunderous expression, arms crossed as if Theon would care about his attitude. If it came to blows right now, Theon was positive he could take him 

Minisa looked guilty beside him. Her eyes downcast and her hands wringing together. She’d obviously never been in any sort of trouble. The ironborn had the urge to take one of her hands in his and comfort her until she returned to her normal self. But one thing kept him from moving a muscle. 

Lord Stark sat in front of them at his desk. His face was bare of expression but his eyes were cold. It unnerved the ironborn and had to force himself to keep calm. 

He questioned both of them on what happened. He listened silently to Minisa’s account while Jon and Theon faced each other in a stare-off. 

  “Well, after breakfast I went to the library. Septa Mordane says that I need to work on my studying. I mean, my reading is perfectly marvelous, but I’m not as adept in more practical subjects as she would like. Things like math-” 

  “Minisa,” the man warned his daughter as she trailed off. Stay on subject. 

  “Right. Well, I was in the library studying when Theon came in, knocking over things and crying-” Theon’s jaw tightened as she mentioned that detail, “ He didn’t even know I was there until I talked to him. He told me why he was upset and I hugged him to make him feel better, just as I do with Sansa or Bran or Rickon when they’re upset.”

After a few more minutes of Minisa over-explaining and rambling, she was done. Lord Stark then turned his full attention to the young ironborn, causing the young boy to shift. His eyes felt judgemental like he was thinking the worse of Theon. 

  “Theon,” He commanded, his voice no louder than usual but somehow a thousand times louder. “ Tell me what happened.”

Theon swallowed deeply, willing his voice not to shake. He rattled off the events of what happened, his story practically identical to Minisa’s. 

  “And then Jon saw us and ran off.” he finished. 

Everything was silent for a while as Ned stared at the two before him. Minisa had her eyes glued to the floor, messing with a braid in her hair. Theon felt like doing the same, but he kept his face normal and met Lord Stark’s eyes. Why should he act shameful? He had done nothing wrong. 

  “Jon,” Ned finally addressed the dark-haired boy, who was still fuming beside his lord father, “take Minisa to her chambers. We’ll talk later.” 

He directed the last sentence to Minisa, who quickly stood up and headed toward the door. 

Jon nodded respectfully, gently grabbing his sister's elbow and escorting her out of the room, all the way glaring daggers towards Theon. 

Minisa shot him a look of sympathy as she left. 

With that, the door closed behind the pair and he was left alone with Lord Stark. It wasn’t until then that he felt the full gravity of the situation weighing down on him. There was such a visceral fear. It was an odd feeling that he hadn’t had since first arriving in Winterfell. 

Theon gave in to the temptation to avert his eyes, looking all around the room. Anywhere was better than looking at Lord Stark’s hard, grey eyes. 

This proved to be a mistake. Not too far away from him lay Ice, the Stark family sword. It was a beautiful thing, large and shiny and sharp. But Theon wasn’t basking in the glory of the sword. 

All of a sudden,  images flowed through his mind unbidden. Of the sword suddenly in the Lord’s hands, pressing against Theon’s neck. 

He was sure that this was it. Theon had been caught alone with his daughter in a dark room, locked into an embrace. 

He would lock Theon up in a dungeon., or maybe confine him to his chambers for the rest of his ‘stay’. He’d really be treated like a prisoner. Or perhaps he’d wash his hands with him, send him to King Robert and let him ‘deal with him’. 

All of these possibilities were the best-case scenario. He didn’t like to think about the worst one. 

  “I trust you know that you and Minisa’s behavior today was inappropriate.” Ned finally questions. Theon nods his head yes. 

  “Good. She isn’t one of your friends, like Jon or Robb. She is your Lady, and these boundaries will not be crossed again. Understand?” 

Theon nods mutely through all of this, not trusting himself to speak. When finished up, he just stares at Theon for a few seconds before dismissing him. 

  “Alright. Retire to your chambers for the night. Someone will be up with dinner.” 

As Theon opens the door he’s faced with the three eldest children. They must’ve been listening at the door. 

Jon and Sansa stand side by side with their arms crossed and brows furrowed, unified in their common anger at the Ironborn youth. It’s an unusual sight. The two of them are unarguably the least close of Lord Starks children. And then there’s Robb. He has anger in his eyes too, but unlike the others, it’s outweighed by hurt. As if Theon had betrayed him. 

Theon ignores them all as he passes by but he can feel their lingering gazes on his back until he turns the corner. 

He receives multiple stares as he walks through the hall. Hears whispers that he can’t make out but can guess. The gossip must’ve spread through the castle like wildfire. 

Their glances hurt. It’s as if they’d expected such action from him. Theon may be unserious and like to play around, but he is neither dumb nor honorless. He would never try anything appropriate with Minisa. With any of the Stark girls really, but especially not Minisa. 

He reaches his chambers and lays down on his bed. 

As he stares at the ceiling he feels a lot of things. Mostly anger. 

That fucking Jon Snow. A jealous, baseborn bastard who’d been just waiting for the opportunity for Theon to mess up. 

He wanted to be mad at the lot of them. To hate them. But he couldn’t. The fault lay with one person and one person only. Himself.

Theon had gotten too comfortable. The families' affections, the children's interest, Ser Rodriks’ compliments. They’d made it so easy to forget the cold hard truth. That Theon Greyjoy was a prisoner of the Starks, a hostage used as leverage against Balon Greyjoy. 

He now understood that he couldn’t be brothers with Robb. Couldn’t be friends with Minisa. They weren’t on the same level. She would always be his captive’s daughter and he had made the mistake of getting too comfortable around her. 

It had been a hurtful lesson but desperately needed. He was not one of them. He shan’t forget again. 

Chapter Text

Chapter Three: 

It is high morning when Eddard Stark joins his wife on the balcony. He is exhausted, having spent the whole night catching up on lordly tasks. He preferred the more solitary, monotonous task of Lordship, but that did not mean they weren't taxing. 

He spotted her easily, her blue eyes and bright red hair that he loved so much stood out amongst everything. Her face was impassive but content as she watched the boys train on the field down below. 

Upon his arrival on the porch, she turned her head to look at him with a warm smile and he felt his eyes soften in a way reserved only for his family.

"Ned," She greeted, and he was reminded of the first time she greeted him upon returning from the war. It seemed like both yesterday and a lifetime ago. 

She reached to kiss him, briefly but meaningful, and they both let out a sigh as they pulled apart. 

For a moment they held each other's gaze. 

Their marriage had been a political one forged in a time of war and chaos, not born out of love. In fact, their hearts had belonged to other people at the time. But it was moments like this that the two could hardly picture a life without the other. 

They broke the trance at the same time, Ned joining their hands together as he leaned over the railing of the edge. 

Catelyn took a moment to study her husband. His eyebrows were furrowed and his face looked more sullen than usual. 

"Something the matter?" She asked him. 

"Last night, I received two letters concerning Minisa's hand." 

"Marriage betrothals?" Catelyn questioned, now more alert. 

Ned waved her off. There had been no official proposals. Just unofficially letting him know that they would be interested in such matches. "Nothing that serious." 

"Who were they from? What did they say?" 

"Tallhart and Hornwood. Lord Helman has requested a short fostering of him and his eldest son. To see if there is any potential in the match, no doubt." 

"You should consider the matches." Catelyn advised. 

"She's young Cat, there is much time to discuss such matters." 

" She won't be a little girl forever. And it's our responsibility to plan for her future."

Ned let out a breath. He knew his wife was right. The children were getting older and the time for betrothals and such would be upon them soon. He had already been receiving letters about Sansa and Robb for months. 

Minisa was different though. Arya was his youngest daughter and Rickon his youngest child, but Minisa, she was his baby. 

She had always been a sweet and sensitive girl with a big heart. Big and innocent. He did not think her weak, but the wolf's blood didn't run as deep in her as it did her other siblings. He worried for her. 

It had only gotten worse since the event with Theon in the library. He did not doubt the interaction between his ward and daughter was innocent, and he did not hold it against them.

Still, it had forced him to realize she was getting older. An idea that these letters further enforced. 

"I know." He responded to his wife. "I just wish for them to be like this for as long as possible."

Catelyn didn't think it a good idea to put off such important matters until they were unavoidable. Ned was a second son, raised to follow, but Catelyn was a first born. Her fathers heir until her brother Edmure had come along. She knew the way of the world and the importance of being in control of such things. But she relented. For now. 

She returned to looking at the field, forcing her eyes to skip over her husband's bastard. 

They were helping Bran with his archery. He had not too long ago started training and still needed much practice. 

He drew back the bow and aimed. 

Catelyn had never held a bow before but she had often watched Edmure and her Uncle Brynden shoot, and could tell his form was all wrong. 

As predicted, the arrow missed. It flew into the trees behind, not so much as grazing the target. 

The boys let out a laugh at him and little Bran's face flushed red in embarrassment. 

"And how many of you were marksmen at the age of ten?" Ned shouted from the balcony. 

Robb and Jon looked down sheepishly at the reprimand.

Ned and Catelyn shot Bran looks of encouragement. "Try it again." 

Bran drew back the bow again but before he could release it, another one shot from below, hitting the center perfectly. 

Catelyn looked towards its source to find Arya standing there smiling. She must've snuck out of her lessons with Minisa and Sansa. 

They all let out laughs, amused as Bran chased down his sister. 

Catelyn's youngest girl had always been difficult and unruly. She would have preferred her to be just a little bit more ladylike, but a bow was better than a sword, and years of motherhood had taught her to choose her battles carefully. 

Shortly after, a voice calls out from behind them. "Lord Stark." 

And just like that, the moment is broken. 

Ser Rodrik approaches with Theon in tow. He greets her upon arrival before turning back to Ned. 

"A guardsman just rode in from the hills. They've captured a deserter from the Night's Watch." 

In a little crook towards the woods of Winterfell, is a bloodwood tree. And under it sit Minisa, Sansa, and Jeyne, where they had been since the end of their sewing lessons earlier. 

Since discovering it at the age of five, it had been their secret spot where they hung out. Well, technically it wasn't a secret spot. Everyone knew the girls could be found there together, but no one ever bothered them. 

Minisa was sprawled out on the ground, looking up at the clouds while Sansa braided Jeyne's hair. 

The three were talking about Jeyne's upcoming nameday. The oldest of the three (by only a few months), she would be turning thirteen and her father had already begun making talks of betrothal. 

The two girls were excited for their friend, but she didn't seem to share their enthusiasm. She was of course excited at the prospect of an upcoming union (they had all spent years planning their own weddings), but the Poole's weren't a major house like the Starks. She would never get the kind of prospects as Sansa or Minisa, or even Arya. 

She tried not to be jealous of her friends, but sometimes it was really hard. 

"Do you have anyone in mind? Someone you fancy?" Sansa asks. 

Jeyne blushes. She had had a crush on the same guy for a while now, but she could never reveal the identity to Sansa or Minisa. It would be too embarrassing. "Yes." She admitted. 

Minisa's head piped up at that, turning to match gazes with her sister. Although they couldn’t actually hear each other's thoughts, they both felt each other's curiosity. Who did Jeyne fancy? 

"But I doubt anything will come of it." Jeyne waves them off. 

Before Minisa could question her, Arya came running at them. 

"Arya!" Sansa exclaimed. "This is a private space! No kids allowed." 

But she just ignored her. "Father just returned and he has a surprise for us. Come on!" she yelled with a smile, before taking off again. 

Minisa picked up her skirts and chased after her immediately, excitement coursing through her body. 

Arya wound up leading her to Father's study. She flung the door open, Minisa hot on her heels. 

Huddled around the middle of the room was Theon, Jon, and the rest of the Stark siblings. They all leaned over father’s desk examining something on it closely. 

Except for Theon, who stood straight with his hands crossed over his chest and a wary expression on his face. 

His eyes meet Minisa's as she enters the room and she goes to shoot him a smile, but before she can move her lips his attention is back on the desk. 

While everyone else had gone back to normal, her and Theon's relationship had not. 

The next day after she hugged him in the library, she went to apologize to him for getting him in trouble. He had accepted her apology and she had thought all was fine, but it wasn't. 

He was distant from her. Awkward. He would greet her when he had to and he would speak to her in polite sentences, which just felt wrong. 

Theon wasn't polite . He was cocky, and mischievous, and fun, and fearless. 

It hurt. She considered Theon a friend. A good friend. And she did not want to lose that. 

"Look 'Nisa" Rickon called out, pointing to the desk. His red curls bounced as he turned to her. 

Minisa came to get a closer look at what held their attention, and spotted something with fur on it. 

"What is it?" She asked. 

"Direwolves." Jon answered. "We spotted a litter of them on the way here." 

"There are no direwolves this far South of the wall." Said Sansa, who had finally caught up to the girls. 

"Well, there are now." Robb spoke for the first time, backing up so they could get a closer look. 

Jon and Robb both held one in their hands and on the table were five. Minisa glanced upon all of them, but she only really saw one. 

One layed in the middle of the pile, snuggling underneath the rest of her siblings. She had dark brown fur except for on her underbelly, which was tan. She was quiet, watching everything going on around her with an almost disinterest. 

She was perfect. 

Within minutes, the Stark children had all picked out their direwolf and one by one made their way out of the study to go play with them. 

Robb, Jon, and Minisa had been the last to leave until the two brothers eventually made their way out as well. 

It was only her and Then for a brief second before he realized it, and went to follow the boys. 

"Wait!" she called out, and to her surprise he actually paused. "I'm coming with you." 

Theon just stared at her blankly before rolling his eyes. "Come on then." 

Minisa picked up her direwolf and joined him. 

It was quiet at first as Minisa tried to figure out something to say. She kept glancing at his face, then back to the ground again, trying to will up some words. 

The young ward looked straight ahead, his face blank with disinterest but his mind filled with the exact opposite. 

He had been trying to put some distance between him and the middle Stark girl as of late. He had thought of them as something like friends, like Robb, but there was one key difference between Minisa and her brother. Minisa was a girl. A girl he was fond of, and thought was sort of pretty, and liked talking to and hugging, and after witnessing him crying she had comforted him without thought...

It was too confusing to be her friend. But she hadn't done anything wrong that called for him to be mean or completely separate from her. So they were at a weird middle ground. 

"How'd you guys find the direwolves?" She finally asked.

"Jon and Robb did. They heard them crying and called the rest of us over. I said they should have killed them."  Theon answered truthfully before cursing himself for his words. He should not talk to girls, especially sensitive, highborn ones about murdering pets. This was exactly what he meant by confusion.Theon wouldn't have cared if Robb would've have been appalled by such statements. But he does with Minisa.

But Minisa does not run off crying or look appalled. She simply shrugs.  "Well...I'm glad that you didn't." 

"What are you going to name her?" Theon asked, eager to change the topic of discussion. 

“Nori.” She fired back, taking herself by surprise. She did not know where the idea came from. The thought of picking a name hadn’t crossed her mind’s eye, but it came out naturally as if she was saying the name of a person she had known her whole life. 

She did not know when they had stopped walking, but the two had found themselves just standing there, Theon staring at Minisa with a strange expression on his face. 

“Like Iron backwards?” 

“Yes.” She nodded, “Like Iron backwards.”

Theon stared at her for a moment more. She had named her direwolf after him. Not directly after him, but still. A million thoughts swarming his head, none of them were safe. None of this was safe. He had to put a stop to it.

“Minisa. We can’t be friends anymore.” 

“...What?” She asked, looking at him with those blue-gray eyes filled with such confusion and hurt that it pained him. “Why not? Did I do something?” 

No. Yes . Theon is not sure what answer to give her. There’s the truth, but he cannot bring himself to say it outloud. He can’t even bring himself to say it in his thoughts. Because once he did, it’d be real. There’d be no going back. 

He could lie too. Tell her that they never were friends in the first place, or that all he saw when he looked at her was a reminder of all that’d been taken from him. His stomach churns at the thought of saying that and he knows that no matter what, his heart would never allow him to say such things. 

Instead, he settles on nothing. He leaves her there in the hall, her eyes full of sadness and his heart heavier than ever. 

Chapter Text

Minisa hummed quietly as she walked down the halls, her eyes to the ceiling and her face blank in a lost fashion. Such a normal sight that the servants and house staff passing by pay no mind to her, nor the box she holds in her hand.

She turns across one of the empty guest chambers, looks around to make sure the coast is clear and then enters, closing the door behind her.

Jeyne is already there waiting for her with her own box in hand. She jumps at the opening door but relaxes when she see's its just Minisa.

"She didn't see you right?" Jeyne asks.

"No, I've employed Arya to distract her all day."

At that, the two girls rip open their boxes at the same time. Revealed are two pieces of dark blue lace embroidered with intricate silver stitchings. The fabrics had been imported specially and the two girls had worked on them for the better part of a year, Minisa crafting the top and Jeyne the skirts. All that was left now was to attach the two parts.

It's a present for Sansa for her sixteenth nameday. A big occasion that Minisa could hardly wait for!

Many people outside the North considered them a solemn people who had no concept of fun, but just because they didn't have melee's or tourneys didn't mean they didn't know how to celebrate. Tomorrow would be testament to that.

The girls got to work sewing the two halves together. The work came easy but the conversation was a little bit more difficult.

Minisa and Jeyne weren't that close these days, diverging further apart with age. Sansa was the only thing liking them together. If not for her, Minisa doubts the two would even consider eachother friends.

It felt like half the day had wasted away and the two still weren't finished. 

"This is taking forever," Minisa sighed.

"Well, we would've had less to do if someone had showed up when they were supposed to yesterday." Jeyne shrugged, not digging at her but stating a fact.

" Sorry about that. My mother wanted to talk to me and Sansa and I couldn't get out of it."

"What did she want?"

"To discuss betrothal prospects. Benfred Tallhart for me." Minisa left out the part of Sansa's match. She didn't want to put anything into the air until it was final. 

It had mentioned their father had been in talk with the King about a potential union between their houses, but they had thought it was for Robb and Myrcella. It made the most sense. So imagine her and Sansa's surprise (and excitement) when their mother told them it had been for Sansa and Joffrey. Then, she topped it off by saying that her father had been discussing a  union for her as well. 

The conversation had not taken Minisa by surprise. In fact, she had eagerly awaited it.

While a late bloomer, she had bloomed. Her face had thinned out more, making her features more defined. Her knobby knees and thin frame had done the opposite of her face, instead filling out. She was not ignorant to the attention these changes had garnered her.

She was entering womanhood, and one of the things that came with that was marriage.

"It would be a good match. Are you excited?"

"Escatic," Minisa sighed happily.

Ever since she was little, she had dreamed of such love. The romance of being courted seemed so lovely. Walks through the gardens, stolen glances across tables, dances in the dining halls, him gifting her a flower, her gifting him a kiss.

Sure, Minisa did not know much about him besides him being very respectful. He had mostly stuck with the boys during the few times he visited Winterfell with his father. But unions had been built on less. She would remain optimistic.

"That's good. " Jeyne remarked.

Oh, Minisa guessed she had said that out loud.

"You can't truly know a person until you're in front of them, but you can get pretty close."

"What do you mean?"

"You should try to get to know more about him. His house, his family, what it like where he lives. That way you'll already be halfway there when you actually meet him."

"Oh Jeyne, that's a wonderful idea"

The young girl smiled at the praise, "So... Are your parents considering marriage prospects for the sons as well?"

"You mean Robb?" Minisa asks, but doesn't wait for answer. Of course she meant Robb, Rickon and Bran were too young to have serious marriage prospects, "Sansa says Wylla Manderly or Meera Reed is likely. Maybe Yara Greyjoy." Minisa shrugs, "Personally, I think they're going to leave the choice up to Robb."

"You think they'll let him marry who he wants?"

Minisa hummed in agreement, "It's not an urgent matter. We aren't at war and I have two more brothers in line right now. I don't see why not."

Jeyne nodded, going back to work. Minisa notes that she doesn't seem as annoyed as before, and her smile is one of contentment. 

"This news pleases you?" Minisa questions. 

Jeyne shrugs tense shoulders, her needlework suddenly becoming more interesting to her. Unusual, Jeyne does not give halfway answers and is not one to hold her tongue. She's nervous. Then, it dawns on Minisa. 

"You like Robb." 

It's a weird realization but not a surprising one. Robb was the heir to the North, far from ugly, and one of the best people Minisa knew. 

Jeyne looks up abruptly, "No, I do not." 

The behavior is the same as when Bran tells their mother he wasn't climbing, or Arya denies "borrowing" Bran's training sword. It's not convincing at all. 

"Yes you do," Minisa says evenly, leaving no room for argument though Jeyne still argues it. 

She allows herself to consider the idea of Robb and Jeyne. Jeyne is a good person. A little judgmental and she had the tendency to let her jealousy overcome her at times, but she was loyal. And caring. And nurturing. She had been a part of many of the same lessons as Minisa and her sister, and did well in them. She could run a household. She would treat Robb well, and he her. 

She stares at Jeyne and she see's it: the brown-haired girl stands in the snows of Winterfell, her arms linked with some man as she is marched to her awaiting betrothed. Around her is a cloak with a direwolf on it. 

"It is alright Jeyne," Minisa interrupts the girls ramblings, "I quite think the two of you would make a good match. " 

This takes the girl aback. After a few seconds she speaks up, her voice small, "...Really?" 

Minisa smiles, placing a hand on Jeyne's shoulder. "Really."

Minisa sits outside in the courtyard, Nori curled up into her side like a little puppy. Her dark brown fur had been growing longer (as all the direwolves were. A sign of it getting colder) and Minisa loved just loved to melt into the soft, warm hair. It was even more comfterable than her bed. 

On her lap she held some paper. Lately, she had gotten into the habit of writing down her imaginings. In front of her, she had written the vision she had of Jeyne and Robb. It wasn't great, and all you could really make out were two cloaked figures holding hands under the wierwood tree.

"Sister!" 

Looking up, she saw Robb and Theon stalking across to her. Greywind was hot on Robb's trail, a permanent shadow. Clad in their cloaks and riding shoes, they must've just returned from somewhere. 

"Robb," she greeted, then added on, "Theon." 

The ward inclined his head but otherwise said nothing. He barely did these days. He was neither mean nor friendly but simply was removed. She had mourned the loss of their friendship but had still yet to get used to it.

Nori peaked her head up at their arrival and arose from Minisa's side, wandering off to greet her own brother.

"What are you writing?"Robb asked, peaking over at her book. Minisa turned it around, showing him the page. 

"A wedding." He observed, "A little eager, aren't we? Nothing's even final yet." 

Oh, he thought the photo was about her. Good. She wouldn't have to explain why she was drawing pictures of him and Jeyne. 

"What are you two talking about?" Theon questioned, a confused look on his face. 

"Benfred Tallhart," Robb rolled his eyes. 

"Big-Neck Ben?"

Minisa almost laughed at the jape but felt it would not be proper to laugh at such a jape about her future husband.  She settled for a small smile and warned teasingly, "I'd watch myself Theon, that is my betrothed you're talking about." 

Theon's jaw ticked at that, probably annoyed at the reprimand. Unusual, considering he got chastised almost ten times a day and usually just let it roll off his back. 

"Almost betrothed," Robb reminded her. 

"Same difference." She waved him off, "Anyway, I think father is looking for you. Something about 'Lordly duties'." 

"Right, I'll see you later at dinner." 

Robb stalked off with Greywind on his heels. When she didn't see the back of Theon's figure following Robb she turned to find him staring at her intensely with a look she couldn't quite decipher. 

Before she could say anything, the Ironborn tore his eyes away from her and stomped off in the same direction Robb had gone. Not so much as saying goodbye. 

Minisa stared after him in frustration. She was not used to dealing with rudeness or being ignored, especially since she had not said anything out of the way to him. 

As if feeling her mood, Nori stalked towards Minisa and laid her head on her shoulder. Minisa hadn't known her face was scrunched up until she felt it soften. She moved her arm, making room for Nori to lay back down. 

Chapter Text

Lady was allowed at Sansa's nameday feast naturally,  but she was the only direwolf there. Minisa would've been put out by the absence of her own direwolf, but Nori was never one for large crowds of people. She would cling to her leg, whimpering whenever the voices or music got too loud for her sensitive ears. 

The air inside the room is suffocating in the best way possible. More people fill it than usual and sounds bounce off every wall. 

Her family was there, of course, all of her siblings and Jon. Maester Luwin is there, as well as other important Stark household members and a few of the other Lords and Ladies close to Winterfell.

She sat at a table with the other Sansa and the other ladies around their age, all making light conversation. 

"You should wear Orange more often sister, it suits you." Minisa complimented the redhead seated beside her, raising her voice slightly over the music. 

"Really? I was not sure--"

"Here Sansa!" before either girl could raise their head at the interruption, a small parcel was thrust into her lap. 

It was their younger siblings, Arya, Bran, and Rickon. 

"Well, open it!" Arya urged, her eyes wide in excitement. 

Sansa took her time properly unfolding the parcel rather than ripping it open. 

Arya rolled her eyes, prompting "Just get on with it,". Which only caused Sansa to go deliberately slower. 

As she pulled back the wrapping completely, a golden pin was revealed. Encrusted with beautiful stones of porcelain. 

Deciding now was the perfect time, Minisa shot Jeyne the secret look from across the table. The brown haired girl nodded, running to get the gift. 

Sansa thanked each of their siblings, all of whom looked rightfully proud of themselves and skittered off, pushing each other as they ran away. Minisa let out a chuckle at the sight. 

Moments later, Jeyne approached with the gift. 

"Okay, Now for your next gift." she said as Jeyne reaches them. 

Jeyne hands it to Sansa, and all three of them are giddy with anticipation. Sansa wastes no time in opening it, her smile getting bigger as she sees the beautiful fabric. She gets it all out, spreading it to see all of the dress. 

"We worked on it together!" Jeyne exclaims, shooting Minisa a proud smile. 

"I love it!" She raised out her chair, engulfing them both in a hug that made Minisa's heart melt and the callouses on her hands worth it. 

"Excuse me, girls," Their father showed behind them, a big smile on his face,  "May I borrow the nameday girl?" 

"Of course Father," Sansa lifted her skirts, grabbing his arm with the other.

Minisa watches as their father escorts Sansa to the middle of the floor, her first dance of the night. He's a little awkward in his movements but Sansa is absolute perfection. 

Suddenly, the vision in front of her changes. Sansa looks older. Not in years, like their mother, but like something had happened to age her. She had her hair up in some Southern fashion and she was kissing a golden-haired man in front of a septon. 

Minisa felt a chill run through her bones.

 It had to be the prince and Sansa getting married. It should've filled her with joy, but for some reason all she felt was terror. So much so that she could feel tears start to well up in her eyes. Her face feels hot and her throat tightens in the way it does when you try not to cry.

Someone beside her is uttering words that she hears but doesn't hear. The more they talk though, the clearer their voice becomes. 

"Minisa. Minisa-" The voice belongs to Jon. 

As expected, she is met with concerned grey eyes when she turns to the voice. 

"Hmm?" She answers, coming back to. 

"I asked If you were alright. You're shaking," He gestured towards her hands. 

They're shaking. All of her is shaking. Weird. Minisa hadn't felt it until he pointed it out. She looks around to see if anyone else has noticed, but all eyes are on the dancing father and daughter. 

She turns back towards her half-brother, who looks worried but unsure. She wonders if she should tell him about the vision. It feels important. She feels like she should tell someone, but the words get stuck in her throat. Speaking it would breathe life into its existence, and she didn't want that. 

She would erase it from her mind, she decides. Starting now. 

"I'm fine Jon." 

"Are you sure?" He asks, shifting from one foot to another, "I can get Robb, or Sans-" 

Minisa shakes her head no but stops at the dizziness of the motion. Instead, she takes a deep breath, trying to make herself as convincing as possible.

 "I'm fine Jon. Truly. I must've had too much wine." It's a lie. She has not had a drop of wine tonight. While delicious, it tended to do weird things to her mind. The last time she had wine at dinner she'd had a frightening dream about Jeyne and some dogs in an ... improper entanglement.  

Jon doesn't look convinced but drops it, never one to pry. 

She dances a lot that night. With her father, with her brothers, with Lord Poole. It's a merry occasion and she tries her best to feel the same, but the image of her sister and the golden-haired man refuses to leave her.

It's not long after that, that the Starks welcome new guests into their castle walls. 

They were guest but hardly the most important guest Winterfell had ever welcomed. Lord Stark and his wife were there to greet them as they greeted all official guests in their walls, and Robb was there because he was the heir. Those three were really the only ones required. 

Minisa and Sansa had taken it upon themselves to show up and meet Minisa's future husband. Theon was sad to say that they would be thoroughly disappointed. Minisa dreamed about the knights and Kings that they wrote songs and poems about. The pretty type, with flowery words and kind eyes. He had seen Benfred before and he was nothing of the sort. He was rude, loud, and awkward. Theon was sure Minisa would not like him.

Theon was there because he had nothing better to do and wanted to see the look of disappointment on Minisa's face when she saw him for herself. You know, strictly for curiosities sake. 

At the current moment though, Minisa is the very image of excitement. She practically floats, her hands clutching the bouquet of flowers so tight that they might bruise.

"Yellow flowers might seem a little childish," Sansa warns her. Theon would normally agree. With anyone else, flowers would seem childish and daft, but with Minisa it was something else. The flowers were wild and free and bright. 

Besides, Tallhart's the heir to a minor house. He should still count himself lucky that Minisa was greeting him at all. It did not matter if she greeted him in a dress made of flowers. How would a dress of flowers even work? She'd catch a chill, it'd offer hardly any coverage. You'd be able to see so much...

Theon cleared the thought from his head. 

"They're for him, not me."

Theon felt something ugly curl in his chest at the words. The thought of Minisa giving her flowers to the boy didn't sit right with him.

Soon enough, the Tallharts party arrives. It's not that big, mostly comprised of servants and house members. Then, Lord Tallhart descends from his horse followed by his son. 

Benfred Tallhart was still as awkward-looking as ever. With wild, yellow hair and a neck two sizer bigger than it should be. He was still tall but had put on weight. Not muscle or fat, simply weight. 

If Minisa is disappointed by the boy, she doesn't show it. Instead, she steps right forward. 

"My Lords, it is nice to see the two of you again. You're presence is very much welcomed and I hope you will enjoy your stay." 

The Tallhart boy who had been quiet before has now stepped up. He shuffled from foot to foot, his hand scratching the back of his neck and the faintest of blushes on his cheeks. The parents look happy as their children interact. Even Robb has the gall to look amused, the traitor. Theon thought he could at least count on him to be as put out as he was. 

"Hello Lady Minisa," Tallhart swallows, turning to greet Sansa before turning back to Minisa. "Thank you for welcoming me and my father into your home. I shall hope to see you around." 

"As do I." She smiles. 

"Well, we will let you get settled in. Come sister, we have things to do." Sansa finishes, giving a small nod before pulling her sister away. No doubt to talk about the boy. 

With the girls out of sight, Tallhart relaxes. It seems that he then registers Theon for the first time. 

"Oh, Hello Theon," He holds out his hand for Theon to shake. Theon takes it, squeezing it much harder than necessary. He smirks as the boy pulls his hand back sharply. 

"Hey! You're gonna break my hand, ass." 

"Benfred," His father chastises, though not seriously. 

Theon leans into the boy, taunting, "My apologies Benfred, I did not know you were so delicate."

He enjoys the angry flush that overtakes his face and with that, he leaves the party, clutching the flowers in his hand.

Minisa is eager to get to know Benfred. As her potential future betrothed, it's important to know what she might be getting herself into. Also, she hopes it might take her mind off her troubling visions.

The two have spent many afternoons walking around the yards and gardens of Winterfell. Her Septon is never far behind of course. 

Minisa has tried to goad him into conversation but so far he only provides bare, blank sentences. She usually ends up doing most, if not all of the talking. He'll occasionally interrupt her to ask questions, struggling to keep up with the rapid-fire words she spews in his direction. 

Benfred has yet to truly open up, but so far she likes what she's seen of him. He's awkward, a little uptight, easily embarrassed, easily frustrated, and easily angered. Yet, is mostly harmless. She enjoys teasing him, watching how his face goes from pale pink to completely red in a matter of a few seconds. 

"Blue is my favorite color. Blue and Pink." Minisa rattles off.  "If I had to create my own House right now, I'd use blue and pink for my house colors. And my symbol would be Nori of course." 

"Who is Nori?" He interrupts. 

Then it occurs to Nori that she hasn't introduced the two of them yet! An oversight on her part. 

"My direwolf. All of my siblings have one. I can't believe you have not met her." 

Benfred sputters in surprise as Minsa grabs his hand and takes off running, pulling him along. She can hear her Septa calling, but she'll be fine. They weren't going anywhere private.  

"Where are we going?" He asks. 

"You'll see." 

They to the training yard where Nori rests under a tree. It's mostly empty right now, bar a few household members like Ser Rickard, Jory, and Theon. Eyes flicker towards them upon arrival before looking away. Except for one pair of blue eyes that linger on them. 

Nori senses their presence before they get close. Her ears perk up, and a second later her head too, then she's running full speed to meet her owner. 

Benfred lets out a yelp, dropping her hand and Minisa just laughs. Nori reaches her, jumping on her as Minisa gives her a big hug. 

"That's a good girl," Minisa compliments as Nori gets down. "Now, I have someone I want you to meet. Nori, this is--" 

The spot beside her is now empty. She turns around, only to find Benfred's retreating figure running as fast as the wind. 

A pang of indignation flickers through Minisa at the sight of his retreating figure. What if Nori had truly been a beast? Would he have left her to be eaten alive?  She tries to taper it down, knowing that if she had come across a terrifying animal, she was prone to have the same response.

Laughs are heard from the men and she hears Theon call out, "Craven."

She goes to leave the courtyard, Nori silently following behind her. As she passes by, her eyes meet Theon's. One for appearances, he's clad in his fur-lined cloak, grey lambswool britches, and Kraken-embroidered doublet. His wild dark hair that's shorter than more Northmen wear is loose, and his typical cocky smile is in full effect. 

His expression is smug but a flicker of something crosses his face as they land on her. But it leaves as quickly as it comes and Theon looks away, going back to whatever it is he was doing before. 

Minisa continues on her way. 

------

Dinner is a quaint affair as always, the only difference being the presence of Lord Tallhart and Beren at the table. The Lord discusses things with her parents that she doesn't bother listening to, all the while Beren continues to sneak not-so-subtle glances in her direction. 

It would be sweet if her mind had not been elsewhere. Her vision of Sansa and Joffrey still troubles her. There were moments of happiness and calmness where she thought she had finally pushed it from her mind, but it would always return. 

She wished desperately for Nori to be at the dinner table with her. She always seemed to calm Minisa down. But mother had been strict that the direwolves be confined to the children's bedchambers tonight. Especially Shaggydog.

Her troubles must show on her face because her mother finds her after is dinner is over. 

She is walking back to her chambers when she hears her. 

"Minisa," the red-haired woman calls.

Minisa pauses her stride, allowing her to catch up before continuing. 

"Hello Mother," she answers in confusion. Her parent's chambers were the other way. "Is something the matter?" 

"I feel I should be asking you the same thing. You looked... not there, at dinner. More so than usual."

Minisa's heart feels a tug at the concern in her voice. "You do not have to worry about me, Mother,"

"Nonsense." Catelyn scoffed, "I have worried about you from the moment you came into my life and will continue to do so until the moment I leave yours. Maybe after. Now, what is the matter?"

After it becomes clear that she's not going to drop the subject, Minisa answers. 

"It's the betrothal. Sansa's betrothal." She clarified.

"What about Sansa's betrothal?"

"Well... I'm not exactly sure. Sansa will make a good and true queen. To live in King's Landing with all those Southern Knights and dances and tourneys. It's a dream come true and I want that for her very much."

"...But?" Catelyn questioned. 

" We've never spent more than a day apart. If she marries Prince Joffrey and moves to King's Landing, who knows how long it'll be until we see each other again? How am I going to know she's okay?"

The words tumble out of Minisa's mouth fast. She has not talked to anyone about this--besides Nori, but that's different-- and it feels nice to unburden. She usually talks to Sansa when she's troubled but she doesn't want to ruin her sister's excitement. 

"It's quite normal to be concerned about your sibling's union." She comforts, putting her arms around Minisa. 

"Really?"

Her mother nodded. "I remember when it was announced your Aunt Lysa was to marry Jon Arryn, a man older than our grandfather. I begged our father to reconsider all the way until the ceremony."

"Did he?"

"No. But everything turned out fine. Lord Arryn was a good and honorable man who did right by her and their son. The same will be true for your sister."

"And what if it's not?"

"Then your father and I will ride for King's Landing ourselves, tear down the Red Keep brick by brick, and bring her home."

"Promise?"

"Prom–"

"Lady Stark," a voice calls from down the hall. The two raise their head to find the Maester clad in his grey robes and chain. He makes his way towards them.

"Maester Luwin," Catelyn greeted and Minisa echoed her mother.

The old man nodded back, sending the daughter a small smile turning serious again. Turning to Catelyn, he pulled a letter from his robes. "From King's Landing My Lady."

Minisa's stomach drops. Was the betrothal official?

She watches as her mother scans the contents of the letter, her expression darkening with every word. She reaches the end, folds the letter back up, and nods to dismiss the man.

"What did it say, Mother?"

"Jon Arryn had died. The King is coming to Winterfell."