"Right," Dylaine said, and "Low," and "Left," and "Left" again, faster and faster, moving forward. Lyanna retreated before him, checking each blow.

"Lunge," he warned, and when he thrust she sidestepped, swept his blade away, and slashed at his shoulder. She almost touched him, almost, so close it made her grin.

"Left," Dylaine sang out. "Low." His sword was a blur, and the training yard echoed to the clack clack clack. "Left. Left. High. Left. Right. Left. Low. Left. High!" he stopped and she stopped.

Dylaine trained Lyanna since she was four, she often trained with Robb and Jon all her life. Ser Rodrick even allowed her to train with the boys in the training yard. Dylaine had a brown hair like a mud colour, middle-aged, he wasn't the best, but he would beat Jon and Robb in melee.

"Nice, nice" Dylaine said, the wooden swords were quite heavy but it was the weight as normal swords. "Again, and strike me"

She has been trying to strike him for hours already, they've been on that for since morning after breaking their fast.

Reason why she had to practice early mornings was because of Bran, if he saw her practice fighting now, it would made him feel sadder, she knew how much becoming a knight meant to him, he could've been Robb's bannerman like their father said. Lyanna never knew who she wanted to be, all she wanted was to be normal, she was a noble born, true born, a Stark, one of the Nobelist houses in the world, she's a princess and the Lady of Winterfell. She wouldn't mind if she were a bastard, maybe if she were a bastard, she wouldn't worry about war, her job as the lady and responsibilities.

When she spotted Bran and Rickon coming out of the castle, she immediately told Dylaine to stop and it was enough for the day. "You fought well, m'lady" Dylaine said, "we shall continue tomorrow"

As she smiled at him, she glanced beside and saw Jojen with his sister, only Meera was sharpening her axe while he seemed he was watching Lyanna practicing all along. "Thank you, Dylaine"

Alebelly came forward, working the bellows for Mikken. "Maester wants you in the turret, m'lady princess. Also your lord brothers. There's been a bird from the king."

"From Robb?" Excited, Lyanna did not wait for Hodor, but ordered Alebelly to carry Bran. He was a big man, though not so big as Hodor and nowhere near as strong. By the time they reached the maester's turret he was red-faced and puffing, and both Walder Freys as well.

Maester Luwin sent Alebelly away and closed his door. "My lords, my lady" he said gravely, "we have had a message from His Grace, with both good news and ill. He has won a great victory in the west, shattering a Lannister army at a place named Oxcross, and has taken several castles as well. He writes us from Ashemark, formerly the stronghold of House Marbrand."

Rickon tugged at the maester's robe. "Is Robb coming home?"

"Not just yet, I fear. There are battles yet to fight."

"Was it Lord Tywin he defeated?" asked Bran.

"No," said the maester. "Ser Stafford Lannister commanded the enemy host. He was slain in the battle."

Lyanna had never even heard of Ser Stafford Lannister. She found himself agreeing with Big Walder when he said, "Lord Tywin is the only one who matters."

"Tell Robb I want him to come home," said Rickon. "He can bring his wolf home too, and Mother and Father." Though he knew Lord Eddard was dead, sometimes Rickon forgot . . . willfully, Lyanna suspected. Her little brother was stubborn as only a boy of four can be.

Lyanna was glad for Robb's victory, but disquieted as well. She remembered what Osha had said the day that her twin brother had led his army out Of Winterfell. He's marching the wrong way, the wildling woman had insisted.

"Sadly, no victory is without cost." Maester Luwin turned to the Walders. "My lords, your uncle Ser Stevron Frey was among those who lost their lives at Oxcross. He took a wound in the battle, Robb writes. It was not thought to be serious, but three days later he died in his tent, asleep."

Big Walder shrugged. "He was very old. Five-and-sixty, I think. Too old for battles. He was always saying he was tired."

Little Walder hooted. "Tired of waiting for our grandfather to die, you mean. Does this mean Ser Emmon's the heir now?"

"Don't be stupid," his cousin said. "The sons of the first son come before the second son. Ser Ryman is next in line, and then Edwyn and Black Walder and Petyr Pimple. And then Aegon and all his sons."

"Ryman is old too," said Little Walder. "Past forty, I bet. And he has a bad belly. Do you think he'll be lord?"

"I'll be lord. I don't care if he is."

Maester Luwin cut in sharply. "You ought to be ashamed of such talk, my lords. Where is your grief? Your uncle is dead."

"Yes," said Little Walder. "We're very sad."

They weren't, though. Lyanna got a sick feeling in her belly. They like the taste of this dish better than I do. She asked Maester Luwin to be excused along with her brothers.

"Very well." The Maester rang for help, Lyanna wanted to carry Bran herself but she was too sore from the practice. It was Osha who came, she carried Bran down the stairs and had no trouble at all.

"Osha," Bran asked as they crossed the yard as Lyanna followed. "Do you know the way north? To the Wall and . . . and even past?"

"The way's easy. Look for the Ice Dragon, and chase the blue star in the rider's eye." She backed through a door and started up the winding steps.

"And there are still giants there, and . . . the rest . . . the Others, and the children of the forest too?"

"The giants I've seen, the children I've heard tell of, and the white walkers . . . why do you want to know?"

"Did you ever see a three-eyed crow?"

"No." She laughed. "And I can't say I'd want to." Osha kicked open the door to his bedchamber and set him in his window seat, where he could watch the yard below. Lyanna sat down on his bed. She seemed to know why Bran was asking Osha the questions. He wanted know if the three-eyed crow existed. Jojen had really got into Bran's mind.

Alebelly was the only one who paid the warning any heed. He went to talk to Jojen himself, and afterward stopped bathing and refused to go near the well. Finally he stank so bad that six of the other guards threw him into a tub of scalding water and scrubbed him raw while he screamed that they were going to drown him like the frogboy had said. Thereafter he scowled whenever he saw Bran or Jojen about the castle, and muttered under his breath.

It was a few days after Alebelly's bath that Ser Rodrik returned to Winterfell with his prisoner, a fleshy young man with fat moist lips and long hair who smelled like a privy, even worse than Alebelly had. "Reek, he's called," Hayhead said when Lyanna asked who it was. "I never heard his true name. He served the Bastard of Bolton and helped him murder Lady Hornwood, they say."

The Bastard himself was dead, Lyanna learned that evening over supper. Ser Rodrik's men had caught him on Hornwood land doing something horrible and shot him down with arrows as he tried to ride away. They came too late for poor Lady Hornwood, though. After their wedding, the Bastard had locked her in a tower and neglected to feed her. Lyanna had heard men saying that when Ser Rodrik had smashed down the door he found her with her mouth all bloody and her fingers chewed off.

"The monster has tied us a thorny knot," the old knight told Maester Luwin. "Like it or no, Lady Hornwood was his wife. He made her say the vows before both septon and heart tree, and bedded her that very night before witnesses. She signed a will naming him as heir and fixed her seal to it."

"Vows made at sword point are not valid," the maester argued.

"Roose Bolton may not agree. Not with land at issue." Ser Rodrik looked unhappy. "Would that I could take this serving man's head off as well, he's as bad as his master. But I fear I must keep him alive until Robb returns from his wars. He is the only witness to the worst of the Bastard's crimes. Perhaps when Lord Bolton hears his tale, he will abandon his claim, but meantime we have Manderly knights and Dreadfort men killing one another in Hornwood forests, and I lack the strength to stop them." The old knight turned in his seat and gave Lyanna a stern look. "And what have you been about while I've been away, my lady princess? Commanding our guardsmen not to wash? Do you want them smelling like this Reek, is that it?"

"The sea is coming here," Bran blurted before she could say something. "Jojen saw it in a green dream. Alebelly is going to drown."

Maester Luwin tugged at his chain collar. "The Reed boy believes he sees the future in his dreams, Ser Rodrik. I've spoken to Bran about the uncertainty of such prophecies, but if truth be told, there is trouble along the Stony Shore. Raiders in longships, plundering fishing villages. Raping and burning. Leobald Tallhart has sent his nephew Benfred to deal with them, but I expect they'll take to their ships and flee at the first sight of armed men."

"Aye, and strike somewhere else. The Others take all such cowards. They would never dare, no more than the Bastard of Bolton, if our main strength were not a thousand leagues south." Ser Rodrik looked at Bran. "What else did the lad tell you?"

"He said the water would flow over our walls. He saw Alebelly drowned, and Mikken and Septon Chayle too."

Ser Rodrik frowned. "Well, should it happen that I need to ride against these raiders myself, I shan't take Alebelly, then. He didn't see me drowned, did he? No? Good."

It heartened Lyanna to hear that. Maybe they won't drown, then, she thought. If they stay away from the sea.

Meera thought so too, later that night when she and Jojen met Bran and Lyanna in his room to play a four-sided game of tiles, but her brother shook his head. "The things I see in green dreams can't be changed."

That made his sister angry. "Why would the gods send a warning if we can't heed it and change what's to come?"

"I don't know," Joien said sadly.

"If you were Alebelly, you'd probably jump into the well to have done with it! He should fight, and Bran should too."

"Me?" Bran seemed suddenly afraid. "What should I fight? Am I going to drown too?"

Meera looked at him guiltily. "I shouldn't have said . . . "

Lyanna could tell that she was hiding something. "Did you see me in a green dream?" she asked Jojen nervously. "Was I drowned?"

"Not drowned." Jojen spoke as if every word pained him. "I dreamed of the man who came today, the one they call Reek. You and your brothers lay dead at his feet, and he was skinning off your faces with a long red blade."

Meera rose to her feet. "If I went to the dungeon, I could drive a spear right through his heart. How could he murder Lyanna and Bran if they were dead?"

"The gaolers will stop you," Joien said. "The guards. And if you tell them why you want him dead, they'll never believe."

"I have guards too," Bran reminded them. "Alebelly and Poxy Tym and Hayhead and the rest."

Jojen's mossy eyes were full of pity. "They won't be able to stop him, Bran. I couldn't see why, but I saw the end of it. I saw you, Lyanna and Rickon in your crypts, down in the dark with all the dead kings and their stone wolves."

"If I went away . . . to Greywater, or to the crow, someplace far where they couldn't find me . . . "

"It will not matter. The dream was green, Bran, and the green dreams do not lie."