It had been the night of the welcoming feast, when King Robert had brought his court to Winterfell. Visenya still reigned then. Her parents had shared the dais with Robert and his queen, with her brothers beside her. Uncle Benjen had been there too, all in black. Lyanna and his brothers and sisters sat with the king's children, Joffrey and Tommen and Princess Myrcella, who'd spent the whole meal gazing at Robb with adoring eyes. Arya made faces across the table when no one was looking; Sansa listened raptly while the king's high harper sang songs of chivalry, Bran laughed at Lyanna's joke when making fun of the fat King and Rickon kept asking why Jon wasn't with them. "because he's a bastard" Lyanna muttered to her baby brother.

And now they are all gone. It was as if some cruel god had reached down with a great hand and swept them all away, her little sisters to captivity, Jon to the Wall, Robb and Mother to war, King Robert and Father to their graves, and perhaps Uncle Benjen as well . . .

Even down on the benches, there were new men at the tables. Jory was dead, and Fat Tom, and Porther, Alyn, Desmond, Hullen who had been master of horse, Harwin his son . . . all those who had gone south with his father, even Septa Mordane and Vayon Poole. The rest had ridden to war with Robb, and might soon be dead as well for all Lyanna knew. She liked Hayhead and Poxy Tym and Skittrick and the other new men well enough, but she missed her old friends.

She looked up and down the benches at all the faces happy and sad, and wondered who would be missing next year and the year after. She might have cried then, but she couldn't. She was the Stark in Winterfell, her father's daughter and Lady of Winterfell.

At the foot of the hall, the doors opened and a gust of cold air made the torches flame brighter for an instant. Alebelly led two new guests into the feast. "The Lady Meera of House Reed," the rotund guardsman bellowed over the clamor. "With her brother, Jojen, of Greywater Watch."

Men looked up from their cups and trenchers to eye the newcomers. Lyanna heard Little Walder mutter, "Frogeaters," to Big Walder beside him.

Ser Rodrik climbed to his feet. "Be welcome, friends, and share this harvest with us." Serving men hurried to lengthen the table on the dais, fetching trestles and chairs.

"Who are they?" Rickon asked. The Reed boy had his eyes upon Lyanna, Bran and Rickon's table.

"Mudmen," answered Little Walder disdainfully. "They're thieves and cravens, and they have green teeth from eating frogs."

Maester Luwin crouched between Bran and Lyanna's seat to whisper counsel in their ear. "You must greet these ones warmly. I had not thought to see them here, but . . . you know who they are?"

Lyanna nodded. "Crannogmen. From the Neck." She gaze at the two Crannogmen as they approached to her.

"Howland Reed was a great friend to your father," Ser Rodrik told him. "These two are his, it would seem."

As the newcomers walked the length of the hall, Lyanna saw that one was indeed a girl, though she would never have known it by her dress. She wore lambskin breeches soft with long use, and a sleeveless jerkin armored in bronze scales. Though near Lyanna's age, she was slim as a boy, with long brown hair knotted behind her head and only the barest suggestion of breasts. A woven net hung from one slim hip, a long bronze knife from the other; under her arm she carried an old iron greathelm spotted with rust; a frog spear and round leathern shield were strapped to her back.

Her brother was few years younger and bore no weapons. All his garb was green, even to the leather of his boots, and when he came closer Lyanna saw that his eyes were the color of moss, though his teeth looked as white as anyone else's. Both Reeds were slight of build, slender as swords and scarcely taller than Bran. They went to one knee before the dais. Jojen Reed looked tall near same height as Lyanna. The boy did looked at Lyanna mostly...or he may have looked at her all along since he came into the hall.

"My lords, and my lady of Stark," the girl said. "The years have passed in their hundreds and their thousands since my folk first swore their fealty to the King in the North. My lord father has sent us here to say the words again, for all our people."

She was looking at Bran. Lyanna had to nudge his arm to say something. "My brother Robb is fighting in the south," he said, "but you can say your words to me and my sister, if you like."

"To Winterfell we pledge the faith of Greywater," they said together. "Hearth and heart and harvest we yield up to you, my lord and lady. Our swords and spears and arrows are yours to command. Grant mercy to our weak, help to our helpless, and justice to all, and we shall never fail you."

"I swear it by earth and water," said the boy in green.

"I swear it by bronze and iron," his sister said.

"We swear it by ice and fire," they finished together.

Lyanna groped for words. Bran nudged Lyanna with no one looking. Was she supposed to swear something back to them? She was the Lady of Winterfell, twin sister of Robb's, the eldest daughter of Eddard's and Catelyn's. Their oath was not one she had been taught. "May your winters be short and your summers bountiful," she said. That was usually a good thing to say. "Rise. I'm Lyanna Stark, and my little brothers, Brandon and Rickon Stark."

The girl, Meera, got to her feet and helped her brother up. The boy stared at Lyanna all the while. "We bring you gifts of fish and frog and fowl," he said.

"We thank you." Lyanna welcomed him a warm smile and wondered if she would have to eat a frog to be polite. "I offer you the meat and mead of Winterfell." She tried to recall all he had been taught of the crannogmen, who dwelt amongst the bogs of the Neck and seldom left their wetlands.

They were a poor folk, fishers and frog-hunters who lived in houses of thatch and woven reeds on floating islands hidden in the deeps of the swamp. It was said that they were a cowardly people who fought with poisoned weapons and preferred to hide from foes rather than face them in open battle. And yet Howland Reed had been one of Father's staunchest companions during the war for King Robert's crown, when Lyanna and Robb were born.

The boy, Jojen, looked about the hall curiously as he took his seat. "Where are the direwolves?"

"In the godswood," Rickon answered. "Shaggy was bad."

"My brother would like to see them," the girl said.

Lyanna and Bran exchanged looks. Little Walder spoke up loudly. "He'd best watch they don't see him, or they'll take a bite out of him."

"They won't bite if we're there." Bran said, while Lyanna was pleased that they wanted to see the wolves. "Summer and Visenya won't anyway, and they'll keep Shaggydog away."

She was curious about these mudmen. She could not recall ever seeing one before. Her father had sent letters to the Lord of Greywater over the years, but none of the crannogmen had ever called at Winterfell. She would have liked to talk to them more, but the Great Hall was so noisy that it was hard to hear anyone who wasn't right beside you.

Ser Rodrik was right beside Bran. "Do they truly eat frogs?" he asked the old knight.

"Aye," Ser Rodrik said. "Frogs and fish and lizard-lions, and all manner of birds."

Maybe they don't have sheep and cattle, Lyanna thought. She commanded the serving men to bring them mutton chops and a slice off the aurochs and fill their trenchers with beef-and-barley stew. They seemed to like that well enough. Lyanna caught Bran looking at the Meera girl. Bran quickly looked away when Meera caught him, then Bran saw Lyanna smiling and she wanted to make fun of him.

"Shut up" he groaned.

Much later, after all the sweets had been served and washed down with gallons of surnmerwine, the food was cleared and the tables shoved back against the walls to make room for the dancing. The music grew wilder, the drummers joined in, and Hother Umber brought forth a huge curved warhorn banded in silver. When the singer reached the part in "The Night That Ended" where the Night's Watch rode forth to meet the Others in the Battle for the Dawn, he blew a blast that set all the dogs to barking.

Two Glover men began a spinning skirl on bladder and woodharp. Mors Umber was the first on his feet. He seized a passing serving girl by the arm, knocking the flagon of wine out of her hands to shatter on the floor. Amidst the rushes and bones and bits of bread that littered the stone, he whirled her and spun her and tossed her in the air. The girl squealed with laughter and turned red as her skirts swirled and lifted.

Others soon joined in. Hodor began to dance all by himself, while Lord Wyman asked little Beth Cassel to partner him. For all his size, he moved gracefully. When he tired, Cley Cerwyn danced with the child in his stead. Ser Rodrik approached Lady Hornwood, she accepted to dance with him. Lyanna and Bran clapped and laughed as they watched them dancing, they haven't smiled like that for a while, they could use a bit of fun to take their minds off. She saw the boy, Jojen Reed looking at her across the hall, he did not look away when she caught him, but she did, hoped he will do the same.

"Why haven't you danced?" Bran asked Lyanna.

She shook her head, "I don't know how" she replied. She would like to dance, but does not know how.

"I want to! I want to!" Rickon jumped out.

"Go ask Hodor" Lyanna said.

Rickon went to Hodor, he picked the boy up as Rickon laughed loudly.

When Lyanna became flustered by wine, she was hot and tired. her crippled little brother nudged her, "Can I go?" he muttered. Lyanna knew Bran was too sad to watch people dancing, it was something he will never do, that was the most reason why she did not want to dance, he would be even more sadder if she left to dance, she understood, she asked Maester Luwin to look after Rickon and he nodded. Lyanna crouched down, letting Bran to climb on her back, wrapped his arms around her shoulder and held on tightly as she took his legs in her arms.

"You didn't had to" Bran said as they were out of the hall, music can be heard, "I could've asked Hodor to take me instead"

"It's fine" she told him, "I'm tired anyways"

"I know why you didn't want to dance" he muttered, "it's me, isn't it?"

"We can dance right now" She smiled, she spun once as she walked and hummed once of the songs that played in the hall then spun around again.

"Stop" Bran half laughed and half groaned.

Lyanna laughed as they made their way up the stairs to Bran's chambers.

"What do you think about these Reed children?" Bran asked.

"They're okay" she said, "I think everyone just misunderstand them"

"Yeah, I like them too"

"You mean, Meera?" She teased.

She felt him pinching her on her shoulder.

"Ow" she laughed.

"Jojen was looking at you" he said.

"He's a boy" Lyanna said, she and Robb were both fifteen, their nameday happened when their father left to King's Landing.

"He's thirteen" he said.

When they arrived at Bran's chambers, ignoring what he said, she said "Alright, here we are now" She put him down on his bed, he took off his heavy clothing and wore his sleeping clothing. Then Lyanna tucked him in. "Good night, Bran"

"Good night, Lyanna"

Before Lyanna went to her chambers, she ordered two guards to stay outside of Bran's chambers to protect her crippled brother. Once she was on her bed, immediately falling asleep...

The intruders had pushed a few yards into the wood when he came upon them; a female and a young male, with no taint of fear to them, even when she showed them the white of her teeth. Her brothers growled low in their throat, yet still they did not run.

"Here they come," the female said. Meera. Some part of her whispered, some wisp of the sleeping girl lost in the wolf dream. "Did you know they would be so big?"

"They will be bigger still before they are grown," the young male said, watching them with eyes large, green, and unafraid. "The black one is full of fear and rage, but the grey is strong . . . stronger than he knows. The grey-white one is so gentle and smarter than the others . . . can you feel her, sister?"

"No," she said, moving a hand to the hilt of the long brown knife she wore. "Go careful, Jojen."

"She won't hurt me. This is not the day I die." The male walked toward them, unafraid, and reached out for his muzzle, a touch as light as a summer breeze.