Rickard Stark, Lord of the North

Lyanna and Laisen had sneaked out together. For the past few days, she had been waging a one-sided cold war against her father.

A raven had arrived a few days earlier with a letter from Robert Baratheon, the future Lord of the Stormlands. Baratheon had clearly been mad with joy over their betrothal, to the point of speaking without thinking.

Try telling a girl in the modern world, "Although I'm involved with lots of people, both physically and emotionally, I love you too..."

Lord Rickard aside, her mother knew perfectly well that Lyanna disliked the man, yet still forced her to learn to embroider countless wedding gowns and work with all sorts of tailoring patterns, as well as how to navigate noble society and manage her husband's lands...

As for the young girl's hopes and longing for love, the lady of the castle merely stroked her head affectionately.

Lyanna had been so angry that she had ridden out with her friend. Who could have expected that she would rescue a snow-white wolf in the dark, silent wilderness of the forest that very night?

When Lyanna and Laisen returned to Winterfell with Ghost, her mother was pacing in distress. Lord Rickard did not know that she had run away and stayed out all night, though even if he had known, he would not have bothered.

Ned and little Benjen were training in the practice yard when they saw Lyanna come riding back like the wind. Benjen tossed aside his little wooden sword and ran over.

"My sister's back! My sister's back!"

Ned did not dare run over. Ser Rodrik was still watching him. He could only raise his stiff arms and call to his brother, "Ben, come back. You've barely practiced at all."

Lyanna deftly pulled her horse around. It turned in place and gave a loud snort. She hopped lightly down and stroked its head, then picked up her little brother with difficulty.

"You've been slacking off again. But I haven't brought you any treats today." The boy was getting heavier and heavier. She could barely lift him anymore.

Ben puffed out his cheeks unhappily, but Lyanna changed tack. "But I did bring back a pretty doggy!"

Ben let out a "Wow!" and began pestering Lyanna with questions. She had to tell him that the doggy was hurt and would need a few days before it could play with him, then mercilessly dumped Ben back in the practice yard.

Lyanna had Laisen put Ghost in her room, then hurried off to find Maester Luwin.

Maester Luwin's room often gave off a strange smell of raven droppings mingled with bitter medicine. It was filled with ancient books and scrolls that might have been as old as he was. Many of those books never saw the light of day and were badly decayed by worms and mold.

Apart from a narrow plank bed, almost everything in the room was for his work-an herb bench, a worktable, and, most of all, bookshelves and piles of books.

Perhaps all maesters from the Citadel were this rigid and dull, Lyanna often thought.

But she was very interested in the maester's methods of training ravens, and he knew many legends and tales of Westeros. As a child, she had loved pestering Maester Luwin with questions, especially about the legends of heroic kings.

Maester Luwin was writing and drawing on a scroll while carefully storing finely ground powders in small bottles.

A flurry of footsteps sounded along the hardwood corridor. Lyanna charged in like a little pony, throwing the door open with a bang and bringing in a gust of cold air.

"Maester Luwin, please help. My little wolf is hurt."

Maester Luwin looked up in surprise. The heavy black metal links on his chest struck together with a clear clink. "I didn't know you had a wolf. It seems I haven't been outside in far too long."

Lyanna hastily dragged Luwin out, without even giving the maester time to take his tools.

Maester Luwin was momentarily dazed when he saw Ghost-he had never seen a wolf in the North with such a pure coat. In the firelight, it gave off a faint silver glow, dazzling and beautiful.

And this wolf was clearly much larger than ordinary breeds. Was it a direwolf? There had been no sign of direwolves in the inhabited parts of the North for many years.

The white wolf was rather badly hurt, though the two arrow wounds were not the main concern. The real problem was that the arrow in the forelimb wound had been pulled out roughly, causing too much blood loss.

The maester examined the white wolf's wounds, took out his tools, and carefully dug the arrow out of the wolf's back. After washing the wound with boiled wine, he bandaged it. All that remained was to wait for the wolf to recover on its own.

The maester wiped his hands clean. "It must have escaped a hunter with its life. Judging by her teeth, she's still a young wolf."

Lyanna's brows drew tightly together, almost knotting. After wrestling with herself for a while, she asked, "Maester Luwin, do you think there really are skinchangers beyond the Wall?"

Luwin nodded, then shook his head. "According to the Citadel's records, one skinchanger is born among every thousand First Men. They can use their minds to control any animal. Thousands of years ago, skinchangers and the Children of the Forest were everywhere."

Luwin turned toward the heart tree in the castle and sighed softly. "Not anymore. They've all disappeared. No one has seen a skinchanger or the Children of the Forest."

There was, in fact, another legend that even he considered poorly founded-the Citadel's secret texts had once recorded: [One skinchanger is born among every thousand people of First Men blood, and only one greenseer is born among every thousand skinchangers.]

Greenseers possessed nature magic and greensight, and were almost all-knowing. They could even see the future.

Lyanna turned to look at Ghost. His breathing had grown much steadier. There probably would not be any major problems. Wolves were far hardier than humans.

But how could she explain the cry for help she had heard in the Wolfswood, and that strange human figure?

Had it really been so dark that the shadows of the trees and the sound of the wind had made her hallucinate?

Maester Luwin packed up his things and cautioned Lyanna in a serious tone, "Although this is still a young wolf, it's already large enough to kill a grown adult easily. You'd best keep it caged, then release it into the Wolfswood once its wounds have healed a little."

Lyanna did not agree at once. Hesitantly, she asked another question. "Maester Luwin, if there are skinchangers who can control animals, could there also be animals that can turn into humans? Like werewolves?"

Maester Luwin laughed heartily and teased her. "Does Lady Lyanna still enjoy listening to old grannies tell stories of strange creatures?"

"I'll be going now. Have Laisen bring you a cage and move the wolf to the stables."

Lyanna was a little disappointed, but still thanked him politely. "Thank you, Maester Luwin."

Lyanna remained distracted all the way through dinner. She did not even notice Benjen making mischief by putting all his carrots into her bowl.

The atmosphere at House Stark's dinner table had been somewhat tense lately because of Lyanna's quarrel with her father. Only the careless Brandon and her little brother Benjen were still laughing and joking without a care.

"Lyanna, I heard you caught a beautiful snow wolf?" Brandon asked as he wolfed down his food.

Brandon took after his father, with a slightly long face, thick brows, and large eyes. He was tall and powerfully built, and somewhat rough in his manners. But he was a formidable swordsman, and Ser Rodrik's favorite pupil.

When teaching swordsmanship, Ser Rodrik liked nothing better than to use Brandon as an example while scolding the young nobles who did not practice seriously.

Only after Brandon called to her several times did Lyanna respond, nodding. "Yes. I rescued it in the Wolfswood. I want to keep it."

Lord Rickard Stark chewed hard on the tough beef in his mouth and interjected, "Maester Luwin told me it seems to be a rare direwolf?"

Before Lyanna could speak, Ned's eyes widened in surprise. "Is that true? A direwolf?"

"Yes." Lyanna turned to look at Ned. "I like it very much."

The implication was that none of them should get any ideas. It was hers.

Brandon muttered something about her being stingy, and Ned wilted too. Benjen, meanwhile, clamored to see the "white doggy."

Their mother, Lady Lyarra Stark, expressed her concern. "What if it hurts you? I heard from the master of horse that unless you raise a wolf from birth, it's very difficult to tame."

"Mother, don't worry. If I really can't tame it, I'll release it into the Wolfswood."

Lady Lyarra wanted to say more, but Lord Rickard cut her off roughly. "Enough. It's only a wolf. The children of House Stark aren't that useless."

Seeing him frown, the children lowered their heads and obediently ate without another word.

Rickard Stark watched Lyanna in silence. The thought that his darling daughter would one day leave the North for that wretched place battered by wild storms all year round left him somewhat reluctant, too.

He spoke slowly. "If you really like it, keep it. Have the steward help you work something out."

Lyanna finally smiled, her voice as bright as a little bird's. "Thank you, Father."

As soon as Lyanna finished eating, she ran back to her room to write and draw. She wanted to give her little wolf a name.

Her younger brothers came to join in the fun, coming up with a pile of strange-sounding names. Benjen even named it after his favorite fruit-white sweetberry.

Lyanna sighed at the jumble of names on the paper. Forget it. Let it choose for itself.

That night, Lyanna had a dream that made her blush and her heart race.

In the dream, she was surrounded by ice roses, yellow lilies, and daisies stretching everywhere. She rode her beloved horse, racing freely with the white wolf.

In the brilliant, dazzling golden sunlight, a tall figure led a white horse down the hillside toward her, backlit by the sun.

She strained to see his face, but the ground before her suddenly split apart, and both she and he fell.

Lyanna jolted awake and found that she had rolled onto the floor, wrapped in her blankets.

It was still dark. She scratched her head, yawned, and climbed back into bed, hoping there was still time to pick up where the dream had left off.

But the dream changed. She dreamed that the womanizing Robert Baratheon had turned into a black wild boar and chased her everywhere...

When she got up the next morning, Lyanna still wore a dark expression. Damn Robert Baratheon. He even came to spoil my dreams.

She hated him even more!

There was a soft knock at the door, and a maid came in carrying water and clothes. "Lady Lyanna, Steward Olf is waiting outside."

Lyanna perked up and jumped out of bed barefoot. Last night, she had told the master of horse to let her know as soon as the little wolf woke.

"Help me get dressed. Hurry, hurry." She could not wait to see her little darling.