Hera's family was murdered in cold blood by their enemies. Hera got away and went to Winterfell, where the Starks lived. She knew she would be safe there, because Ned Stark and her father were close friends. Now, years later, she still live there...
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CHAPTER TWENTY THREE - ALL I NEED
Italics = flashback
Hera smiled mischievously at Cedrick, her sword in her hand. Her older brother grinned at her, swinging his own sword around. It was raining lightly, but none of them cared. Their older brother, Derron, stood at their side, watching them with amusement. Lexa stood beside him, her face showing interest. It was no secret that Cedrick and Hera were both competetive, always wanting to beat the other sibling.
The courtyard was empty, except for the Nyvell siblings and some guards and commonfolk. Their parents were somewhere inside the castle, probably doing the tasks that were requiered by the Lord and the Lady.
"Ready to lose?" Hera mockingly asked her brother, her lips upturned in a smirk. Cedrick rolled his emerald eyes in response.
"You're the one that's going to lose, dear sister."
Hera lifted an eyebrow in amusement, letting a laugh escape her. She glanced over at her other siblings who were grinning at them. "What do you think?"
"Don't look at me! I don't know!" Lexa exclaimed, throwing her hands up in defense. Derron rolled his eyes jokingly, muttering something about both of them being 'donkeys'.
Hera sighed, looking back at Cedrick. He held his sword up, awaiting her attack. She grinned, before she charged at him in full speed. They swords clashed together in a song as sharp as thorns. They fought back and fourth, none of them overpowering the other, for they were both excellent swordfighters.
"Tired yet?" Hera yelled over the sound of their swords clashing together.
Cedrick chuckled, "You wish!"
Hera ducked away from his blow, thrusting her own sword out. He sidestepped its sharp edge, letting the sword cut through the air. Hera huffed as she was being drained of energy. Cedrick was older than her, so he had an advantage.
Suddenly, his sword hit hers with such brutal force, her sword flew out of her hand. It landed in the mud a few feet away from herself, but she did not bother to pick it up. She looked at Cedrick through her wet eyelashes, pushing her damp chestnut hair out from her face.
Suddenly, loud claps sounded from behind them. Hera whipped around, getting emberrassed by the sight of her father standing there. He was dressed in breeches and a leather tunic, his sword strapped to his side. His curly dark hair were wet against his forehead, for it had been exposed to the rain. He smiled, his green eyes gleaming.
