Lyanna Reed makes her first trip to Winterfell in years with her father, before being given the choice to foster there to find a more suitable husband. But years' worth of feelings for one of her closest friends tear at her heart when suitors start...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Lyanna's dress was one her lady mother had given her for her last nameday: rich emerald silk with a lizard sewn delicately onto the front in black thread that glinted in the late summer sun. A thick fur was wrapped around her, her dark hair hung freely down past her shoulders, with only a woven band to keep it flying into her face.
Lord Howland Reed, her father and Lord of Greywater Watch, rode beside her on the last stretch of their journey, his grey mare wickering slightly as she traversed the grass.
She hadn't made the trip to Winterfell in years, but the laughter of her, Jon and Robb as they raced through muddy puddles in the godswood rang clearly in her mind, along with the echoes of their blunt swords clashing together as they trained on horseback and the constant scolding of Septa Mordane, as the boys had spoiled yet another one of her lovely dresses.
It had been closer to ten years than five, and she was no longer the small girl that delighted in causing mischief. Now, she was a woman grown, though her cheeky smile still pulled at her lips.
"My lord," Ser Arthur Yronwood called as he pointed to the keep that had just loomed into view. "Winterfell."
Lyanna turned to grin at Alea Mormont, her closest friend and handmaiden, who was riding beside her.
After her father's exile to Essos, the title of Lady of Bear Island was rightfully hers, despite her being mere months old. Her great-aunt Maege Mormont ruled in her stead as castellan, but when Alea had come of age, she had ridden as south as the North would permit and offered her services to Lord Howland, as if it had been her that had been stripped of her land and titles.
Banners of the direwolf on a field of green hung over the stone parapet of their liege lord's keep, billowing in the gentle wind. The large gates swung open to admit them.
Sansa's flaming hair was the first thing she saw, pinned back into a simple braid; she had been but five the last time Lyanna had seen her, whining that Arya was annoying her again. Lord Eddard smiled warmly beside his wife as the Reeds drew their horses to a halt, the crannogmen effortlessly sliding from their steeds.
The Starks were standing in a line with their backs to the keep behind them, the rest of their household bordering the courtyard. Lord Eddard and Lady Catelyn were at the end, bar for one small child who Lyanna assumed was Rickon (as he hadn't been born the last time she was there). Bran was at the other end of the line, then Arya, who seemed about as thrilled to be in a dress as Lyanna was, then Sansa and Robb, all cloaked in warm furs.
When he smirked at her, he still had his same boyish grin, though his curly hair was no longer solely brown, but flecked with Tully copper - just as his eyes held their deep and piercing Tully blue - and the first scraggles of a beard were beginning to grace his face.
Lord Reed led his oldest daughter to Lord Stark, him bowing and her curtsying to the Warden of the North.
"Howland," the overlord greeted with a laugh, clapping his old friend on the shoulder and pulling him into a tight embrace. "Eight years is too long."
