𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 | The pups

{ Lyra }

✧✦✧

𝕷yra smiled down at her brothers in the courtyard, watching as Bran tried his best to pull the bow string back to his cheek. It was a struggle for the boy, who just hadn't built up enough arm muscle to be able to draw the bow yet. She winced, as the arrow missed the target completely and embedded itself into the wall behind.

Robb and Jon snorted quietly, turning away to hide their laughter as they tried to contain themselves. The youngest of the four boys, Rickon, did not even bother to hide the peals of laughter that he let out which made Bran look even more put out that he already had.

"And which one of you was a marksman at ten?" Lyra almost jumped at the sound of her father's voice, as he placed a hand on her shoulder and raised an eyebrow at the boys. The three laughing ones immediately turned around to avoid their father's sharp gaze. Bran looked up at him in awe. "Keep practicing, Bran."

"Robb, didn't you hit a soldier in the arm when you were ten? I could have sworn that he was behind you," Robb span around to glare back up at her, his cheeks slowly flushing to a shade of red that was similar to his hair. Lyra grinned, ignoring her father's warning squeeze on her shoulder.

"How was husband hunting, sister dearest?" The flushed hue of Robb's cheek died down, as he smirked up at his sister. The remainder of the boys looked between the pair, though Jon raised an eyebrow at their childish bickering.

"Lovely. How's your betrothed?" Lyra replied, her eyes flashing. Robb grew tired, flipping his middle finger at the girl as she made a move to retaliate.

"Lyra!" The girl froze at her mother's voice, turning around to slowly to face the woman's disapproving stare. "You're a lady, act like one. Robb, stop antagonizing your sister!"

Catelyn Stark glared over the parapet at her oldest son as well, who gulped and looked away. Her glare was one that had been perfected over the years. Both Lyra and Robb had seen it on many occasions, normally directed at them whenever the woman found them partaking in mischief or causing mayhem.

"Yes, mother," Robb muttered, as the wooden floor boards beneath Lyra's feet suddenly became incredibly interesting.

"Keep practicing, Bran. Go on," Lyra looked up at her father, who was swiftly changing the subject. Eddard Stark smiled down at her briefly, before turning back to watch the boys with interest. 

"Don't think too much, Bran," The young boy was beginning to notch an arrow as Jon spoke. Robb tilted their younger brother's arm upwards a bit further.

"Relax your bow arm," Bran pulled back further, straining under the tension, before an arrow whistled through the air and thudded into the bullseye. 

There was a stunned silence for a second, before Bran threw down his bow and Arya sprinted out from beneath the balcony. Lyra started to laugh first, the boys following and cheering Bran on as he tried to catch Arya. It was a losing game. Arya was older and faster than Bran, despite being in a dress.

"Lord Stark," Their master-at-arms, Ser Roderick Cassel, called, causing the three Starks on the balcony to spin around. "My lady, my lady. A guardsmen just rode in from the hills, they captured a deserter from the Night's Watch."

Lyra watched as her father sighed, their ward, Theon Greyjoy, appearing on his other side. He glanced down at the boys for a moment.

"Get the lads to saddle their horses," He told Theon. The Greyjoy boy had been the ward of the Starks for near to eight years now. Lyra had grown up with him, though she wasn't too close with him. He was always too cocky whenever they talked. Theon nodded, before excusing himself to tell the boys. "Lyra, you'll come to."

Lyra nodded, before following after Theon, but instead of turning right at the bottom of the stairs, she turned left and carried on further into the castle. The stone walls were cool, and the sound of her shoes echoed along the corridor before she reached her room.

Lyra heaved the wooden door open, before slamming it shut and peeling her dress off of her body. It took her a moment to find her riding breeches, which were half-hidden underneath the bed, and her boots were still caked in mud from hawking with her mother three days prior. The last thing that Lyra located was her thickest riding cloak, lined with mink fur. 

She swept outside once more, after wrestling with the heavy door, and jogged over to where her horse was waiting. Blanche nickered at the sight of her, patiently waiting for Lyra to finish checking the tightness of the girth.

Throwing the reins over her mare's head, Lyra brought her horse to a stop near the mounting block, and quickly jumped on. She knew that Blanche had a proclivity for walking away right as Lyra was trying to get on her, often leading to the Stark girl landing in the mud. Thus, she had to be quick, lest she wanted to be ridiculed for days to come.

"You're joining us?" Robb rode over, pulling in next to his eldest sister, as she slid her gloves on. Lyra looked over at him, before nodding.

"Father told me to," She smiled, as Jon rode up on the other side of them, blowing his dark curls from his face. Despite the trio all being related, they shared a range of hair colours that often caused people to think otherwise.

"Are't you supposed to be in your needlepoint lesson with the other girls?" Jon cut in, finally managing to wrestle his dark curls back into a somewhat manageable state, before he turned to look at her with a raised eyebrow. Lyra scowled and shook her head. The only reason that she ever went to needlepoint lessons anymore was to keep the peace between her younger siblings. Sansa and Arya knew exactly how to get on one and other nerves and between Sansa's quick temper and Arya's impulsivity, it was often a recipe for disaster.

"I decided not to go" Lyra commented, smiling towards Bran who was joining them for the first time. Jon and Robb both laughed from next to her.

"I don't blame you,"

✧✦✧

They had reached the execution site quickly, the ground not being quite as muddy as it normally was after the rain. Jumping off of Blanche, Lyra squeezed Bran's shoulder as she walked past to hook her arm through Robb's.

"I know I broke my oath. I know I'm a deserter. I should've gone back to the wall and warned them but...I saw what I saw. I saw the white walkers," The man looked up, his eyes wide with fear.

Lyra watched on in confusion, wondering why the man was bringing up these tales. White walkers were a fable, often told by parents to scare young kids into submission and to make sure that they didn't go out into the woods at night. There was little truth to that story.

"People need to know. If you can get word to my family, tell them I'm a coward. Tell them I'm sorry," Robb squeezed the top of Lyra's hands, his face still blank,

Their father nodded at the guards, waiting for the man to be forced onto the beheading block as Theon handed Ice over to their father. Ice was the Stark's ancestral long sword, made from Valyrian steel. It was only ever used for beheading and formal knighting ceremonies.

"In the name of Robert of the House Baratheon, first of his name..." Lyra struggled to focus as the sound of Jon whispering reached her ears. She couldn't hear what he was saying, and it was getting on her nerves. "King of the Andals and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm. I, Eddard, of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, sentence you to die."

Her father swung the sword and cleaved the man's head off in one stroke, and Lyra kept her face stony as the head rolled down the hill. This wasn't the first time she had seen an execution, and she doubted that it would be her last.

The head came to a stop close to her, the blue eyes of the deserter staring at Lyra. It was like a warning from above and Lyra stared at it for a moment longer. Something bad was going to happen.

"Lyra..." She snapped out of her thoughts, hooking her arm back through Robb's as he lead her to the horses. He gave the head one more glance, before helping his younger sister back onto her horse and following suit.

✧✦✧

They had almost reached Winterfell when Robb brought came to a stop, staring at something on the bridge in front of them.

"What is it, brother?" Lyra called from where she was riding with her father. Robb said nothing, as everyone began to dismount to see what the fuss was about. 

It was the smell that hit Lyra first. The scent of rotting carcass becoming overpowering as they got closer to the end of the bridge. Soon after, she began to hear the buzzing of flies and she wrinkled her nose in distaste.

"What is it?" Jon asked from next to them and Lyra raised her eyebrow, unimpressed. It was very clearly a dead stag.

"Mountain lion?" Theon asked as they all stared at the corpse. Lyra looked around, trying to work out where the animal that had killed it came from. It couldn't be far away. The stag looked like it had put up a fight.

"There are no mountain lions in these woods," Lyra replied, looking at the carcass and then at the trail of guts leading in another direction. She began to follow it, her brothers racing to catch up. Their father had little choice but to follow.

Lyra skidded down an embankment, digging her boots in to the soft mud and jumping over tree roots that jutted out at odd angles. Turning a corner, Lyra's eyebrows furrowed at the sight of another corpse, this one much larger than the fist. It was clearly a wolf, and a large one at that, with six mewling pups surrounding it.

"It's a freak," Theon called, staring in disgust at the dead animal. Lyra shook her head. This was the symbol of her house, not a freak.

"It's a direwolf," Her father corrected, yanking the antler from the wolf's head. "Tough old beast."

"There are no direwolves south of the wall." Robb commented, as Lyra resisted the urge to slap him for being so dense.

"Well, there are now...six," She replied, narrowing her eyes at her older brother. Thank the gods he was good looking as his brains weren't going to get him far in life at this rate.

"You want to hold it?" Jon asked, holding one of the pups out to Bran. Lyra saw this as her opportunity, and scooped another one of the litter up, holding it close to her chest. The pup was small, with a dark grey coat and ears too large for it's head.

The cub opened it's eyes, watching Lyra with golden orbs and Lyra knew immediately that she was in love with the animal. 

"Where will they go? Their mother's dead," Bran asked, his arms around another one of the puppies.

"They don't belong down here," Roderick commented, as Robb glanced over his sister's shoulders at the little pup in her arms.

"Better a quick death. They won't last without their mother," Theon pulled the puppy out of Bran's arms in response to the eldest Stark's statement.

"Please, Father," Bran called, after a short scuffle with Theon over the pup. Bran was still to small to properly try and fight the older Greyjoy for the puppy.

"I'm sorry, Bran," Lyra glared up at her father as he spoke, clinging onto the puppy even tighter. She was not going to let the little thing go.

"Lord Stark," Jon called, making everything come to a stop. "There are six pups, one for each of the Stark children. The direwolf is a sigil of your house. They were meant to have them."

There was a tense silence as Eddard took in Bran and Lyra's pleading faces, as well as Jon's statement. Finally, he relented.

"You will train them yourselves. You will feed them yourselves and if they die, you will bury them yourselves." With that Eddard stalked away from the conversation, Lyra following shorty after with her own pup.

Digging her heels into the mud, Lyra accepted her father's hand up and continued back along the bridge to her own horse, the pup in her hands. Blanche took a few steps back as she seemed to catch the smell of the wolf cub.

"Hush now," Lyra brushed her hand over Blanche's nose, curling the pup tighter into her. "She's a friend."

Blanche calmed down as Lyra spoke, before allowing the girl to climb back on with the pup. The wolf looked around with wide, golden eyes, as Eddard appeared on the other side of her.

"We need to talk when we return to Winterfell," Eddard reminded his daughter, who's happy expression faded for a second, before nodding and smiling sadly at the thought. Whenever her father said that, nothing ever good came from it.

"Of course,"

"What are you naming the pup?" Eddard reached over, smoothing the fur on the puppy's head down as Lyra beamed.

"Elia. She has golden eyes," Lyra told him, before starting to ride off as the other boys appeared back on the main road with the rest of the cubs. It was only a short ride, so she wasn't too worried that the boys wouldn't catch up.

✧✦✧

As soon as they returned, Lyra quickly un-tacked Blanche and ran off to her room with the puppy following. She almost knocked into Sansa on her way in, but managed to dodge the girl in the nick of time.

"Where have you been?" Sansa raised an eyebrow, her sewing in her hands as she looked at her older sister.

"Father wanted me to go to an execution with him," Sansa pursed her lips. The auburn haired girl had been to one and hadn't enjoyed it, so was often left out of it. "But, there is a gift for you with the boys and Mother wants to take us hawking with Arya in a few days."

Sansa's face lit up as Lyra spoke, and she nodded quickly. Lyra grinned once more, before continuing on her way and up the stairs, Elia behind her like a little ghost. Reaching her room, Lyra began on the task of unlacing her boots and peeling her muddy breeches and tunic over her head. Searching though her closet, Lyra pulled out a more presentable dress and slipped it on. Her mother liked for her children to all be presentable when she spoke to them.

Elia continued to follow the girl, as Lyra pulled twigs out of her hair on her walk to her father's solar. As soon as the leaves were out, Lyra quickly twisted her hair out of the way, so that if any mud was in it from the ride, her mother wouldn't see it. Knocking on the door of the solar, Lyra picked Elia up and waited for her call to enter.

"Lyra, come and sit," Her mother's voice rang out, as the eldest of the Stark girls swept into the room with a demure smile on her face. Sitting down, she placed the puppy by her feet and waited for either of her parents to say something.

"I know that this is not what you want, but it is high time that we found you a husband," Lyra refrained from pursing her lips and cursing. She did not want to be forced into a marriage with someone she barely knew, like Robb was. If she had her way, Lyra would wish to marry for love.

"Of course, father,"

"Lyra, I am not going to marry you to someone that I do not feel is suitable," Lyra nodded. Her father had good sense, so hopefully his choice wouldn't be anyone horrible. "And, if you really are going to protest against it, I will allow you to say no but you can not say no to everyone."

"I understand," Her father nodded, before waving his hand and dismissing the girl. Lyra grabbed her little wolf cub, and started out of the hall to find the remainder of her family. As she reached the ground floor, Rickon came barreling past her, a dark wolf cub on his tail. She laughed, before carrying on in the opposite direction and reaching the main hall.

Robb was in the corner with Jon, both of them talking quietly whilst their puppies played at their feet. Sansa sat on the other side, next to the girls Septa. She too had a puppy at her feet, and was already playing with the little thing.

Arya was no where to be found, nor was her pup, and Bran sat on his own, trying to get his cub to stop pouncing at the feathers on the floor. Lyra looked down at Elia, who was already watching her with those large, golden eyes.

"I think, Elia," The cub tilted her head as one ear flopped over her eyes. "That this is going to be the start of something good."

Hiya,

So, first chapter and we're getting an introduction to the Stark family. I love Lyra and Elia and Blanche so that's that. Also, I really love the idea of Catelyn taking the girls hawking as like a mother daughter activity. It's super sweet.

Thanks for reading,

Love Li xx