Of White Trees and Blue Roses

Lyanna Stark is a free spirit, a wild she-wolf. The old wolf wants to marry her to a stag, but the she-wolf would rather carry a sword than wear a wedding gown. Maybe a dragon might change her mind?

I really don't know what George RR Martin has in mind with this back story, but I really couldn't get this out of my mind. I haven't finished reading the series, so I may be proven wrong, but this is my homage to the awesomeness that is Lyanna Stark in A Song of Ice and Fire. I'm in love with the series and no copyright infringement intended.

P.s. Chapter lengths are likely to be erratic. Some may be drabbles, others may be long—bear with me. I'm impatient lol. I'll stick to canon so far as I know it, forgive me if I stray.

~X~

Chapter One – The Wolf Pack and the Stag

Smiling, young Eddard Stark—Ned—reached the gnarled old tree first, and encouraged his horse to a trot after pushing it to its limits. Patting the animal's neck, he whispered, "Good boy." Seconds later, with a loud roar, his friend joined him. Robert Baratheon's face was red with both exertion and frustration.

"Not a fair race. This is your country. You know this road too well."

Grinning, Ned disagreed. "And I haven't ridden on it in years. There are new pot holes, lower branches..."

"Your horse is faster than mine," Robb argued, but Ned shook his head.

"No, the reason why I won is because you're hung over." He gave his friend a mildly scolding look. "Your first visit to Winterfell and you drink like a pig the night before. You reek like a brewery."

Laughing hard, Robb had to nod his agreement. "Aye. Coming here to the wild north I dropped my courage in the bottom of my cup and I had to sup it back into me."

"Your courage?" Ned looked puzzled. "I thought Robert of House Baratheon feared nothing." Robert never needed the excuse of looking for courage to pick up a cup of wine or ale—something that their guardian, Jon Arryn, constantly scolded him about. On the road, he'd had no voice in his ear to curb his appetite for it, and last night he'd been the drunkest Ned had ever seen him.

"Oh, I fear no man, but I hear she-wolves roam these parts." Robb looked ahead, his eyes focused on some distant object. "There's only one thing I'm afraid of...and that's your sister."

"My sister? Last time I saw her she was skinny as a weasel, and acted more of a boy than a lady. How can you be so scared of her?" Ned looked at his friend. The only thing that Robert Baratheon enjoyed more than a cup of wine was the company of young women. In the taverns they'd stopped at along the way, Robb had talked himself into many a bed—not that he needed to woo much with his square jaw, broad shoulders, and thick arms.

Being the less attractive option, Ned had still found himself left to fend off Robb's castoffs after he'd retired for the night—or afternoon. Determined to stay pure for his wedding night, Ned had always sent them away disappointed. Though he often found a girl appealing and his baser side tried to sway him, his honour, and the honour of his future wife whoever she may be, was more important.

"There's nothing so fearsome as the woman you've been told you'll wed." Robb looked at his friend. "One day, you'll understand. Who do you think you'll marry in the end? Has Lord Stark suggested anyone?"

Shaking his head, Ned replied, "No. I'm the second brother. Until Brandon's wed, I doubt Father will make a match for me. Being heir, he's worth the better match."

"The trials of having a better looking, more famous, and much more talkative brother." Robert guffawed. "Do you ever wonder how she'll be? What she looks like? What she's like in bed?" His eyes twinkled mischievously.

"She'll be some daughter of some lord, I imagine. Someone Father wants to strengthen relations with. The rest...what does it matter?"

"What does it matter?" Robb's voice grew loud. "Me, I want to marry someone I can grow to love. Someone who I'll gladly fill with sons rather than some sour-faced, bitter shrew who I'll have to fuck out of duty once a year."

"Good luck with my sister. If she hasn't changed, she has more than a touch of the shrew about her." Winking, Ned nodded his head to the horizon. "Winterfell is just over that hill. Do you want to walk along talking about love like a pair of maidens, or do you want to race me?"

Robb groaned. "I don't think my stomach could manage it."

~X~

Lyanna and Benjen were taking turns to ride around the ring. Wearing her plainest, most soiled blue dress, Lyanna beamed widely as the Master of Horse's young son, Hullen, shouted instructions which she ignored.

It was about time he accepted that she didn't want to learn to ride ladylike, and instead she remembered what he had explained to Ben instead.

His will beaten, Hullen finally realized that his words were falling on deaf ears, and let Lyanna do as she pleased. Many a better man had tried to change her ways. Her septa despaired and she now spent more time at archery than needlework, though so far she had not been allowed to practice jousting at rings.

Her father had forbidden it. She went too far, he had told her. She must remember that when she married and left for Storm's End, the liberties she took here at Winterfell would not be accepted.

Instead, when she went "hawking" or for a "pleasant ride through the snow" with her youngest brother, they would head to the same clearing where they'd made a makeshift tourney field, complete with rings and lances. Benjen would pass on what he'd been taught, and they would try to outdo each other. If any of her father's men had stumbled upon it, they'd said nothing.

Despite her fair sex, Lyanna was more naturally talented than her youngest brother.

When she was smaller, she'd been able to pass for a boy, but now she grew closer to womanhood, Lyanna found herself cursing the fact that she'd been born a girl. Baby Benjen would grow up to be a knight, and she would be left with the task of making babies, and whatever it was that ladies were expected to do.

Often, she considered cutting off her hair and living the life of a hedge knight, but she wasn't so stupid that she didn't know how that would end the moment some thug found out that it wasn't a cock she had between her legs.

It wasn't fair, she told herself.

Hearing the sounds of hooves and shouting, Lyanna pulled up her horse, and then galloped toward the edge of the circle, clearing it easy and riding towards the entrance.

Two boys on horse trotted across the drawbridge ahead of their guards, and she recognized her brother instantly—his features so northern now he'd grown into them that he might as well have had "Stark" written on his forehead in ink.

"Ned!" She cantered over. "You're late. We expected you two days ago. Why didn't you send a raven to let us know you'd arrive today?" She smiled at her brother's companion. "Robert."

Robert had been staring since his eyes had found her, his mouth held open in an expression of abject horror. "I think I'm going to be sick," he muttered, jumped off his horse, and headed for the nearest building, which happened to be the stable. It wasn't long before the sound of retching could be heard.

As Ned dismounted, Lyanna did likewise, and almost knocked him off his feet as she ran to him for a hug. "Are you well? How was the road? You've grown...how tall are you now?"

He gave the same silent grin she remembered from when they were both children, tearing around Winterfell. Everyone always said that Lyanna and Brandon had made more than enough noise for the four of them. Ben had some of Ned's quietness about him, though maybe not to the same extent.

"I'm well. Look at you..." Ned held his arm up to allow his sister to do a twirl, and laughing, she obliged. "What happened to the weasel I left behind? You've grown beautiful."

Lyanna rolled her eyes. "It didn't seem to impress my betrothed. A few moments in my presence and he runs off to be sick. It doesn't bode well for the wedding night."

Ned gave a small chuckle.

"Next time, give me a warning, and I'll make sure I don't wear a dress with a hem full of mud that stinks of horse."

Benjen then joined them, a good half a foot shorter than their other brother, and the horses were taken away to the stables. As the three young wolves made their way to greet the rest of their pack, Lyanna paused to look back and see if Robert Baratheon was likely to join them.

He stood in the entrance of the stables, but as soon as their eyes met, he turned back into the shadows and the sound of him emptying his stomach was heard once more.