Yay! New story time! :D

Of course, I'll be continuing 'The Wolf and the Lion', but I wanted to start another one to keep me busy this summer.

This chapter may be kind of sucky; I just really wanted to introduce as many characters as I could now, so they can have lines and participate sooner.

Thanks to Kim and Madi for beta-reading!

Enjoy, and let me know what you think!

Elira

The light, summer snow gently fell onto her head, melting into her elaborately braided hair. She didn't mind the cold; she was of the North. The snow felt good as it hit her rosy cheeks, refreshing her. The chilly breeze also did her well; it reminded her of when she was a little girl. She couldn't have been more than three when she faced her first winter. She and her siblings would huddle together for warmth, battling the harsh, freezing nights. The Starks were always right, eventually; winter was coming. And soon, she would be in front of a hearth in Winterfell, her children and husband surrounding her.

She couldn't help but cringe at the thought. Within a few days, she would become Lady Elira Stark of Winterfell. She would marry Robb Stark, someone she had never even met before. She would leave her castle in Temes behind, along with her family and friends, and take Winterfell as a home. She would trade her soaring owl for a growling direwolf.

"How are you feeling, Elira?" The voice of her twin brother, Ryker, dragged her out of her thoughts. He brought his stallion closer to her mare. Ryker Manston was a tall, brave and handsome young man, like a knight in the songs. His wide, hazel eyes sparkled, always smiling.

"I've been better," she admitted, a weak smile gracing her lips. Her house words kept running through her mind; choose your fate. Yet here she was, being shipped off to live out her days in Winterfell, and serving as Robb Stark's bed warmer and child bearer there. She couldn't help but let out a dark laugh at that.

"Stop worrying so much," he gently chided. "Mother and Father were forced to marry, and look at them now. They couldn't be happier." He flashed her a reassuring smile.

"How come I'm to marry before you are?" Elira asked him, pouting childishly.

He ran his fingers through his long, raven black hair. "Would you like me to be Robb's wife in your stead?" Ryker laughed. She chuckled to herself; they had always gotten mixed up as children. Now, at fifteen, the only thing that they shared were their eyes; Ryker was at least a head taller than his sister, and Elira's hair had lightened to match her mother's.

"You would look absolutely lovely in a dress," she teased. At their father's name day feast ten years ago, the handmaidens had mixed the two up, and Ryker found himself in a dress for the rest of the feast.

"I thought I told you to never bring that up," he huffed, still sensitive towards that subject. "And don't forget, sweet sister; I'm to marry that Frey girl within the year." He kicked the sides of his horse, riding to the front of the caravan.

Elira urged her mount forward and followed her brother. "When shall we arrive in Winterfell?" she called, trying to catch up to her brother. She sighed when he didn't answer.

"Your mother says we'll be there within the hour," Arabelle answered her. She stopped riding for a moment and waited for Elira to catch up to her. Arabelle, of House Hayston, was the wife of Olyver, the oldest Manston child. She was of average height, although it was impossible not to notice her. Her beauty was undeniable; long golden hair brought out piercing blue eyes, full pink lips and sharp cheekbones. In the three short years Elira had known her, Arabelle had come to be her closest and most trusted friend.

Elira answered with a sharp nod. "I can't wait to get off this damn horse," she grumbled to no one in particular. She turned to her good-sister. "How long have we been riding?"

Arabelle gave her a tired smile. "Two days, Elle." It was a name Ryker had called her since they could talk, and it had caught on. Elira groaned and thought about joining her mother, her younger sister, Flora, and her nephew, Emont, in the carriage for the rest of the journey.

"How did you react when you found out you were to marry my brother?" she asked Arabelle, hoping to take her mind off of her aching body. "You don't have to answer that," she mumbled, blushing.

"I always knew I'd have to marry, of course," Arabelle replied softly, resting a hand on her belly, swollen with her and Olyver's second child. "I was…scared, to say the least. I had never met your brother, and I didn't know what to expect." She smiled dreamily, her eyes focused on her stomach. "But we love each other. We have a beautiful son, and another child on the way." She smiled at Elira, moving her hand from her stomach to join the other on the reins. "You can ask me anything. Don't be afraid."

"Have you met Robb Stark?"

"No, although I have heard much about him. He's honorable, of course; it's all those Starks care about." She smirked, tossing her golden hair over her shoulder. "He's very handsome, so don't worry about that."

"What does he look like?" Elira demanded, wanting to get a rough idea of who she was going to spend the rest of her life with.

"Auburn hair, blue eyes." Arabelle shrugged. "The Tully mold." Elira had met Catelyn Tully once or twice when she was younger; her mother was close friends with the Stark bride, another reason as to why Robb and Elira were getting married. She had been very young at the time, although she remembered Catelyn being very gentle, kind and beautiful.

"My ladies." Elira's uncle, Ser Esmour Manston, rode towards the pair. He smiled at them, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. "We are approaching Winterfell."

Elira nodded. "Thank you, Uncle." She smiled as he left to join her father and brothers at the front of the caravan. Esmour was the younger brother of Elira's father, Merek, and was the master-of-arms at Temes. Elira had always admired the man, and was eternally grateful for having him around; he secretly taught her how to wield a sword and shoot a bow and arrow. Her mother, Alys, of House Bole, thought it was too unladylike for Elira to be practicing weaponry. Of course, that hadn't stopped her.

Winterfell's walls stood eighty feet high, the gray color blending into the dark sky. Even from afar, the huge castle was intimidating. The structure was immense, and Elira knew that it had been here for hundreds and thousands of years. She felt her jaw drop, completely amazed by her future home.

Ryker rode to his sister's side, just as captivated of the view as she was. He leaned closer to her, his eyes never leaving the castle in front of them. "Welcome to Winterfell, sweet sister."