The feel of sunrays in her eyes woke Ryssa that morning, just like it did every morning since she came to Winterfell. Not that she minded it much; it was her habit to wake with the sun. Her chamber, just like the one she had back home in Forgehammer, was on the East side of the keep meaning she was one of the first to feel the light every day. Having a beautiful view of the surrounding woodlands only brought more to the room's appeal.

Stretching herself like a cat, she rose from her bed to start her morning routine. Pouring some fresh water into a basin, she washed her face, the cold water rousing her from the grogginess of sleep than anything ever could. From the chest that lay at the foot of her bed, she took her usual garments; dark brown leather breeches, black leather boots and a deep red tight long-sleeved dress that reached mid-calf. The skirt of the dress was made to look like it was cut into shreds at one point in its past despite being made like that deliberately so it would allow maximum movement freedom to its wearer. It was perfect for running, riding, hunting, sword fighting and much more while it still gave the appeal of a lady's dress. Along the high collar and the ends of the sleeves was elaborate embroidery of fire turning into flame colored feathers. Ryssa had her mother to thank for the beauty of the dress, it was a gift for her sixteenth nameday and from that day on she was rarely seen not wearing it.

Fastening a small brown leather belt around her waist, Ryssa sat at her vanity brushing her thick waist long mane of blood red hair, later continuing to braid it in elaborate fashion which kept most of it out of her face but still allowed her diagonally cut bangs to fall on her face. Though it seemed very simple, at better look it showed many tiny braids woven tightly together along her scalp in spiral pattern. This was a hairstyle she usually wore ever since she was a little girl making her very much used to the harsh pull the braids made. Unless one was used to them they would get splitting headaches for the next two days after wearing their hair like this for only a few hours.

By the time she was finished most of Winterfell was already bustling with life so she decided to make her way to the kitchens to break her fast. A little bread and cheese would be more than enough to keep her satisfied until lunch. On her way down a small smile wove itself on her face as she saw none of the servants in the keep stop their work to bow to her. It was something that really bothered her in the first few weeks she was staying here. She saw herself as no lady so she saw no need for others to treat her like one.

The reason why she never saw herself as a lady was because, by her family's tradition, every child had to earn its position in society and she had not yet proven her worth to her father. Despite being at the age of seventeen, she hadn't done anything worth mentioning while her older brother had already done some things to further better the lives of her people in the small space of two years. Then again, he had always been better at diplomacy than she. That was the reason she'd asked her lord father to send her to Winterfell as a ward for the Starks. She thought that, maybe, she will do something great under their wing and finally earn the tittle of lady she had always dreamed of having. To be as elegant and gentle, yet fierce, like her mother was her dream.

Every day was the same to Ryssa; she would first attend sewing lessons before lunch with Sansa and Arya, after lunch she would spend some time in the library and later help the smith in the forge or perfect her skills with some of Lord Stark's sons. Then, go to dinner and to sleep. And the same thing the next day.

With a tired sigh, Ryssa slowly dragged her legs to her sewing lessons. She never really liked sewing, purely because she was no good at it. She very well knew how to make clothes and mend them when needed. Making embroideries, however, was a whole another thing. Her hands were too clumsy when holding a needle and she never possessed an eye for fine detail like Sansa and her mother did. Even her trouble making younger twin sisters, who were only six years old, were much better at making embroideries than her. Ryssa has always been far more comfortable holding a blade, bow or even a forging hammer.

The silence that usually ensued during their sewing lessons was almost maddening to Ryssa. She was raised in a large family. People said the Starks had many children since there were six, but her father had nine; Ryssa and her eight siblings. Ryssa had three sisters and five brothers; she was second oldest to her brother, Therenger, and the oldest daughter. There were also her aunt and uncle and their four children, not to mention all the servants and their children who also lived in the Keep with her family. Noise was an almost mandatory part of the day; there was always running, shouting, screaming etc. Even sewing lessons were filled with the sound of careless gossiping and laughter of the younger girls. The silence the Stark's septa insisted on was pure madness for Ryssa. There was only so long she was able to endure it before she would simply start talking, regardless of the septa's warnings, or simply leave while leaving her half finished work on the stool she was forced to sit on. Not like she would've had the patience to actually finish it.

She was sitting on the stool nearest to the window carefully sewing a bluebird on the white handkerchief while occasionally stealing fleeting glances of the outside world when she was sure the septa wasn't looking at her. It was slowly snowing, the tiny white crystals floating on the cold breeze, some landing on the window glass before being melted away by the warmth of the hearth thet made the glass warm enough to do so. Ryssa wanted to be outside, to feel the snowflakes in her hair and on her fingertips, enjoy the caress of the cold wind. She was from just south of the wall so no matter how cold it got in Winterfell she would barely feel it. Ever since she came, her heavy fur cloak has been tucked away in her trunk since it was too warm for her to wear here. She rather wore her lighter forest green woolen cloak.

For the umpteenth time that day, Ryssa pricked her finger on the needle due to her lack of attention. A small hiss almost escaped her plump lips but she managed to hold it in. The last thing she wanted at the moment was for the septa to pay her attention and see just how much she was slacking. She cast a small glance at the Stark sisters; Sansa was threading her work with a look of utmost concentration in her blue Tully eyes, while Arya was nowhere to be seen. The little wolf had probably managed to slip away from the lessons some time ago and was running about somewhere, enjoying her freedom. Ryssa was somewhat jealous of the little girl for having such freedom but also sad for her because she knew that all that freedom would soon be gone; Arya will be betrothed to a lord or a knight, later on married to him, and the little half-wild grinning she-wolf will be forced to become a meek and obedient woman. Ryssa was only grateful that her father forbade for any marriage offers to be made for his children until they have celebrated their twenty first nameday. Therenger had only turned twenty-one a few short months ago and Ryssa was sure that he would soon be on the search of a perfect woman to his life companion while she wanted to never marry and spend all her life traveling the world and broadening her horizons. She had even sworn to herself that she would never let herself to fall in love, ever.

Feeling her last shred of patience snap, she rose form her stool and went for the door. ''Please, excuse me but I think I shall go get some fresh air.'' Without waiting for a reply she was already halfway out in the courtyard breathing the cold air with full lungs, a large smile spread on her face. Now, this was the way she wanted to spend her days; underneath the endless sky, feeling the wind in her hair and on her skin. It was paradise for her.

''I see you've managed to escape once more from your lessons,'' said a familiar voice behind her. She turned to find Jon Snow, Lord Stark's bastard son, watching her with a smirk on his face.

''I have no idea what you're talking about Jon,'' she said, feigning innocence.

He scoffed,''Oh, please! I know you better than you believe I do and I know with certainty that you've escaped.'' It was a completely normal occurrence for her to run, if only to save herself from being driven to madness by boredom.

''Alright, so maybe I DID run away,'' she admitted ''But it was only for the sake of my fragile mind,'' she added with an overly dramatic tone.

''Yes, I can tell,'' he said sarcastically.

''You wound my heart, Jon Snow.'' She put a dramatic hand over her heart. He looked at her with a rare grin.

''I didn't know you even had one.''

She mock-gasped. ''Now, that is just cruel!'' She burst into a laugh, him following soon after. It took them a few minutes to get their bearings together, but once they calmed down she said to him: ''I was on my way to ask you if you, Robb and Theon needed any help with today's archery lesson. You know I am second only to my sister, but then again, she is the one able to split an arrow within only ten seconds of firing it, so I thought of maybe correcting the mistakes you boys might miss.''

...

They were at it for the last twenty minutes and Bran was still to hit within the target. It was honestly bugging the hell out of her since she could see the mistakes in his posture and the way he held the bow as clear as day but Robb didn't let her correct them. 'Curse the stubbornness of men,' she thought as she sat on top of a barrel beneath a small balcony that overlooked the archery range. If it were only she and Jon helping Bran today, then he would have definitely allowed her to correct Bran's stance. The only problem was that Lady Stark didn't allow for Jon to be alone with her children without supervision, with Robb and being the only exception.

Often did it bother Ryssa how Lady Stark treated Jon. It was no his fault for being born a bastard, those things happen even to the most honorable of lords and especially so in the time of war. If anything, Lord Stark taking Jon in and raising him as his own just showed that the man was honorable enough to take responsibility for his actions. The founder of her own house was a bastard himself, so she was taught to be respectful of all people, trueborn or bastard.

After Bran, once more, missed the target completely, Robb silently snickered while Jon leaned down to whisper something to the boy's ear making them both look over their shoulders at whoever was on the balcony over her head. By the look in Bran's eyes she presumed Lord Stark has come to see his son's progress but a tiny flicker of discomfort in Jon's eyes told her Lady Stark was most likely there as well. Bran gave a small nod and turned back to the target. Just from the way his arms stressed the bow too much, she knew he was going to miss by a long shot. And, true to word, his arm went off course and the arrow flew over the target and into the trees to what both Jon and Robb started laughing. Even little Rickon was laughing in the backgroungd.

''And which one of you was a marksman at ten?'' That efficiently shut them all up ,making Ryssa stand up from her seat and walk into Lord Stark's line of sight by stopping next to Bran with a bow and arrow ready in her hands.

With a smile she said, ''I was.'' Lord Stark offered her a small smile and a nod of acknowledgment before turning his eyes back to Bran.

''Keep practicing Bran.''

Ryssa kneeled next to him to be more at his eye level. ''Here pup; just watch what I'm doing.'' She executed all the movement while she described them to him. ''Now, you don't push the bow with your bow arm, just keep it relaxed. Focus on the target in front of you; don't think too much. If you do, the arrow my change its mind. Keep your elbow high, but not too much. Use your back and stomach muscles as much as those in your arms. Use your mouth as a guide and...'' The arrow hit dead center. ''You can make a hit like that almost every single time.'' She turned to the boy, ''Think you got it?'' He nodded and she smiled encouragingly. ''Now try it yourself.''

''Go on,'' Lord stark said from the balcony.

Ryssa stood up and moved a few steps away to give Bran some room. Jon and Robb giving him advice as he aimed, now making the same observations she did just moments earlier. She could see that this time he would surely hit the target, if not the center itself but before he could release the arrow, another flew by them and hit the bullseye. They all turned to see Arya with a bow and a mocking smile before she made a mock-curtsey and Bran chased after her Robb yelling, 'Bran, faster!' after his brother.

...

Sitting by the fireplace later that evening, Ryssa couldn't help but to be reminded of the times when she was a little younger. She and her siblings, no matter how old they got, enjoyed listening to their father's stories both true ones and those he made up at the spot and the songs her mother used to invent to help better create the atmosphere of the story. One story popped in her mind suddenly and made her smile widely as she hummed the melody of a song her mother had played and sung for them as their father told them the story. A small pull at the hem of her dress broke her from her daze and she found Rickon looking up at her with his large Tully blue eyes.

''What's that song you're singing? Are you going to sing it to us?'' he asks with so much innocence that she can't help but smile at the buy.

''It's a song my mother used to sing to me and my brothers and sisters when my father told us a certain story. It just popped into my mind and I couldn't help but sing. If you can wait, I will sing it to you once your father and brother's return, deal?''

The boy smiled and shook her outstretched hand. ''Deal!''

Earlier that day, after Bran chased off Arya during his archery practice, Lord Stark received news of a deserter from the Wall being caught not far from Winterfell. He took Robb, Theon, Jon and Bran with him to the execution despite Lady Stark's protests of Bran being too young to such a sight at the age of ten.

She wanted to scoff at that, Ryssa was seven when she had witnessed her first execution and her brother, Therenger, was even younger when he had witnessed his own. It was a sight children of the North just had to get used to in order to steel themselves for the harsh winter to come.

During the day, she changed from her usual red dress, boots and breeches and was now wearing a beautiful deep red dress that covered most of her skin, leaving only her head and hands visible, with its high neckline and tight silver blue under sleeves underneath the widening red ones. An abstract pattern of vines the hemline of the skirt and sleeves coming up to just above her knees and elbows, black slippers adorned her feet and a black belt accentuated her small waist. Her blood red hair was completely loose and fell down her back in gentle waves while her black exes were given a slight golden glow from the fire blazing in the fireplace, the light showing her eyes to be a dark green as opposed to them seeming black.

Only half an hour has passed from Rickon and Ryssa's deal when Lord Stark and the boys returned and entered the room. Ryssa spotted small bundles of fur in the boys' arms. It took her only a few seconds to recognize them for what they really are. A smile broke on her face as she said, '' Are those direwolves, Lord Stark?''

They all gave her slightly confused looks. ''How did you know they were direwolves?'' Lord Stark asked her.

''I've seen many direwolves growing up, my lord. There aren't many south of the Wall, but there is a small pack living in the Godswood at Forgehammer,'' she explained as she approached Jon and plucked a pure white pup with red eyes from his arms. The pup didn't make a sound but rather looked at her with intelligent eyes and licked her cheek affectionately making her smile at the small creature and scratch it behind its ears. ''My sibling and I grew up with them and I must say that they are very loyal and loving.''

After her explanation, Lord Stark told the story of how they found the pups and that eacho of the Stark children was to take care of one. Soon enough, names were given to the pups and they were either playing with each other or with their respective owners as Lord and Lady Stark overlooked their children with fond smiles. Jon was sitting next to the fire with Ryssa, his pup 'Ghost' still in Ryssa's arms, and telling her of the execution when Rickon suddenly spoke causing all attention to go to Ryssa.

''Ryssa, you promised me you would sing that song when Father came back home! Please sing.''

''I'm so sorry, pup. I completely forgot about it, will you forgive me?'' she asked him with puppy eyes.

''Only if you sing,'' he said making everyone laugh.

She answered, ''Whisecrack. Alright, I'll sing,'' when everyone supported Rickon's suggestion.

Tell everybody I'm on my way,
New friends and new places ti see.
With blue skies ahead, yes I'm on my way
And there's nowhere else that I'd rather be.

Tell everybody I'm on my way
And that I'm loving every step I take.
With the sun beating down, yes I'm on my way
And I can't keep this smile off my face.

'Cause there's nothing like seeing each other again,
No matter what the distance between.
And the stories that we tell will make you smile,
Oh it really lifts my heart.

So tell 'em all I'm on my way now,
New friends and new places to see.
And to sleep under the stars and who could ask for more,
With the moon keeping watch over me.

Not the snow, not the rain can change my mind,
The sun will come out, wait and see.
And the feeling of the wind in your face can lift your heart
Or there's nowhere I would rather be

'Cause I'm on my way now,
Well and true, I'm on my way now.

I'm on my way now,
I'm on my way now,
I'm on my way now...

Tell everybody I'm on my way,
I just can't wait to be there.
With the blue skies ahead, yes I'm on my way
And nothing but good times to share.

So, tell everybody I'm on my way
And I just can't wait to be home.
With the sun beating down, yes I'm on my way
And nothing but good times to show.

I'm on my way,
Yes, I'm on my way...

AN: This is my second fanfic I'm publishing and probably the longest chapter I've written. In the second one we learn a bit more about Ryssa's siblings and we see her reaction to Robert and his family.

For those wondering, Ryssa is the second oldest child and oldest daughter of Lord Rafario Manalis. She has eight siblings, five brothers and three sisters. She is seventeen and has been living as a ward of Stark's for the last year or so after requesting it from her father.

Her family's sigil is a flying red Phoenix on a sliver blue field. They live in the mountains and plains just south of Shadow Tower, the western most castle along the Wall and are known for often venturing north of the Wall. They are also known as the best blacksmiths and soldiers of Westeros, even though they rarely fight in wars since there aren't many of them. Their lands are called the Ashlands due to the color of the ground and their castle is called Forgehammer, aka. The White Keep due to the color of the stone with which it was made, and it contains the largest forge in Westeros.

Ryssa, like most of her siblings, is an excelent fighter since she was raised to be a soldier from an early age so she is very skilled with a bow and sword, but her primary weapon are twin sai like daggers she made herself.

Anyhow, I hope you like what I've come up with and leave me some feedback down in the reviews. ;)