The sky was grey and gloomy, the air crisp and cold. After a long, warm summer, the north was ready to succumb to the inevitable autumn at last. This summer past had been the longest summer known to man. And there was talk amongst the northerners that only an even longer winter could follow. And every northerner knew that winter was the true test of man. It was ruthless and harsh, and only the strongest survived.

"Winter is coming," Eyra muttered to herself as she stared out onto the grounds of Winterfell from her window. The Stark words seemed more worrisome and more relevant than ever before. Having been born during the long summer, she had never seen winter, but she had heard tales of its ruthlessness.

Her bedchamber was cold, as the air outside. No one had bothered lighting a flame in the fireplace that morning. She normally did it herself, but since she rarely spent much time in the room, it seemed rather pointless to make one. It would only sizzle out and die before she came back, and the room would be cold once more. Better to just wrap herself up in wool.

A shiver ran up her spine and she pulled her sheeps skin tighter around her body with a frown. She could not decide whether the shiver was a result of the cold, or the precautionary words of House Stark. Winter is coming… The words kept echoing in her mind like an ominous warning.

From her window high up in the tower, Eyra spotted a party of riders coming down the Kingsroad towards the castle. Her father and brothers were returning home. They had set out earlier that day to confront a deserter of the Night's Watch found upon their lands. Her father had brought the youngest, Bran, to experience his first execution. Everyone knew that Eddard Stark was not overly fond of passing death sentences, but he was an honourable man bound by the law. And deserting the Night's Watch was a serious crime, and therefore had to be punished as such.

"The man who passes the sentence should swing the sword," her father would always say to them. It was like a second mantra of sorts. He never had another man do the dirty work for him, as so many other lords did. It was not in his nature. Eyra had always admired her father's reputable character, but she sometimes worried that it might some day be his downfall.

Feeling anxious to hear the outcome of their expedition, Eyra left the window and raced down the stairs to greet them out in the courtyard. She could only hope that little Bran had faired well. He was so young in her eyes, and such a sensitive, sweet boy. She loved him dearly, as she did all of her siblings. Still, young or not, he was a Stark, and there were responsibilities and expectations to uphold.

Eyra situated herself by the stables and waited. As the horses and their riders came through the gates of the castle, she noted with curiosity that they carried passengers that they had not set out with. Jon, Robb and Bran all carried in the crook of their elbow what looked like a bundle of fur. When they came closer, she realised that the bundle they carried was in fact puppies. They let out little whines and whimpers now and then, stressed out by their strange, new surroundings.

"What is this?" Eyra turned to her father and gestured towards the pup in his arms as he stopped his dark stallion in front of her and dismounted.

Ned handed the little wolf over to her. "We found them on the side of the road. Their mother is dead."

Eyra looked down at the pup in her arms. It was pitch black, like the darkest night itself, with fiery amber eyes, not at all usual for a wolf. Upon closer inspection of the animal, she noted something extraordinary and gasped as her head whipped up to gaze at her father in bewilderment.

"A direwolf?"

Her father nodded sombrely.

Eyra let her gaze fall back down to the pup in her arms, eyes round with awe. Even though the direwolf was the sigil of House Stark, seeing one of them south of the wall was almost unheard of.

She tentatively stroked her hand over the pup's head. "How is this possible?" She asked her father.

Her father seemed troubled for a minute, as he turned away from her to gaze into the distance. "Winter is coming," he said, his voice glum and serious. Then he seemed to shake out of his dark reverie and turned back to his steed to relieve the saddle. "I will tell you, as I told your brothers. You will take care of the pup yourself, without the help of the servants. Otherwise, they go."

Eyra beamed at him. "We can keep them?!" Then, seeing the stern look on her father's face, she nodded gravely. "Yes, sir. Understood. Loud and clear." But then, unable to contain her excitement, she looked up at him with a huge grin, grey eyes sparkling with merriment. "Thank you, father!"

He offered her a soft smile that didn't quite eradicate the worry in his eyes. "That's my girl," he said and stroked her cheek. Then he turned to his men, giving orders to settle the horses for the night, and Eyra knew she was dismissed.

Seeing her twin across the yard, holding his own little pup, she quickly made her way over. Jon too seemed rather awestruck with his new charge, as he stood completely still, stroking the fur of his pup.

Eyra snorted as she regarded the appearance of their respectable pets. Jon's wolf was white as snow, with glowing red eyes. The exact opposite of her own. "This is getting ridiculous," she said and shook her head. It was a running joke amongst their family, and indeed everyone in their acquaintance. Even though the two of them were twins, everything about them seemed destined to be opposed. People wryly referred to them as the Sun and Moon Twins.

Jon's hair was dark, almost black, his cold, grey eyes narrow and mysterious. He had the long face with a square jaw and thin lips, and sported the tall, lean build, all of which were characteristics of the Starks. Eyra on the other hand, was born with silvery blonde hair that was almost unheard of in the north, and although her eyes too were grey, they were of a warmer sort than his. As opposed to him, she had a heart-shaped face with full lips and big, expressive eyes that always seemed to hold a blazing fire within them. She was of average height and had more of a rounded figure.

Twins indeed...

Jon lifted his head and smirked at her as his gaze flickered over Eyra's dark pup. "Aye," he agreed. "The Gods must have a sense of humour."

"Clearly.." She rolled her eyes and shifted her pup more comfortably in her arms. "What will you name him?"

He shrugged. "I was thinking of naming him Ghost."

Eyra regarded the white wolfling and smiled. "It suits him."

"And you?"

She gazed down at her little black pup and bit her lip pensively. "I was thinking of Velvet," she replied after a short while. "What do you think?"

Jon gave a half shrug. "It's very fitting."

They both let their pup's down to the ground to let them play together as they made their way towards the castle. Eyra turned her attention from the wolves and regarded her twin curiously. Even though he hadn't said anything, she knew that something was bothering him. She always knew. "What's happened?" She asked.

He raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Happened?"

She huffed at his evasiveness. "I can tell something is bothering you," she affirmed. "What happened out there?"

He shifted his gaze from her and stared morosely out into the air in front of him, looking very troubled.

"The man," he said slowly. "The deserter. He said some things…"

Her eyebrows shot into the air. That was certainly not what she expected. "What things?"

Jon pursed his lips and shook his head. "Father said it was nothing…"

"What things, Jon?" She pressed, knowing that it would only tear away at him if he did not speak of it.

"He said that he'd seen them." Jon hesitated for a moment, letting the silence fill the air. "That he'd seen The White Walkers. North of the wall."

Eyra's eyes widened in surprise. "The White Walkers?" Her voice was disbelieving as she stared at him. "But… That's just a myth… A story, right?"

"I don't know." he replied uncertainly. "Many people firmly believe it to be true. Myths rarely spring out of nothing."

Eyra stared ahead as thoughts ran wild in her head. The White Walkers… The ice creatures from beyond the wall… They were naught but the villains in scary bedtime stories they had been told by Old Nan, weren't they? The stories had certainly scared her enough as a child, but growing up, she had come to understand that they were only in fact a legend, and nothing to be worried about.

"And father," Jon continued, perturbed. "He didn't say that they weren't real… That it was just a story." He fixed Eyra with a serious frown. "He said that they'd been gone for centuries."

"Alright," Eyra mused slowly, forcing a casual tone. "Let us say that the man spoke true, that he did indeed see a White Walker… That they do still exist…" She gave Jon a look that she hoped portrayed confident nonchalance. "But how can it affect us? They are beyond the wall. The wall was built to protect us"

Jon shook his head slightly. "I don't know, Eyra. I just have a bad feeling." He pressed his lips together. "It's probably nothing, like father said." But then he continued to say something that sent an ominous chill down her spine for the second time that day, leaving her with a very uneasy feeling herself.

"But winter is coming…"

The next morning was less gloomy, thank the lords. Eyra woke to a bright sun shining from a blue sky, and the crisp air promised a beautiful day ahead. The grim unease she had gone to bed with the night before had vanished along with the first light of dawn. With a spring in her step, she set about getting herself ready for the day, with her wolf pup running eagerly along her feet.

"You must be famished, little lady." She bent down to scratch the pup lovingly behind the ears. The wolf clawed at her legs with its little paws, whining softly. "I know," she cooed. "Let us go find you something to eat."

They headed down the stairs together, and after sneaking some raw meat from the kitchen to feed to her charge, she entered the Hall and found the rest of the family waiting for her. It was quiet in the room, and the mood was charged. Ned Stark and his wife sat at the head of the table looking solemn.

"Eyra, please sit down." Her father's voice was low and serious. "We have something to tell you." He shared a glum look with his wife.

Eyra found her usual seat next to Jon and greeted him with a question in her eye. He merely shook his head with subtle shrug of his shoulders, so she settled down and gazed up at her father expectantly.

"Last night we had a raven bringing news from King's Landing," Eddard Stark announced with sorrow colouring his voice. "Lord Arryn is dead."

A small gasp escaped Eyra's mouth and she saw the same shock reflected on all the other faces around the table, except for Bran and Arya, who were too young to understand the significance. Jon Arryn, her father's old mentor and Hand of the King… dead… She couldn't believe it.

"How?" Robb asked the question that was weighing on everybody's mind. "What happened?"

Ned hesitated for a brief second. "We do not know," he replied. But Eyra did not miss the loaded glance he shared with his wife, and she narrowed her eyes, wondering what they were keeping from them.

"And furthermore," her father continued. "King Robert has sent a raven informing us that he and much of his royal court is headed for Winterfell at this very moment."

The three youngest siblings let out cheers of excitement, but the three older remained grim as they shared knowing looks across the table. There could only be one reason for The King to make such a journey personally, and with half his followers nonetheless. He meant to ask their father to be the new Hand. And that meant Ned would have to leave Winterfell for good. Eyra pressed her lips together to keep from cursing out loud.