Snow fell quietly through the twisting and gnarling branches of the Wolfswood that surrounded Winterfell, drifting like tiny feathers through a dreary morning fog that seemed to wrap the surrounding woodland in a blanket of magic; one that stirred just beneath the visible plane, so tangible you could almost feel it brush your skin. It was mornings like these Lyanna loved the most, as wild and alive as the world around her, and nearly as free, save for the blue gown that hugged her slender frame and restricted her movement on occasion. With booted heels she nudged the young dapple grey gelding beneath her into a spirited trot, pale face flushed from her morning ride as eager grey eyes took in her surroundings through a veil of long dark curls.

Her freedom was short lived as a dark horse entered from shadows of the towering trees to block her path, a grinning young man, older than she though possessing very similar features, interrupting her carefree journey as she pulled the gelding to a halt. "Father sent me to find you...not that I minded the ride. We leave for Harrenhal shortly, he wants to be sure you are presentable." Her eldest sibling Brandon commented, a hint of amusement in his voice as he grinned at her.

Lyanna frowned, rolling her steely gray eyes in annoyance. presentable. She was quickly discovering this was her father's secret code for yoyr betrothed will be in attendance, and I don't want you looking like a wild woman. The thought seemed to deepened the frown on her face, sparking a chuckle from her elder brother. "Oh be quiet." She grumbled, turning the gelding back the way she had come, as Brandon urged his dark mount up beside hers.

"Oh don't look so melancholy, sister. Robert is a fine match for you. You may find you have a great deal in common, were you to give him a chance." He advised lightly, a gentle hand on her shoulder as they rode. Grey eyes quickly cut in his direction, a look that would have pierced his heart had it been a blade. "Very well. Come, I will race you back!" He challenged with a boyish grin, his heels connecting with the black beast's sides as the creature surged forward through the snow.

Her foul mood forgotten, Lyanna flashed a smile, seizing the reins of the grey gelding as she kicked her mount into a full gallop, laughing as the animal started into a blind gallop after Brandon.

~*~

The city was bustling around them as the prince and Ser Arthur Dayne trotted down the stone road. A detachment of Gold-Cloaks walked before them and behind them, forming a diamond shape in order to keep the rabble from getting too close to their prince. Rhaegar sat atop his black destrier, his silver locks flowing behind him as the wind ripped down the road. "So, what is so important that Pretty Prince Rhaegar has decided to muddy his boots in Flea Bottom just to have a look at?"

Rhaegar's dark lilac eyes fixed themselves on his friend and protector. "There is a small book shop down here." Dayne's white cloak rippled in the wind. Dawn clang against his white scaled armor with each bounce of his horse. Rhaegar always felt safe when his best friend was near. He had no need for armor. Instead, he had chose a red silk shirt and black trousers for the day's venture.

"And why," Arthur continued to press, "do we care about some book shop?" The people loved Ser Arthur Dayne. They rejoiced as the Sword of the Morning rode past them. They couldn't possibly be cheering for the prince, could they?

His squires followed along quietly behind the two companions. "We care, Ser Arthur, because the Spider has informed me that the owner is in possession of an ancient scroll. One he insisted I must read." Rhaegar and Arthur pulled up their reigns in front of a small building tucked between two larger ones; a brothel, and what appeared to be a soup house. "I am fairly certain this is where Varys said it was." The gold-cloaks formed a crescent around the door of the building, encompassing Rhaegar and Arthur as they dismounted. Arthur whistled and Myles Mooton, one of Rhaegar's squires took his Prince's reigns.

Rhaegar pressed his face against his destrier's own. "Wait for me, Balerion," he whispered into the horse's ear. Arthur followed his friend into the tiny shop. "Ah, Prince Rhaegar!" The old twig of a man looked at his two customers in utter shock. "What brings such royalty into my humble shop?"

He smiled at the elder, hoping to calm him. "I have come here because I heard you were in possession of an ancient scroll. One I have been told that I must look at right away." The old man shook his head. Had the Spider been wrong? No, Varys is never wrong.

Finally, the old man spoke up, explaining his expression. "I have received a number of scrolls in an expedition I had funded into the ruins of Summerhall." Rhaegar's face lit up as he recalled his favorite place. "I haven't the time to go through them, my self," the old man continued, "how did you hear of a certain one?"

Varys, and his little birds. Is there anything they don't know. "How I have come to know of these writings is irrelevant. I wish to see these scrolls. I will pay for those I end up taking, and rather handsomely." Without any hesitation the old man led Rhaegar to the back room, past a dark curtain.

He and Ser Arthur Dayne spent the rest of the afternoon reading, finally leaving the shop as the moon began to rise over the city. Rhaegar only carried out one scroll. "I must speak with Ser Oswell Whent. I must know who Rickard Stark is bringing south to the Tourney at Harrenhall."

Lord Rickard Stark sat atop his massive white destrier with a stern expression painted across his aged and weathered face, hidden mostly beneath a white moutain of a beard that fell to his chest and mingled with ivory hair that flowed to his shoulders like ice; despite his age the lord of Winterfell was as sturdy and hardy as the towering, ageless trees of the Wolfswood. When it came to his eldest son and his only daughter, his patience seemed limitless, despite their misadventures and shenanigans. His light blue eyes watched the gate, and he seemed no bit surprised when his two spirited spawn came charging through on sweat-soaked mounts, both red-faced, breathless, and laughing. A slight smile tugged at the corner of his lips as they moved to greet their father. "Trapsing about in the woods again,hm? What will I do with you child? Wild as the wolves of the wood. Go in and make yourself proper. We are off momentarily so do not dawdle." He warned Lyanna, though there was a gentleness hidden in his scolding that only Lyanna could find.

Kissing her father's cheek quickly, she gave Brandon a better luck next time smirk before leaping from the back of her horse and darting inside to change, dark curls floating behind her like a mane. Brandon chuckled as he watched her, but a raised eyebrow from his father killed the echo of his laughter quickly as he cleared his throat.

Lyanna's voice carried across the field some time later, fussing over the tightness of her elaborate new gown as she emerged from the keep, Nan trailing after her as she tried tucking Lyanna's long dark curls neatly into place, swatting at the girl as she tried to shoo the old woman away. The gown was a considerably lighter fabric than she was accustomed to, but her white-fur lining of her heavy blak cloak made up for the useless, shimmering blue material that floated around her figure like air, leaving the young Stark blushing and feeling exposed. At a nod from her father, she accepted the reins of a horse from her middle brother Ned, the quietest of the four Stark children, and certainly the most somber, and mounted the prettily-decorated white mare who was to take the place of her beloved gelding for the journey.

The procession began without a word, Lyanna falling into place behind her father at Brandon's side, sticking her tongue out at his teasing grin, before turning to check on Ned and little Benjen. Ned, who was generally content with the quiet of his own thoughts, was listening to the youngest Stark rattle on about something that had caught the "pup's" attention- as he was so often called by others in the keep. The boy had a knack for finding things to keep his interest, ever the curious one, which generally led to his older sister getting him into trouble, if she and Brandon weren't already up to some mischief.

The King's Road wound through the harsh snowy terrtain of the north all the way down to the fertile, plush Riverlands, splitting off to the east and west, and the western Riverroad would eventually lead them to their destination, as well as Lyanna's awaiting betrothed. A weary sigh escaped her lips at the thought. Robert Baratheon had been chosen by her father to eventually be her husband, despite her thoughts on the matter. Ned, being friends with Robert had naturally tried to calm and smooth over any problems she had voiced about the ordeal, but Lyanna was still less than thrilled about the matter.

Still there was little she could do to sway her father, and with another birthday quickly approaching, her fate was inevitable. Gray eyes glanced up at the clouds that gathered overhead and a slight smile played on the full lips of the only Stark daughter. "Winter is coming." She whispered softly.

Rhaegar rode with Oswell Whent and Arthur Dayne. Jon Connington tagged along as well as they trotted behind King Aerys II's large carriage. "Why did he insist on coming last minute?" Rhaegar groaned to his friends.

"I'm not sure. It was sometime after that last small council meeting. Him and Varys had stayed behind, and after that he announced that he'd be accompanying you to the tourney." Arthur was close to his sworn brother and Lord Commander, Ser Gerold Hightower, and sometimes took his position at the small council meetings.

"Do you think the spider discovered your plot?" Oswell never was too careful.

"What plot are you guys talking about?" Jon Connington pulled his mount up between Rhaegar and Arthur, trying to squeeze close to the prince.

"Keep your voice down, Jon. I will explain everything at the tourney." Rhaegar urged Balerion forward, leaving Connington to chase after his dust.

Rhaegar rode Balerion hard, leading him off into the woods that surrounded the God's Eye. He heard three set's of hoof beats behind him. He came to the edge of the God's Eye, dismounting and leading his destrier to drink. "Don't you think you should check on your wife, Rhaegar?" Arthur was the first to reign up beside him.

Jon followed shortly. "He doesn't need to hold her hand every second of the day. He is enjoying time with his friends now." Dayne shot the heir of Griffin's Roost a disapproving look.

"He's right, Arthur. She'll be fine. She's with her handmaidens." He stopped himself before mentioning how much he didn't care to see her anyway. The woman who had come north from Dorne was no longer the girl his father had forced him to marry. Two births had left her weak and sickly, though the last one gave him his son. Aegon, the Prince That Was Promised, or so he had thought. Rhaegar now knew that the Prince would need be of the Song. Why did the Spider see fit to help him with some certain ambitions, yet hinder him on others.

Oswell Whent reached into his saddle bag and pulled out a large skin of Dornish red wine. The group of friends sat in the grass, drinking and talking about their favorite moments from past tourneys. Oswell recalled the time Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper, crippled Willas Tyrell during a joust. "The poor bastard's leg looked like a broken rose stem!" Whent bellowed, spitting wine everywhere as he laughed.

Rhaegar found himself growing disheartened at the sudden change of mood Whent brought out as he laughed at another man's misery and decided to pull his small golden harp from his saddle bag. It was much smaller than his prized silver harp that he carried everywhere, but that made it small enough to carry on horseback. The noise quieted down as Rhaegar perched himself up on a fallen trunk and crossed his legs beneath him.

He began strumming the chords as the two Kingsguard and Jon Connington gazed out across the river, listening to Rhaegar's music. He, himself let his eyelids fall shut. In his mind he let his thoughts carry him on to wonder about this Stark girl. Rickard had told Ser Oswell that he would be bringing his entire family along, including his daughter, Lyanna. Rhaegar knew his destiny the moment he read that scroll. As he plucked at the harp his mind kept racing around one thought: I hope this Stark girl is strong.