Thorn of Winterfell

The Prince of Dragonstone

Syana Stark watched her brother pack his horse for the journey north. Creagan was taking the crown prince Jacaerys Velaryon to see the wall. Her brother got on well with the prince, and she found herself more endeared to him after his long stay. Her brother had agreed to honor his pledge to support Rhaenyra's claim to the iron throne. After he had struck a deal of course, to marry her cute little nephew Rickon to a future daughter of Jacaerys. Creagan had tried to betroth her first to the prince. She had bared her teeth at her brother and drawn a dagger, threatening him to try. But the prince had stepped in looking concerned and assured them it wasn't an issue as he was already betrothed to the lady Baela. Since then, the three of them had spent many weeks together.
Her brother's wife had died in childbirth and he was lonely. Their own brother was long dead, his bones resting in the crypts. A stone likeness of him all that remained to them. It was not easy to live in the north. The weather was harsh and the people were stern as a result. They took their responsibility of guarding the north seriously. Syana's father had always claimed the Starks had wolf blood in them that kept them warm through the long winter when others would die. She couldn't deny the Stark proclivity for sticking their noses where it didn't belong if it seemed an injustice was occurring. But she figured it was likely the hot springs that flowed through the walls of Winterfell that kept them alive in the cold. Their father was also long dead and she could remember the day Creagan had risen up to take his rightful place as heir.
It had been no easy feat. Their greedy, slovenly uncles hadn't been keen to turn over the power of Warden in the North. But in the end her brother had defeated them both, leaving them to rot in the cells under Winterfell. Their bones remained where they fell, no likeness of them carved in the crypts. Syana had been ready to hang them then but she remembered the way her brother had taken control immediately. And her uncles were forgotten in the dungeons below. That was three years ago and now her brother was only twenty one, still a young man and she thought it was him who ought to be looking for a wife. Syana was only two years younger than him but in Creagan's eyes she was ready to marry. Hence him trying to sell her off to the crown prince.

"Try not to fall off the wall, my prince. Tis a very long fall." She called out before he could mount Vermax.

"Ah Syana, Vermax would catch me before I hit the ground."

"Tis not that long my prince."

"Could you stop bothering the heir to the throne sister?"

"Could you stop trying to sell me off to strange men?" She countered.

"I said I was sorry!"

Jace and Synan laughed at Creagan's frustrated rebuttal.

"Have fun brother! Tell cousin Elric his last carving was delightful, baby Rickon has covered it drool at least a dozen times."

Their cousin had been chosen at random to join the wall, a Stark tradition no one was exempt from. Elric took it upon himself to become a ranger but he'd ended up working as a lumber workhorse. As a result he had become exceptionally good at wood carving.

"Stay inside." Her brother had commanded simply in return as way of a reply.

She stuck her tongue out at him, watching as they left the gates and grabbing her sword the moment her brother was out of sight. He hadn't expressly forbidden her from revealing that she was sword trained but she didn't want to start swinging it around the crown prince. So she had been itching to get to it, when Jace had asked to see the wall she had almost jumped with joy. He'd been here for weeks and while she enjoyed his company, she was relieved to have her home back to herself. She expected at least a week of solitude and planned to spend that time honing her sword skills. War was upon them and she did not intend to be left behind.
She'd already had that argument with her brother. It was one of the worst they'd ever had. Both screaming and throwing things. That was not like her brother, who was mostly a level headed man. But she had promptly promised him she would follow him to war. No matter where he tried to ship her off. She'd grab the first sword in her reach and slay any guard that stopped her. He had raged for days calling her a reckless, simpleton but given up in the end. She suspected he was still plotting ways to keep her out of it and was probably asking the prince if he knew of any single lords looking for a pain in the ass. That was another reason to hone her sword skills. She wasn't going to marry any man who couldn't best her in a sword fight, and that was to say she did not intend to marry at all.
It was ambitious of her or perhaps foolish, to think she could avoid marriage forever. A daughter of her name, it was a shock to anyone she wasn't already betrothed to some lord or another. It wasn't for lack of trying on her brother's part. He would invite them in and threaten her to treat them well. And she would walk intellectual circles around them and then knock them over in the yard. None of them wanted to marry her after that routine. It continued to work and her brother continued to seethe about it. She did feel bad for her brother, he was so young to have to deal with so much. But she wouldn't get married just to lighten his already heavy load.
Syana eventually managed to talk one of the guards into sparring with her. They were routinely forbidden by her brother from engaging with her unsupervised. But she knew what made northern men tick and extended taunts always worked to goad at least one of them.

"Well Wyllem, are you ready to have the grass rise up to meet you?"

"Tis bad luck to boast my lady."

"Gods I hope so. A little bad luck might make things interesting for me."
***
Syana did not get her week of solitude. Instead ahe was granted three very nice days before the raven arrived bearing the seal of Dragonstone. Her heart had sank as she opened it to find the most horrible news back to back. The prince's brother Lucaerys was dead and the first battle of the war had broken out in the Riverlands. Rhaenyra was summoning all of the great lords to Harrenhal which had been seized in her name by her husband the King consort, Daemon. Syana had ridden out herself to deliver the news against a chorus of voices that warned her against it.
The prince had known the moment he saw her, that much she felt in her bones. Jace had wanted to fly out right then but they'd managed to convince him he would be a better asset helping them guide the northmen to the rendezvous point.
It had only taken them a day to pack up and ship out. The men in Winterfell had been pledge more than a moon and were eager to get out. Autumn was fast approaching and there were too many mouths to feed as always. This would thin them out. A morbid concept to feel alright about but Syana had seen starving men. The desperate guilty look on their faces before they wandered out into the snow to freeze to death. It was better to let them die in battle with their blood roaring and the taste of glory in their mouths.
Syana had cursed the Blackwoods and Bracken for their pathetic feud. It was their fault the war had kicked off so soon. And it likely had nothing to do with the Black queen's claim. The bloodthirsty riverlanders were always warring. Always had some petty complaint to brawl over. She thought it was probably all of that thick humid air. Summer was a miserable affair in the riverlands, like wading in soup and trying to breathe riverwater.
The march was long and terrible. Every little late summer storm caught them, throwing wind and rain sideways into her eyes and ears. Today the rain stung like tiny needles as it hit her face. Her hood was pulled tight around her but it did little to keep her from getting soaked. They were camped in the neck while her brother talked to the head of House Reed. They'd been camped here in the raging storms for days. Greywater watch moved through the swamp and found you, not the other way around. So when her brother had finally disappeared in the night, she had assured the prince he was having the meeting and not to worry.
Most of the great houses didn't care for the Crannogmen but Syana had spent her childhood growing up with the supposed "mudsuckers" and loved them deepy. Myrian Reed had been fostered at Winterfell with Syana from the tender age of eight to twelve. And she hoped to see the girl again now before setting off to a war she might not return from. Her hopes were answered early that morning when she had woken to a queer sound near the sunken bog their camp was set around. Quiet and swiftly she had risen from her bed roll and crept towards it, bow pulled taunt. She looked everywhere around her, taking care to thoroughly scan the trees.
That's when the water had exploded outward beneath her, knocking her on her ass and causing her to drop the bow. Frightened momentarily by childrens tales of swamp monsters who ate human skin, she lay there shocked. Then Myrian had started a booming laugh that had her doubled over.

"Oh that's too rich. Seriously." She gasped in between laughs, tears streaming down her face.

Syana scowled before launching herself at Myrian. The two women fell to the mud, fighting like a band of cats. After getting muddier than seemed possible, they were falling over each other trying to stand. Now both of them were laughing much to the displeasure of the camp who had been woken by the commotion and had come to defend the Winterfell girl from whatever swamp creature had grabbed her. Only to find her wrestling the mud with a Crannogman. Mass grumbling went on but Syana paid it no mind.
It wasn't long that her brother showed up, the afternoon sun was trying its best to bake them all and Syana envied a frog basking in the swamp water. The Crannogmen did not officially declare for anyone, ever. House Reed did not command the people of the neck but Harry, the current lord of Greywater watch, had spread the news through the swamp. And soon they were inundated with small, slippery Crannogmen coming and going. That's when Syana's luck began to look up again. As Myrian pledged to follow them into war and she was glad to have her. Myrian was the best spear fighter she'd ever had the pleasure to know and her skills with camouflage were legendary.
They had camped in the neck another week, waiting for all of the various swamp peoples to have a chance to join their host. Next they would stop by the twins before heading to Harrenhal. The Frey's had already added their numbers to the King Consorts, a lucky break for them as the needed to pass through the twins to reach the riverlands. If Forest Frey had declared for the pretender, the Crannogmen would've had to sneak them through the neck. A most unpleasant experience even to Syana who loved the Crannogmen. She gazed around the camp, soaking in the quiet conversation and the sometimes raucous laughter that broke into the night air. And her brother had thought to deprive her of coming. What an idiot.