Illyria Stark, eldest daughter of Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Stark.
The Northern Beauty who was impossibly more attractive than women in the North were known for being. This simple fact conjuring lustful tales of her porcelain skin and Tull...
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"Robb? Jon? Theon?" Illyria wandered through the snowy banks of the wide woods behind Winter fell, feigning fright in order to lure her older boys out of their hiding places.
A snap of a few twigs nearby, probably due to Theon's clumsiness, assured her that she was on their tail. "Quiet! Or she'll surely find us." Robb whined, lightly shoving the Greyjoy's shoulder.
"Boo!" Illyria shouted from behind them, lunging toward Robb's back. The other two fell back into the snow, howling at the shrill scream that escaped the heir's mouth.
"You have to do my duties for the next two moons!" Illyria taunted. Robb narrowed his eyes at the fact that they were all taunting him and wrestled his younger sister, pinning her to the ground.
Illyria's expression suddenly turned cold as she shoved Robb off from on top of her.
"You ripped my dress!" She complained, lifting the fabric to show a rather large hole towards the middle of the gown. "I'm going to tell father!" She took off running towards the castle, the boys running feverishly after her.
They all stumbled into Catelyn first, trying to avoid whatever thing she had to nag them about this time but she was used to all of their tricks by now.
"There you all are! Illyria, Septa Mordane isn't going to be too keen if you show up to your studies late, now hurry along." Illyira protested as she might but the Lady of Winterfell dismissed her time and time again. Robb stuck out his tongue at her as she begrudgingly dragged her feet towards the Septa who was already a few feet away, crossing her arms.
She'd already had her fifteenth name day, there was nothing more she could be taught about being a Lady. The only subject that held any interest to her was medicine and High Valerian, which she'd read every book there was on the two subjects in Winterfell three times backwards. She could nearly pass as a Maester by now.
Now was time for the game she'd always play with Septa Mordane, if Illyria could answer all of her questions right, she could leave the lesson early.
Illyria always won, she was known for being a smooth talker. Her sharp tongue was able to get her out of most situations, even if she didn't exactly know what she was truly talking about you'd never know.
Arya watched her older sister dance circles around their Septa in envy.
Mordane would't ever allow her the same opportunity, no matter how much she begged and pleaded. Not that Arya would ever be able to correctly answer all of Septa's questions anyway.
Arya made the mistake of fighting with Mordane rather than to listen. This was her first mistake. It was better to feign interest and pick up at least half of her pointless lectures than none at all. But of course Arya was never meant to be a Lady at all, let alone a proper one and anyone could see that.
