Nedstarkdaughter Histoires

They say memory fades like breath on a windowpane. But not for me. I remember everything. The crunch of the snow beneath our boots, the metallic scent of iron and old blood from the beheading, the way the wind cut through the trees like a blade. I even remember what I dreamed the night before-the stag bleeding in the snow, antlers broken, wolves howling in the distance. I saw it in the flickering shadows of the fire, in the whisper of the wind outside our stone walls. I just didn't know it would come true. Not yet. I am Willow Stark, daughter of Eddard and Catelyn Stark. Arya's twin, though sometimes I think we are more like mirror reflections than sisters. Where she is fire and impulse, I am quiet and still-but not weak. Never weak.