( ACT 1: chapter 3 )
𝙻𝙸𝚃𝚃𝙻𝙴 𝙲𝙰𝙽𝙰𝚁𝚈
a 𝐁𝐈𝐑𝐃 𝐒𝐄𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐄 chapter

a year later...

289 AC. nine years before game of thrones.

Alysanne had always thought that canary birds lived in warm places. Now, looking down at the elegant metal cage in her lap containing the little yellow bird chirping about, she wasn't so sure.

The canary had been a gift from one of Lord Stark's brothers, Bastion Stark, a ranger from the North that was said to rarely ever spend time in the company of other humans, let alone come visit his brother at Winterfell. The man was a wanderer and had renounced any and all titles he had inherited from House Stark after Ned's father and brother were executed by the Mad King. After that day, instead of following his brother's lead and taking his father and brother's places as Lord of Winterfell and warrior, he had abandoned his sword, shield and name, choosing to go by the nickname Wayfarer as he roamed the lands in the North.

Robb had told her that he rarely made an appearance at Winterfell, only once every few years, when something happening spiked his interest. This time that something had been her arrival at Winterfell.

He'd arrived unannounced on a cold day amid the boys' sword fighting lessons, riding a rough-haired, sturdy brown horse and carrying nothing with him except a metal cage in which Alysanne could see a speck of bright yellow that she quickly identified as a little wild bird.

He looked grim in appearance, with long brown hair that looked like it has never been washed, a dark green cloak tainted with mud and dirt, and old brown boots. He had darker hair than his brother and lighter blue eyes, though the shape of their jaw and wide cheekbones gave both of them a sense of likeliness. In short, he looked slimmer and sharper than Lord Stark, like he'd once been starved and had never managed to regain the weight he'd lost. He also had wider eyes, sunken cheekbones, and a large nose that was noticeably crooked at the end.

Bastion Stark strode in past the gates of Winterfell with the agility and expertise of an old, wild cat who was well practiced in his art, keeping his head down and a hood over his head as he reached the courtyard, waiting to be noticed by someone rather than announced. His horses halted near the stables and Bastion's cloaked figure pulled out a pipe from one of his many pouches and discreetly observed Jon and Robb as they fought one another with wooden practice swords.

Alysanne seemed to be the only one who'd noticed the abnormal presence in the courtyard, from where she was sitting on the wooden fence opposite the stable, where Bastion was observing his nephews quietly. She stared him down, no longer caring for the two boys hitting each other with toy swords in hopes of winning something.

And just as she was about to alert one of the boys at his presence, Robb suddenly turned around to face the nameless figure and quickly dropped his sword, a smile breaking across his face as he raced towards the mysterious man and his horse. "Uncle Bastion!"

Alysanne frowned. She thought Ned Stark only had one living brother, and she had met him within the first month of her arrival. This wasn't him. No, this was a dirty man who looked like he surely stank of dirt and sweat that had accumulated on his skin over at least a year. He had no armor with the House Stark's sigil or even a shield, only a rusty long sword strapped to his side.

'Uncle Bastion' saw Robb coming before the boy had even dropped his sword, and swiftly, he dismounted his steed and landed on the ground with as much disgrace as one could muster while carrying a sword that heavy. A smile adorned his features as he pushed back his hood, put away his pipe, and just as Robb was about to collide head-first against his chest for a hug, the man reached a hand out to stop the boy in his race by ruffling his hair strongly.

"Missed me too much to stay away, didn't you?" Robb laughed as his uncle poked fun at his enthusiasm heartily.

"It's good to see you, Uncle Bastion," Jon spoke up as he stepped forward, past Alysanne.

The Wayfarer chuckled. "Likewise, boy. Now introduce me to the girl of the hour, your future wife?"

Jon blushed, Alysanne could practically feel his face getting hot and could see very clearly his cheeks flushing red, just like they would have if he'd been running through the wood. His chin stood so close to his chest that the front pieces of his thick black hair that were starting to curl with age had fallen out of place to brush against his upper lip. 

"Not my future wife," He mumbled sheepishly. "Robb's."

Bastion Stark groaned. "Sorry, boy. I always get it mixed up." He apologized for the mishap but the little smirk he shot Alysanne from under the hand he had massaging his eyebrows said otherwise.

Her face felt hot, which threw her off because she had no reason to be embarrassed.

Before she could delve into the meaning of the emotions she was feeling currently, Wayfarer took a step forward and kneeled in front of her, just like Ned Stark had done when first meeting her. He took her small hand in his larger one and kissed it. Alysanne had to resist a frown when she felt the rough edges of his beard prickle the soft skin of her hand.

"And you must be the Lady Alysanne, Robb's future wife and the next Lady of Winterfell."

She allowed for a small smile to grace her features, not one earnest, genuine smile but one more akin to a polite smile that did not reach her eyes. An acknowledgment, one might assume. 

Bastion did not seem fazed by her relative silence, if anything he found it a nice change from the excited chattering of his nephews. He thought it would do both of them some good to have a sensible, calm Tyrell girl by their side. After all, it wasn't the hot head and fiery-tempered that made good leaders, but the calm and level-headed. 

"I brought you something, little lady." Bastion's voice was a curious thing. His accent was that of the North, yet the way he said his 'R's was different. Unlike the Stark boys and his brother, he rolled the letter when having to pronounce it in a word, bringing a tender roughness to the sound that Alysanne had only ever heard spoken smoothly. She also noticed he would ease tightness into his jaw when speaking, most likely putting on a voice different from the one he normally used, in case people around Winterfell were to be spies for someone who would want him dead.

The man had gotten up from where he'd been kneeling in front of her and had retrieved the cage containing the little yellow bird from his horse's back. He walked back to her, the boys parting for him as they would for their king, and returned to his previous position, kneeling in front of her, despite the snow drenching his clothed knee. He held out the cage for her to take, which she did, gripping the steel handles tightly. 

"Do you know what this bird is?" Alysanne shook her head at his question but kept her face pressed against the cage and her eyes on the yellow bird. 

"It is a wild yellow canary." He explained. "It was gifted to me by another ranger from the North by the name Aranarth. It is said that yellow canaries are considered a positive omen to those who see them, they are sensitive creatures and symbolize joy, safety, and the sun's energy." 

"I thought they symbolized a forthcoming death in one's family," Robb said. 

Bastion turned to look at him. "Only the merchants in the South can come up with such delusions." He scoffed, ruffling Robb's hair to stop him from spewing more stupidities. 

Jon stepped forward to observe the canary from a different angle. "So, they're a sign of good luck?" 

The boy's uncle shrugged, "Depends on who you're asking really." 

"Have you ever heard of the story of the two wolves and the little yellow bird?" All three children shook their heads at Bastion's question, though they were eager to hear more. 

He continued, "Well, the fable is about two brother wolves who happen to one day get separated from their pack as they are hunting. The two wolves end up miles away from their pack's den in the middle of a snowstorm, one big one with brown fur and one small one with white fur. Imagine, they cannot see anything, smell anything or hear anything besides the wild winds of the North." 

"Sounds scary," Jon says. 

His uncle agreed. "Very." He took a breath before resuming the tell of the tale. "Eventually, as night begins to fall, the two wolves start to lose hope. They are cold, and hungry and have not yet found shelter to sit out the storm. When suddenly, the older wolf sees, flying right in front of them," 

"A little yellow bird." Alysanne cut him off. 

Bastion smiled. "Very good. The older wolf saw the little yellow bird first, so he deemed it was only just he should get to eat it for dinner. So when the yellow bird started flying away from him, he abandoned his brother as he slept and started chasing after the yellow bird."

"Why would he leave his brother? That's unfair." Robb pointed out. 

"Sh, patience, boy." Bastion chastised before reprising his story. "The bird was smart. It knew it did not want to be devoured by the older wolf, so it flew into a lion's den."

"Did the wolf follow the bird in?" 

Bastion nodded. "The older wolf was so focused on catching the bird, he had not realized the bird might not let itself be cached. So he was led into the lion's den and devoured, while the little bird escape through a small crack in the rocks." 

"What about the White Wolf?" Jon asked quietly.

The Wayfarer turned to look at him, giving him an odd look Alysanne couldn't quite decipher. "The White Wolf woke up to the sound of the lion roaring as he devoured his brother. He saw the little bird fly over his head and decided to follow it." 

"He shouldn't try to catch it if his brother died trying." Alysanne pointed out. 

Bastion nodded. "So he didn't. He traveled up North, following the bird but never trying to devour it, despite how hungry he got." 

Jon interrupted his uncle. "Did his patience pay off?" 

Bastion shook his head. "The white wolf died of starvation just minutes away from being led back to his pack by the yellow bird."

The three children were too stunned to speak for a moment. 

"That's not fair!" Jon protested. "He didn't try to eat the bird and died anyways!"

Alysanne rolled her eyes. "That's the point. He learned from his brother's mistake and recognized the bird was not prey but a guide." 

The boy refused to give up." No. He died, so there's no point." 

Just as Alysanne was about to respond, a familiar voice cut their time with Bastion short. 

"Bastion! You old dog, come here!" It was Ned Stark, walking towards the four of them with his arms open, adorning a grin so big it might have split his face in two if he tried to smile any harder.

And as if he'd never let the tale of the two wolves and the little yellow bird escape past his lips, Bastion Stark stood up, towering over the three of them now that he was no longer kneeling to be on their level, and made his way towards his older brother with a grin on his face. The two brothers collided in an embrace that would only be painful if one didn't have years of training in combat and fighting in Robert's Rebellion behind them. 

"It's good to have you home." Ned's rough voice finally came through, despite being muffled by the hood of his brother's cape against his lips. He slapped the Ranger on the back once, then twice before breaking their embrace. 

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ- 

That night, Robb offered to help her carry the canary's cage back to her room. If the idea of help meant that the eight-year-old had carried the cage for her as she walked by his side, empty-handed, then he had fulfilled his offer. She watched as he slid the metal cage over on her bedside table instead of letting her do the simple task on her own. 

And as she watched him fluff her pillows and feed the bird for her, Alysanne was suddenly reminded of her grandmother's words to her over a year ago. 

"I won't love him." She had said stubbornly, before her grandmother had clambered into the carriage that was meant to take her back to Highgarden, while Alysanne stayed in the North, now and for the remainder of her days. 

The woman stopped on the last step of the wooden box provided to her by Lord Stark's ward, Theon. "You will come to, my child." 

Those had been her last words to her granddaughter of five, at the time, before she had closed the door of the carriage behind her without so much as a goodbye or any good wishes besides the sinister reminder that the fate of this alliance rested upon her hands. 

Now, a year later, she could say with certainty that one of the two loved the other, it just wasn't her. 

She knew Robb loved her by the way he offered to get her breakfast so she wouldn't have to get up earlier in the mornings. She knew by the way he'd insist on protecting her when she, Jon, and he played Knights, Kings, and Queen. She was certain of it when he would sneak her in on walks around Winterfell and would say 'we' when he spoke of wanting to govern it one day, or when he insisted on escorting her to her chambers every night and leaving her with a kiss on the cheek. 

And she felt incompetent when she couldn't even muster the same energy for him. 

That is not to say she was cold, aggressive, or passive towards her future husband, but she simply could not look at him the way the old hags in her and Sansa's sewing lessons would say she should. Every time she watched his mother, Catelyn, and how she behaved around her husband, her chest would constrict at the idea that this was what was being expected of her and would be until Robb Stark took his last breath in Winterfell, surrounded by their children and grandchildren. 

When Robb had finished installing the canary, she escorted him to the door, and as he stepped outside, leaned forward to allow him to kiss her on the cheek. "Goodnight, Lysa." He said to her simply. And with a slight nod of his head and a boyish smile, he was running off to bed. 

When she closed the door behind him, she felt the sudden weight from constantly being watched, surveyed and nagged by tutors, ladies, and the two boys being lifted off her chest as she was finally alone in her room. Alysanne made her way back towards her bed, her bare feet moving quickly along the cold stone floor before jumping into her bed and shuffling under the covers, knowing that the warmth of the multiple furs from animals killed during the various hunts would warm her as the snow stormed outside. 

And as she was about to blow out the candle by her bedside, her eyes lingered on the little, yellow canary in its cage just mere inches from her face. It stayed quite still for a wild bird in captivity, the warmth of the golden candlelight making his yellow hue look orange or brown as it chirped to itself relatively quietly. 

Alysanne thought of the tale of the two young wolves and the yellow bird. Thinking the story through made her heart race and she shivered uncomfortably, pulling the fur up to the crook of her neck. In a brief second, she blew out the candle and rolled over to the other side of the bed, so she wouldn't have to face the bird in the cage. And as she tried to put the fable as far away from her mind as she could, the only thing she could picture as she fell asleep was Bastion Stark's knowing smirk, etched permanently in her memory.

-ˋˏ ༻❁༺ ˎˊ-  

Meet Bastion! His face claim is Viggo Mortensen as Aragorn in the Lord of the Rings and I did incorporate a bunch of details from his character in that movie into this book because I love Aragorn sm. 

Next chapter is a time skip ! We're going to be moving forward a few year to when Alysanne is about thirteen for 1 or 2 chapters, then we're starting season 1 of GOT :) 

Thank you for all the love I've received on this fanfic, I've never gotten such fast responses to a new book before so that's exciting !