ﾟ✧･*✧･ﾟ* Her Beauty Don't Belong In The North ﾟ✧･*✧･ﾟ*
Amara Stark was the first lady born of Eddard and Catelyn Stark.
The people of Winterfell believed that she did not belong in the harsh cold north, that she was too beautiful and free-spirited to have the cold even touch her skin but she was a Stark nonetheless; a fearless one at that.
When Amara was nine years of age, Amara was told a prophecy of her life. She was in the woods with her two brothers, Robb and Jon when she found herself last. She came upon a cave that was Illuminating with fire.
She entered the cave to keep herself warm form the sharp air that ghosted her face, and in that cave, she came eye to eye with a woman.
"I've been waiting for you young flower." The women's voice was soft, low but it scared Amara. "I am to tell you of your life, lady Amara."
"How do you know of me?"
"You are the little lady of Winterfell, the flower in the white snow."
"My friends call me that." The young girl knitted her light red eyebrows.
"Everyone calls you that, it was the title given to you since birth. A title to tell of your beauty in few words, but it's not the only title that will be given to you."
"Why have you been waiting for me?"
"To tell you of your prophecy."
"My prophecy?" With doubt in her voice, Amara asked. She didn't want to believe the woman, she thought she might be mad.
"Of what's to come of your life. The events to come at the root of your beauty"
"My beauty?" Amara laugh.
"You are very beautiful, Amara and you will become even more so. Your beauty will induce envy, jealousy, war and so much more. Your beauty will be a curse and a blessing at times and — what you do with that beauty — will affect you — and the people around you." Her dark eyes, as dark as the deep sea gazes into Amara's Tully blue eyes. "Your beauty is a weapon, Amara. A weapon that could be for great evil or great good but just know weapons can be used by others or be it's own."
"AMARA!... AMARA" The voice of her brothers got closer with every shout.
"Go on now." Amara glance back at the woman's dark eyes. "But heath my words white flower; your beauty is a weapon but that doesn't shield you from this harsh world."
"AMARA!"
Amara looks to the woman one last time. She feared her words, feared it to come true. The little Stark girl ran off, hoping that the prophecy was a false one.