SAVAGES

by LolaStark

Author's Note: Whether this is your first time checking out one of my stories or your here to see how I could possibly make this rewrite any different than the last, I hope you enjoy. That being said, this is a rewrite of my very first story which had a lot of potential and I am re-exploring the characters I created and hopefully doing them a little more justice than the cheap versions I presented before. Please feel free to review at the end if it strikes your fancy. Many thanks to those who inspired me to write this!

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters or plotlines from George R. R. Martin's A Song of Ice and Fire. I only seek to write purely out of my own entertainment.

CHAPTER ONE

FALLON

The skies above did not open up that day. They hung low in the sky over the hills and through the forest that sung songs of the Northern wind. A low mist carried them through the moors and alongside the caravan of travelers on the road west. Ravens dared not fly in such solemn weather and instead waited, perched high above the clouds and in the bare branches of tallest trees. Only the short sounds of their occasional chatter could be heard alongside the sounds of the horses' hooves shuffling through the mud at a steady pace.

The winds of winter were nearly upon them. There was a dreariness to the North, she'd known all her life. She was no stranger to the bleakness of the grey clouds nor the eirie whistling of winds over the moors. But this was the mainland. She was not used to being so landlocked, so far from such simple access to the Shivering Sea. Her cloak was pulled around her shoulders but it hung loosely as she let the breeze pass through. Her long dark hair was blowing wildly in the wind that tinted her cheeks a pale shade of pink. Her hair was dampened by the misty winds, and strands clung to her flesh.

It seemed like ages since anyone in her caravan had even glanced at her, and even longer since they spoke. The ones who did only gave her sideways glances of forbearing and pity. These were her father's men, men she had fought alongside on the battlefield, men that now served her eldest brother Broden. The Lord's seat at Kingshouse was once occupied by her father, Drystan Magnar. Now, as she was sat upon her mare, she wondered after the man who had been sent to the Wall to join the Black, relinquishing all ties to his titles, his lands, and his family.

And as further punishment for her father's crimes, crimes that were still vague and unclear, she was torn from her homeland and sent to live as a ward in a stranger's home. It was a sacrifice she was willing to make to spare her youngest brother, Corran, whose fear had been apparent despite his steadfast composure. She, however, would not show the fear she felt welling up inside, the fear that she had now buried deep within her. These men, who had watched her grow from a babe to the young woman she was now, would not respect such weakness. A daughter of Skagos did not show fear.

The Nighean was brave.

There were far worse things to fear than living on the mainland, she reminded herself. Savage tribes ran wild on the island, stemming from the northern island of Skane, still untamed and still full of wild hellions who were the burden on their society. It took the discipline her father had instilled in his warriors to keep the land safe. On Skagos, she had faced worse than the Northmen.

Aedan, one of her father's most trusted men, rode on her right. He was younger than most of her father's council but had proven himself several times over in the battlefield against their enemies and the savages of the mountain tribes. He was handsome, his hair auburn and his face somewhat bare which made the corner of her mouth twitch slightly. He would never have a large beard like his father, Old Bard Friel. Aedan may have been one of the most brave of the Skagosi warriors, but he struggled to grow his beard, the masculine symbol of a true Skagosi man. Bard however, who had a full red beard, was a round, stout man with the strength of an ox. He reminded her of a large fiery bear and therefore, as a child, she had called him "Beardy" because of his beard's vastness.

Aedan was dear to hear, dearer than perhaps she could ever allow herself to admit. But it was true that she longed for his touch and his eyes which lingered on her even now to meet her own. But she thought perhaps she could not bear it if they did. So, she kept her eyes forward, on the horizon of moorland ahead.

His wife would care for him now, she convinced herself. Elsbeth, her older sister, would be by his side in the months and years to come. And Fallon, alone and still unwed, would be sentenced to her life here on the moors under the mercy of the Warden of the North. She would likely never marry, like her sisters. Ned Stark had given his word that he would do his utmost to find a proper match for her when the time suited her. But she knew better than to believe it would ever amount to anything. No Westerosi man would marry a traitor's daughter, let alone one from the island. She knew the stories Northmen told of the Skagosi, of their women.

But she would sacrifice it all now for the sake of her family. For Corran. It had been her choice, to spare her brother from this fate. Corran ought to grow up in Skagos and be a warrior like his brothers. She could not allow him to be subjected to this humiliation, his future in the hands of a stranger.

She shifted, feeling Aedan's golden-colored eyes burning in her direction but she didn't dare look at him in case he might see the fear in her own. She did not know what to expect for her future at Winterfell. Perhaps the old lord wouldn't be as harsh as she'd imagined. All she knew of Lord Eddard was what she'd heard from her brothers and despite their distaste for the man, he had still spared their father's life.

Not many Skagosi men had good things to say about the Warden of the North. The man was a Stark, the very bloodline who had stripped Skagos of its rightful throne. It was the Starks who had reduced the Magnar name to such low status. Northerners and Skagosi were not the same and yet they both were one, the collective "North" that was ruled under one king. Robert Baratheon.

Instead of looking to Aedan for comfort he wasn't free to give, she glanced to her left where his sister, Enat, was riding with her back straight and upright, with her hair hidden beneath a dark green cloth. Her hair was as bright as fire, a Friel trait. Enat was a handsome woman, who had always drawn the attention of men wherever she went. Even Fallon's elder brother Rowan had sung songs of her beauty. Northmen spoke often of the deformity and ugliness that was a Skagosi woman. But the fact remained, Magnar women were known throughout Skagos for making men fall to their knees. Fallon, did not have the Magnar looks, the fine lips and cheekbones that the Skagosi warriors were drawn to. She inherited none of her father's features, only a few traits from her mother, a beauty with dark hair and a cold smile. It had never mattered much to her, however. Her duty did not rely on beauty. Men did not admire her because of her cheekbones or her smile. The Skagosi warriors admired her because she was one of them. Because she was the Nighean, a fate that had been her greatest honor to receive.

Fallon was the youngest daughter of House Magnar. Only Corran was younger, still a child to Fallon at only three and ten years passed his first name day. She fought back images of his face when she left him at the docks, waving after her mournfully. She had not allowed him to see her cry then and she would not allow her men to see her cry now.

Broden, her eldest surviving brother, was back at Kingshouse, their family's seat on the island off the coast of mainland Westeros. He was Lord Magnar now, a title that was never meant to be his, a title he that was now his burden. He would stay to protect their lands. It had been Rowan, however, who had insisted he would escort his youngest sister across the great landmass of the North to her new home. Rowan, who was only one year her senior at eight and ten, had always been her closest sibling. Even the thought of being parted from him was still too much to bear.

She could see his dark hair up at the front of the caravan. He was strong, like Aedan, but with a passion and joy for life that he and Fallon had once shared. The two men had bonded over their success on the battlefield as well as off. She had yet to see his face since they departed the Dreadfort, and found herself willing him to look in her direction. He did not and she thought perhaps that maybe the pain of her absence would be just as difficult for him as well.

It had been the Dreadfort that had instilled such fear deep inside of her as they rode. She had never met a Bolton until now and gods willing she'd never meet another. Northmen called the Skagosi savage. But Fallon was sure she had never met a man more savage than Roose Bolton. At the Dreadfort she could hardly sleep as she tried to tune out the screams of men being tortured in the dungeons. She was used to such things, horrors more terrifying than anything Lord Bolton could conjure deep within his cellars.

But there was a difference between the savages of her homeland and the savagery of proclaimed civilized men here in the North. She only hoped House Stark upheld more upstanding morals. House Magnar may have been old fashioned in their customs, but they weren't barbarians.

Barbarians were the men who wiped through their villages in the night, stealing Skagosi women and ripping out the hearts of their men with little else than their bare hands. Savages were the ruffians of the clans who dated back to the purge of Skane, the northernmost isle of Skagos where the bloodiest of battles had been fought to free the people of their fear. She knew these kinds of savages. But what worried her, was not the men who were openly brutal but the refined nobles of the North who seemed savages of a whole different kind.

Far in the distance she could see the sun hanging low in the sky as it fell into evening. The sun was of course hidden by a large patch of clouds that sunk down towards a structure in the distance. She looked to Enat who nodded slowly, indicating exactly what she had been thinking. The large structure that would now be her home was drawing nearer.

Winterfell.

THEON

Winterfell was abuzz with anticipation.

It had been three months since they were informed that they would be housing a new ward. He was not the only one who nearly spit out his drink when Lord Stark had told them the ward was of House Magnar on Skagos.

Many of Winterfell's inhabitants couldn't decide if they were uncomfortable or intrigued by this news. It wasn't often that people of the mainland interacted with those from the isle of Skagos. It was close enough to be considered part of the North, but Northerners knew the savages that roamed the steep cliffs and low valleys were not of the same lot as their own.

For Theon, he didn't mind the idea so much. After his tenth name day he had become a ward of Eddard Stark, sent to Winterfell as a hostage for his father's war crimes and rebellion against the Iron Throne. He'd been considered a savage then. Ironborn and unfit to some to walk the halls of the nobility that housed him. Nine years later he found to his surprise that the Stark family treated him well and often more like a son than his own father had.

This new ward would serve as something new for the people of Winterfell to gawk at. No longer would he be the outsider.

No one knew which of Drystan Magnar's children he had sent to be their new ward. He'd overheard a hurried conversation between Lord and Lady Stark about the child in question and that they worried it would not be an appropriate choice. But Ned would not bend on the matter and Theon wondered what kind of person could cause such an uproar.

Theon stood behind the family in the courtyard once the riders had been spotted. It wasn't a formal greeting, but Lord Stark had insisted they pay proper respects to their guests. Lady Stark had prepared a humble feast for the Skagosi who would stay on for the night. Then they'd be ushered back out the way they came and sent off on their way, back to the savage land from whence they came.

One of the guards turned from his position on the gate tower and looked down to Lord Stark, waving his hand. They were nearing the gates, he realized, and straightened his stature. He knew the signal and watched as several other guards reached towards the crank and pulled open the gate. It took nearly six men to raise the gate high above the under the arch.

The riders came in, one by one until all eight of them waited before the Warden of the North with solemn looks upon their faces. Such hard expressions were to be expected. He'd never seen a Skagossan, but he'd heard all the tales of their unpleasantness.

Theon looked to Robb who stood next to his mother, Sansa who stood next to Robb. One day long ago he found himself wishing he could stand at Robb's side, the brother he'd known nearly half of his life. But instead he stood next to Jon, Lord Stark's bastard and the rejected burden of Lady Stark. And soon, this new ward would be at his side as well.

"Lord Stark," Theon heard and looked up to see the young man that had dismounted his horse first. He had dark hair, but eyes were like springtime as he stepped forward, bowing curtly to Ned who waved him to his feet. "I am Rowan, brother to Lord Broden of House Magnar."

Theon furrowed his brow as the young man spoke, his distaste apparent and his lips downturned into a defiant frown. He knelt, just enough that it was of courtesy to his better, and then watched as he stared in confusion at Lord Stark's outstretched arm. Rowan did not take it at first, glancing back at the men behind him who still sat discourteously atop their stallions. He then turned back, pulled his arm from his side and took Lord Stark's with his own, in customary greeting. His sleeve fell back just enough that Theon noticed intricate patterns of faded black against his skin, coupled with scars of some brutal nature.

He frowned too then, wondering if this young man was to be his new peer. He begrudgingly admitted to himself that Rowan was handsome enough to draw positive attention from the women at Winterfell. Theon did not like the idea of more competition. Robb and Jon were difficult enough to contend with, though neither was willing to stoop to Theon's tactics. Theon could have any woman not of noble birth that he chose. But with a face like Rowan's to compete with, perhaps his conquests would be more scarce.

Despite the admiration he'd gain from the female population in the North, Rowan's amiable looks would not erase the damage that his scowl would do with their master.

"Young Lord Magnar, welcome to Winterfell," Ned replied and Theon's eyes scoured the rest of the figures on horseback. He took note of the other five men present, most were older than the young Magnar standing before them. One looked roughly the same age.

They were also accompanied by two women, both looked young from where he stood, but old enough that he felt his interest stir. He was always intrigued by the sight of a pretty woman. Both seemed fair enough. The first had her hair covered by cloth, concealing most of her hair which disappointed him, slightly. The second shared the same scowl as the man standing before Ned Stark, the same narrowing of her eyes. Her hair was partially covered in the hood of her cloak but her hair, raven black, still blew relentlessly beneath it. She sat up straight on her mare, looking away in disinterest as she stared off at the sun falling over the trees.

She did not look back until Rowan walked over to her, standing next to her and gave her a curt nod. Theon could not believe his eyes when the man did not even offer a hand in assistance, and simply stood and waited as she dismounted the beast on her own. She made quick work of it, and Theon's brow rose in mild intrigue as he glanced over her once more. She wore a simple gown, something plain made out of wool. She pulled back her hood, then placed her hands in front of her, looking up at the other girl on the horse once before glancing back at the family.

"And may I present my youngest sister, Fallon," the young man announced through his thick burr, though Theon could not see much resemblance as they stepped closer.

She seemed uncomfortable as she tried her hand at curtsey and failed at a graceful execution. Instead she wobbled once, her cheeks flushed a pretty shade of pink and then stepped back at her brother's side. She was fair enough, he decided. She had no exceptional beauty about her that was likely to lead any of the Stark boys to debase themselves for a Skagg. Theon found her mouth unpleasant and her small frame too short for his liking. Perhaps if she smiled, he thought. But soon enough he discovered Fallon Magnar was not a lady who gave her smiles freely.

"Lady Fallon," Ned replied, taking her hand in his and pressing her small hand to his lips. "We welcome you to our home." Theon noticed the unease in his master's eyes as they met those of Fallon. He paused slightly, recovering quickly when he realized his mistake. As ward, Fallon Magnar was now lady to no house. Her status stripped just as Theon's once was.

"I am grateful to your hospitality," she replied stiffly, her voice carrying over the crowd, her accent not quite as thick as he'd expected.

"May I introduce my family," Lord Stark attempted, clearing his throat as he gave the girl a kind smile. "My wife, Lady Catelyn," he paused long enough that Fallon could make eye contact with each of them. "My eldest son, Robb and my eldest daughter, Sansa. My daughter Arya, and my youngest sons, Brandon and Rickon."

Theon was not sure if it was a mistake, but he thought perhaps Fallon's eyes softened at the sight of the Stark children, particularly the youngest of the five.

"We welcome you, into our home under my protection, as a ward of my household," he announced then and several mutters and whispers could be heard throughout the crowd in some confusion. Even Jon shifted slightly at his side and Robb's brow furrowed.

Theon watched as Lord Stark escorted the young woman inside and tried to fathom how Drystan Magnar would allow his daughter, who was very much a young woman of marriageable age, to be kept hostage in place of one of his sons. Theon realized as they all entered the great hall that Lady Stark was correct to be concerned. Fallon was not a child, or would not be for long. As ward of Lord Stark she could not leave or marry without his expressed permission. She could likely be a hostage all her life if Ned so wished it.

Just like Theon.

ROWAN

Fallon had never been one for pleasantries. She had no need for them on Skagos. Everywhere she went the people knew who she was. The Nighean of the Magnar was the daughter of Skagos, the daughter of the people. And to each one of them she was treated like family.

Here, Fallon would be treated as an outsider, dealing in curtsies and forced conversation. He could already see the impatience in her tightened lips as they sat through dinner, Rowan sitting directly across from her as she toyed with her food absently.

He was too far away to kick her from under the table but each time he caught her eye he made sure that his disapproval was known. He didn't blame her, in fact, part of him was proud of his sister's stubborn silence. But the other part of him, the part of him that weighed heaviest on his chest, realized that the longer she allowed herself to be taken over by her disdain, the longer she'd suffer.

He had begged their father to take her place, quoting tradition, duty, honor all as his reasons until his father had roared out in frustration. Fallon was precious to them all, his father had said. But it was because of this that she must be given a choice and she had been the first to insist she take Corran's place. As they all knew she would.

Fallon was stubborn and had a temper to rival the savage Bricriu the Bloody of Skane, but no one would ever deny that she was selfless. The Nighean would fight and die for even the lowliest of Skagosi warriors. And Fallon Magnar was born for the role.

The hall was full of men and women housed in Winterfell under Lord Stark's protection. There was folly and drink, enough that even Bard was drunk with the merriment of an endless horn of ale. Rowan was wary of the ale, knowing too much intake would cause his judgement to falter and he would likely find Enat's bed. He would be no help to his sister then.

"Is it true there are unicorns on Skagos?" the boy Stark called Rickon asked and it was the first time he saw his sister's eyes move from the plate in front of her. She looked up in surprise, her eyes softening slightly and Rowan knew it was because the boy reminded her of Corran.

Still Fallon did not speak.

"We have a great number of wild creatures that roam the moors and mountains inland," Rowan answered when she didn't. "Unicorns are a most rare beast, but they travel in herds along the coasts in the winter. Fallon and I kept one as a pet as a child."

"A pet?" the young Lord Brandon asked next, his brow furrowing quizzically. "But don't you ride them into battle? That's what Old Nan says anyways."

Rowan couldn't help but chuckle slightly at the old legend.

"I think a unicorn would be much too small to ride into battle, what do you say Fal?" he asked and his sister sighed.

"Yes, quite small," was all she answered, reluctantly and continued to mutter something incoherent in the Old Tongue under her breath.

"Unicorns are not much larger than your average northern mountain goat, Lord," Rowan answered when Fallon refused. "But when one is spotted alone away from it's herd, it is tradition to raise it at Kingshouse for young boys and girls to train. The last unicorn we raised belonged to my brother Corran. He-" Rowan did not finish the sentence before Fallon stood abruptly, all eyes at the head table shifted to her as she did so.

"If you'll please excuse me," Fallon mustered. Lord Stark nodded, giving leave for Fallon to leave the room. Rowan gave no apologies as he followed quickly after.

He did not catch up with his small sister until they'd reached the outer courtyard and he grabbed hold of her arm, only for her to jerk it away. Her arm free she kept walking as she growled over her shoulder in the Old Tongue, "Leave me alone, Rowan."

"I will be gone soon enough," he replied and watched her steps come to a halt. "Or have you forgotten?"

She was still, contemplating whether or not she would relent and turn towards him as he wanted. She turned only slightly, glancing around at him under the loose strand of hair blown in front of her face. He spotted the frown upon her lips, her downturned mouth covering clenched teeth as she made her way back in front of him.

It was five full strides before he was glancing down at her.

"You know I didn't mean that," she answered him and the stubbornness was replaced by something rarely seen from his sister. Fear.

"I know it is difficult," he whispered, placing his hand on her shoulder and she immediately placed hers over it. "But I promise you, this is not forever."

"Father made the same assurances, but it's a promise neither of you can keep," she said softly. "At least Broden is sensibile," she added. "You want to believe that I'll be away for a year and then Lord Stark will send me on my way in a carriage back to Skagos. I'm here to pay for father's debts, his crimes against the crown." Rowan's eyes fell at her words, understanding the gravity of what she was saying. "That Greyjoy boy has been here for nine years! I don't even know if I'll ever set foot on Skagosi soil again."

"Don't say that," he urged, his voice soft, taking her face in his. "The Starks and Magnars may have their differences, but Ned Stark seems an honorable man."

"How can you say that after what he did to our father?!"

"Stop idolizing him!" Rowan ground out. "You think he is a man separated from men. But he's not." Fallon did not like the words, her eyes dancing as they glistened. "Father made his own choices and he now he faces the consequences. Be good Fal. Be you and Lord Stark will see that the place you are really needed is at home."

She placed her forehead against his, the air cold enough that he could see her breaths as she tried to steady them. She was holding back tears.

"I am scared," she whispered so softly that he thought for a moment he'd imagined it. He pulled her then to his chest, letting her rest against his shoulder.

"I'd call you a fool if you weren't," he answered.

"I don't know how to be anything other than the Nighean," she replied. Rowan sighed, stroking her hair gently.

"You'll learn."

ROBB

There was chill in the air as morning rose at Winterfell. The sun had yet to rise but slowly peaked out above the horizon, teasing the watchers of the night into delaying their journey still moments longer. The travelers from Skagos had wasted no time in preparing for their journey home. He had perhaps though they might push off their travels for a day or two due to the predicted storms that approached but Rowan insisted that they leave at first light. Storms were not an obstacle worth avoiding, the young man had replied when Robb had presented his warning.

Robb was standing in the courtyard watching them ready their horses. He had always been an early riser and this morning had been no different. His father had left before dawn to set out towards the town for a meeting with the villagers. He never broke commitments even if it meant passing on certain responsibilities to Robb. Winterfell would be his one day, his father told him so many times he'd lost count. Robb didn't mind it, in fact he even enjoyed watching the Skagosi men saddling their horses expertly.

Despite their hard demeanors, he felt the Skagosi seemed as civilized and proud as any Northman he'd ever met. They seemed fearless, something he envied, having always wished to be fearless himself. He had been wrong, he realized, upon meeting them. He'd believed they would be welcoming savages into their home but nothing about them seemed savage. Uncouth perhaps, rough around the edges and clearly holding onto a grudge that was centuries old. But they held themselves to a quiet refinement, even with their darker expressions and indifference to the nobility of such a high house like the Starks.

They each carried rather large swords on their belts. He'd seen tattoos on most of them, even Fallon and Enat from just beneath the cloth of their dresses. They were warriors, he remembered and from what little he gleaned from conversing with Rowan and his friend Aedan, they had been bred for war. And no matter Robb's attempts at warm conversation, it was clear the Skagosi still held their contempt with the Starks as a whole due to Drystan's banishment to The Wall.

The son of Drystan was standing nearest to him, his horse only ten paces away. It was then that Robb noticed a quiet change in demeanor, in the entirety of the group, as they approached Rowan. Of course, once they stepped closer, Robb realized it wasn't Rowan that had caused the softness in their eyes at all. It was Fallon. Her cloak was slipped over her shoulders, a wild fur that was slightly matted and brown. She reached out, taking Rowan's hands in her own as she looked up at him with pleading eyes.

Robb had heard many tales of Skagosi women, none of them told of how he would feel when he looked upon this one, tears falling down her cheeks. She tried to hide them from her brother but the young man only wiped them away with his fingers and pushed the corners of her lips upward into a forced smiled. She then hugged the remaining men one by one, each one of them kneeling at her feet and kissing her hand. It was a peculiar act, as each bowed their heads and let their lips graze over the inside of her wrist.

The last man did the same, approaching Fallon with solemn eyes and he knelt, closer to her as he placed his lips against the inside of her wrist for many moments, then rested his head in anguish against her stomach. Fallon fought tears once again, swallowing forcibly and her lips shook. Her fingers brushed once through his hair and she placed her hand under his chin, forcing him to rise with her gentle touch. When he stood, he placed his lips on her forehead. It was an intimate gesture, one Robb had rarely witnessed except in his own parents. His lips lingered several moments before he finally backed away and Robb felt as though he had just intruded on a private moment.

Rowan held her last, engulfing her in a hug that lifted her from the ground. Her arms were wrapped around his neck until she was placed firmly upon the ground and he kissed her mouth once in brotherly manner before mounting his steed. She placed her hand delicately on the horse's snout, stroking the black hair before placing her hand at her side.

She spoke with the corners of her mouth upturned though they quivered. Robb could see that it was a smile out of sadness rather than any semblance of joy. Her words were hushed, but even if she had shouted them, he would not have known their meaning. Robb knew the familiar coarseness of the Old Tongue. He had only heard it used a handful of times in his life but it was distinguishable from the traditional Northern burr.

Her brother replied and though Robb could not understand the words they spoke, their voices cracking as they said them, he knew that this was their goodbye. Perhaps there was more to it, some deeper meaning to the Old Tongue words they'd uttered, but regardless, they said goodbye in a way that stung somewhere within him.

Rowan squeezed Fallon's hand and then let it fall as he shouted orders, again in his home tongue, to his men. Her eyes followed after them, walking at a hurried pace until she was at the gate and she placed her hand on the stone columns as they rode off through the mud, leaving her hem several inches of soiled with it.

It was only once they were through the gates and out of sight that she turned away from the whispers of Winterfell's soldiers who watched her closely, inspecting her reaction and undoubtedly belittling her with their smirks. He could have sworn he heard one of them mutter 'Skagg," under their breath. He'd heard the term all his life, but was forbidden from using it. It was a nasty term for people of Skagos, his mother had explained. Never again had he used it but it wasn't until now that he had understood his mother's meaning when she'd dubbed the term "nasty."

She walked quickly in his direction, away from the stares and hurtful words, but her eyes did not meet his, not even as their paths intersected. He was not sure what made him reach out to her, placing his hand on her arm lightly as she then came to an abrupt halt. His hand rested carefully around her elbow and though the touch was gentle, one might have thought Robb had struck her the way she flinched. She stood there, unmoving, unyielding to his look of concern. Her eyes were focused on the walls behind him and nothing else.

"You are safe here," he whispered to her and watched her eyes stagger for only a moment before they sought out the ground. "No one will hurt you."

Her eyes traveled up from the ground and connected with his. It was the first time he'd seen her look at him and Robb realized for the first time that her eyes had something wild within them. Not savage, no, he thought. She was wild and the look she gave told him she would not be tamed.

She looked at him for a long moment, their eyes locked and something pulsing through his fingertips as they wrapped around her elbow. But no words passed between them as she then jerked her arm from his grasp.

And then she was gone.

Robb had never had such an negative interaction with a woman before. In fact, most women were very kind to the heir of Winterfell. He was accustomed to kindness having been raised by a kind woman with a warm heart. Fallon too seemed kind and warm when she spoke to her men and to her brother. He wasn't expecting to be on the receiving end of such harshness directed at him.

But to her, he reminded himself, he was a stranger. And he if the roles had been reversed, and he were thrown into a world unlike his own, he wasn't sure that his reaction would have been altogether so pleasant either.

A/N: Last thing and I'll shut up and let you get to that reviewing thing (you know you want to). You may not notice too many differences from the first chapter because I felt like not much from the original chapter one had to go. But some major changes will be made with this story. Some characters will be erased from this version as well. So stay tuned and let me know what you're thinking. xoLola