Chapter 3

I'd only been here one night, but Last Hearth was already living up to all of my fears. I'd spent the last fortnight begging, cajoling, and raging at my parents. It was childish of me I know, but it was the only tool I had at my desperate disposal. I half suspected my mother was close to caving under my tantrum, but it was all for naught. My father had been as unmoving as ice.

Just thinking about it caused my body to tense with frustration, but all my anger had been for naught. And so I'd found myself saying goodbye to Winterfell, Maester Luwin, my brothers and sisters, and heading north with only a small squad of Winterfell guards.

There was some irony to it, I could admit. All those months and years of wishing to leave Winterfell? I should have been more careful what I wished for. The journey north had been wretched enough. Half the time we slept in small inns and holdfasts with scratchy beds and drafty windows. The other half we slept on the hard ground with only a campfire for warmth.

When we finally laid eyes on Last Hearth, my worst expectations had been confirmed. We'd arrived late in the night, with little greeting but some bread and water and an escort to our rooms. Yet I could tell already it was a grim and cold keep. Yes, I was definitely missing the comforts of Winterfell, something I had not thought I would ever say.

A ray of light was shooting through the window into my eye, but I ignored it for the moment, huddling down further under the furs on my bed. There was just enough blankets and furs that I was warm in the bed, but I could also tell how freezing cold it was going to be the moment I threw them off. There was a small hearth in the room, but not enough to warm it. Whatever amenities Last Hearth might have, one thing it surely lacked was the warm water of Winterfell pumped through its walls.

Finally with a groan I rolled out of the bed, heaving the furs aside. It was as cold as I expected, and I hopped around the room in urgency to get dressed. There was a basin with water placed on a side table for me. I noticed with a grimace of disgust that there was actually a film of ice across the top. Breaking it, I completed my morning ablutions in record time, shivering as I exited the frigid little room.

No one had given me any instructions the night before, and I figured that meant I was being left to my own devices. So of course, my first action was to find the library. In Winterfell that had always been my sanctuary.

Stopping at the open door I had been directed to, I gave a hesitant knock and then peered inside. Instead of the Maester I had expected, there was some gaunt old man. I studied him for a moment. He had no Maester's collar, though there was a book open in front of him.

He must have sensed me somehow, because he looked up, flinty eyes meeting mine. "What? Boy? What are you standing there for?"

"Umm…" There was something about the man that was kind of intimidating. "Apologies Ser. I was looking for the Maester."

He gave a grunt. "Ser? None of that Southron nonsense here." Those eyes sharpened, studying me. "You're the Stark boy?"

I grimaced. Not surprising he guessed who I was, there had to be rumors of my coming here. "Yes…" I cut myself before I could drop another 'ser.' "I was looking for the Maester, I must have taken a wrong turn."

Another grunt. "No wrong turn. We don't bother with Maesters. More Southron nonsense. I keep the ravens and the books."

"Ahh…"

He slammed his hand down on the table with a sharp crack, eyes narrowing at me. "Stop with the hemming and hawing boy. In." He motioned sharply with his hand. "Now."

I blinked. I couldn't remember anyone ever speaking that bluntly to me since I'd been reborn in this world. Hesitantly I entered the small room. Eyes darting around to take in the small desk and the couple of bookshelves.

The old man ran a hand through his long white beard. "Well? Out with it. What do you want, boy?"

"Ahh…" his eyes narrowed at my stammering, and I forced myself to continue in a rush. "That is. Just looking for the library. To get a book."

"Mmm." He studied me again for a long moment. He was surprisingly intimidating for such an old man. "My nephew warned me you were bookish. Still. Didn't expect Stark to sire such a sniveling lump."

I felt a flare of temper at that. As much frustration as anger. "And I didn't expect Lord Umber's men to be so rude." The words spilled out before I could think, and I instantly regretted them. What a horrible first impression

The old man actually gave out a huff of laughter though, and looked rather pleased. "So, not entirely without teeth, eh?"

Desperately, I took a deep breath to try and get myself under control. With my luck, this guy would be some half-senile peasant who would lash out if provoked. Another deep breath and I put on my best 'lord's face.' The same one I had seen father use when on official business.

Then I forced a smile that only felt a little bit like a grimace. "I don't know what this 'nephew' has told you. And I am sorry for interrupting you. It was certainly not my intention to disturb your repast. As you noted, I am new to the keep. If you could provide some guidance, I would be most grateful."

He frowned again at that, jabbing a finger at my face. "And that's why you were sent here. If I wanted milk-sweet words, I'd find a whore. Speak plainly or don't speak at all."

The smile fell off my face as I glared at the finger between my eyes. "The. Library." I ground out through gritted teeth. "I'm looking for the library."

He leaned back at that, and gestured with his hands to the two bookshelves along the wall. "This is the library. Take what you want."

I stared at him aghast. This was the library? I'd assumed it was the Maester's study. Or well. Someone's study. There couldn't be more than two dozen books along the wall. Half of them titles I could recognize and had already read.

"This… this is the library?'

My stomach plummeted as he nodded his head. Not only was I stuck in the middle of nowhere, but what was I supposed to do with no real library?

The old man seemed amused at my expression. Even a hint sympathetic, though that was probably my imagination. "Not much to look at, eh? Might be I'll lend you some of my own books."

I shot the man an incredulous look. What sort of book's could this guy have? He looked a cross between a peasant and some grizzled man-at-arms that had seen one too many battles. Half savage as well.

Some of my thoughts must have shown on my face, because the amusement faded away and he was scowling at me again. "Or might not lend you anything. Seems to me, your problem is too many books."

I scowled right back. "How am I supposed to have my lessons if this is the library?"

I had been talking more to myself than the man, but he answered anyway. "I'll see to any lessons you need."

I gave him an incredulous look. "You?"

He gave a snort at that. "Don't give me that look boy. I studied in the Citadel in my youth."

"I… see…" I really didn't.

"I see to the lessons for my family and everyone else here. Mind, from what my nephew has said you don't need more book lessons. Lessons of another sort maybe."

That sounded suitably ominous. And his nephew again? "You're nephew?'

His flinty eyes took on a look of what might have been amusement at that. "Aye. My nephew. Jon."

Jon? He couldn't mean… "The Greatjon?"

Yes, he was definitely amused. "So they call him. Mind, I can remember when the boy only came to my knees."

Shit. Was this old man actually the uncle of the Greatjon? The lord of the keep I was staying in? I was regretting my earlier rudeness. Hesitantly I tried again. "My Lord…"

He cut me off with a sharp gesture. "I'm no lord, boy." He was frowning again. "Aye, I can definitely see why your father sent you here."

I gritted my teeth and stayed silent. Partly because I didn't know what to say, partly because I suspected I'd regret whatever came out of my mouth.

After a long moment, the old-man gave another nod. "As I thought. No. No book lessons for you just yet, boy. You'd best find my nephew first."

I couldn't afford to piss off an Umber on my first day here. Don't piss off the Umbers. I kept repeating that in my head to keep my temper in check. "And where can I find Lord Jon?"

He gave a shrug. "Go to the Hearth, boy. He'll be there, or someone who knows where to find him will." And with that, he turned from me back to the book on the table. A clear dismissal.

The Hearth was easy to find. And to feel. It was clear the entire keep had been built around it's hearth, and as soon as you entered you were assaulted with a wave of heat. If the rest of the Umber's castle was cold and dreary, the Hearth was a blazing furnace.

In truth, it was more like a dozen hearths in one giant room. In size, it actually dwarfed Winterfell's Great Hall, and was clearly the hub of the entire fortress. It wasn't really a meal time, but there were dozens of people milling around it. Older women in one corner knitting, others tending to a large stew pot. Children and dogs running around the tables. There were a half dozen clusters of men having small semi-private meals across the room.

It was a welcome change to the rest of the keep that was dreary and cold. Despite often preferring my solitude, I felt myself relaxing as I walked through the doors.

I was there only a moment, when a boy came running over to me. He looked to be about my age, but it was hard to tell for sure as he stood head and shoulders above me.

The strange boy studied me for a moment as I awkwardly observed him back. Finally, head tilted to one side, he spoke up. "Are you Eyron Stark?"

Hesitantly I nodded my agreement, and a giant smile lit up his face. "I'm Ned. Ned Umber."

I couldn't help but snort at his father's name choice. Could the sucking up be any more obvious?

Despite my snort Ned didn't seem offended though, and his grin widened. "I know right? That must be weird for you. I know everyone is always mixing up father and my brother."

That confused me. "Your brother?"

He pointed to a giant of a man off towards one corner of the Hearth. "He's named Jon too. Like father. But everyone calls him Smalljon"

I sent Ned an incredulous look. "Small?" Even from this distance I could tell the guy was well over six feet tall.

He flashed me another grin. "Small compared to father anyway! Besides." He puffed out his chest. "Uncle Mors says I'm already taller than father *or* Jon were at my age."

I could well believe it, if this kid was actually my age.

Suddenly Ned threw a companionable arm over my shoulder, drawing me to a table. "So. Eyron! What's Winterfell like? Are the stories true?"

I tried not to stiffen in surprise at the easy intimacy. "Ahh. Well. What stories?"

"They say the whole castle is warm! Warmer than the Hearth even! And that giants built it with Brandon the Builder. And it's the strongest castle in the whole North!"

I blinked at that sudden onset. "Well. I mean. I don't know about the giants. But it is warm. There's hot water pumped through all the rooms."

Ned looked suitably impressed at this information, and I found myself relaxing slightly. "You're so lucky to have grown up there! When I'm older, father says he will take me to see it. And the Wall."

"The Wall would be interesting to see…" I hesitantly offered. I mean, I had never wanted to go that far north. But you had to admit it would be kind of cool to see one of the wonders of this world.

"I know right! I want to visit the Wall and go into the Haunted Forest!" His eyes lit up. "Hunt the Wildings down, like my father and brothers."

I gave a hesitant nod at the avowed wish to murder a bunch of strangers. I never quite understood the anger at Wildings some Northerners professed. I suppose if I was back in college still, it would be labeled as some form of cultural prejudice?

Ned took my hesitation in stride though, and kept on yammering a mile a minute. "It's so amazing you're here! I know we're going to be friends."

I blinked again at this. I'd always been pretty isolated from my brothers in Winterfell, and there really weren't many other kids my age to socialize with. And that was without getting into the whole weirdness of the memories from my other life.

Some of my surprise must have shown on my face, because Ned finally trailed off looking embarrassed and awkward. "I mean. That is. If you want to be friends."

Man. The kid looked like a kicked puppy. "Ahh. Course I do! I just… never had many friends before."

God that sounded lame. I felt my face flood with heat. Ned though, lit right back up. "Me neither! I'm the youngest, all my brothers are older. They always get to ride out to visit the villages or fight the Wildings, and I'm stuck behind."

"Ahh." I tried to think of something to say. "That sucks?"

He nodded vigorously. "Yeah." He cocked his head. "Do you want to…" He trailed off.

I followed his eyes and saw the Greatjon approaching. I'd only met the lord briefly last night, but there was no mistaking the giant of a man. He had to be close to seven feet of towering muscle, fur and leather.

He was an intimidating figure to say the least, but since I was stuck living in his keep for the time being, it was best to be polite. I forced a smile on my face. "My Lord."

He scowled at me. "Boy."

Ned smiled up at him despite the scowl. "Father! Eyron was telling me about Winterfell…"

The Greatjon interrupted him with a grunt. "Good. Glad you're making friends." He squinted down at me and the frown returned. "Boy. Follow me."

With that he turned on his heels, marching from the Hearth. With no real choice I hurried after him, half breaking into a run to keep up with his strides. Ned followed along behind us.

As we exited the building, a draft of cold air assaulted us, all the more frigid after the warmth of the Hearth Room. Assembled in the courtyard were the riders from Winterfell that had escorted me to the keep. The Greatjon came to a stop in front of them, and so I paused at his heels.

The silence stretched on for a long moment before the Greatjon finally turned down to me, impatience in his voice. "Well?"

I blinked back up at him. "My Lord?"

One of the Winterfell guardsmen stepped forward. I recognized him as Jory, he'd been given command of the squad. Which I supposed was a sign of my importance or something. Even I had heard the rumors that he was tapped to become the next captain of the guard in Winterfell. "Lord Eyron." He gave me a wry smile. "We're to depart."

I blinked back at him in confusion. Why was he telling me this? To be honest, I was somewhat surprised he hadn't already left. "Ahh. Alright."

Lord Umber turned to me at that, anger on his face. "Alright? Is that all you have to say boy? To your own men who saw you here safe?"

I took a half step back from the sheer anger on his face. What was he talking about? "Ahh… umm…" I trailed off.

Scowling, the Greatjon turned back to Jory. "We'll keep the boy safe enough. You tell Ned I'll set him straight." He paused and nodded as some servants came forwards carrying packs. "Food and supplies for the journey back."

Jory inclined his head. "We thank you for your hospitality Lord Umber." He turned to me then. "You will be well Eyron? Any message for your parents?"

Glumly I shook my head. I wanted to go back with them… but I knew that was off the table. It would hardly help my stay here to say that wish out loud. "No."

The Greatjon was glaring at me again. What did he want? "Safe travels?" I ventured, half asking as opposed to saying.

Jory flashed an amused smile at that. "Indeed. We'd best be off before the daylight is gone." He turned back to the Greatjon. "We thank you again for the hospitality."

Jory and the Greatjon exchanged a few more pleasantries, and then the Stark contingent turned and rode off. We stayed watching them until they dwindled from sight.

Only then did the Greatjon turn to me, a frown on his face. "Boy, that was ill done."

"My Lord?" I was proud that I only stammered a little bit. It was damn intimidating to have that giant looming over you.

"A man needs to see to the needs of those under him, or he has no right to command. We're not Southron lordlings. You owe it to your men not to take them for granted. Ned?" He snapped, turning to his son.

Ned straightened to attention, speaking up quickly. "A Lord must care for his men. And for his guests. See they are supplied. Their equipment cared for. Show they are valued. A lord who can't care for his men is no lord at all."

His father nodded, turning back to me. "Those men saw you here safely. And if I hadn't fetched you, would you even have known they were gone?" His face twisted into disgust. "You're my ward. That means you represent Last Hearth now."

Why was he making such a big deal over this? I didn't understand, but knew better then to argue. "Yes, Lord Umber."

He snorted, leaning over me. "I see why your father sent you here." Why did everyone keep saying that to me?

"To think that a Stark would act as such…" The last was mumbled to himself, but loud enough for me to clearly hear.

I scowled down at my feet, feeling my face heat in embarrassment and anger. Ned shot me a sympathetic look, but that only made it worse somehow.

The Greatjon gave yet another grunt. "Nothing to say? Fine. You're coming with me then."

I'd been hoping to slink off. That sounded ominous. "With you? Where?"

"Lessons, boy. All day with me. Your father entrusted you to me. Its about time we started educating you."

I eyed him warily. I didn't want to judge, but the blustering giant of a man hardly looked like the sort to be teaching lessons. "Lessons?" I hesitantly ventured. "Your… your uncle said he managed your library?" There, I didn't even choke when calling their pathetic collection of books a 'library.'

The Greatjon must have seen something in my face though, as he gave a grim smile. "Met Hother have you? No, you ain't going to the library. I figure you've had enough of that sort of learning. You're coming to the yard."

I grimaced, but couldn't say I was completely surprised. From what I'd seen, the entire North was obsessed with fighting. I had figured I wouldn't be able to avoid more training here. Still, maybe it could be brief. "For… for how long?"

The Greatjon's smile took on a nasty curl, and I found myself taking a half step back. "Why… however long it takes boy. However long it takes…"

A/N: Well there you have it. The next chapter probably marks the 'low' point for poor Eyron (it will be ugly… I warn you now) and then of his starting to adjust to life in the North. Not that he won't still have challenges, but the next chapter is sort of the nadir and the "U" turn of the early story. I'm kind of excited for it too, since it is also the scene that mentally inspired me to write this whole thing. Also, I should note. The next chapter is the last of my 'pre-written' ones that I was posting up every week. I think the reaction to this story has been positive enough, and I have enough of it plotted out, that I will continue to write it. But after next week, folks should probably expect updates to be a bit more sporadic as I want to focus on finishing my other story.

Also, as a side note. Obviously northern houses often have Maesters. Hother saying otherwise was just his griping. But considering his backstory of being trained in the Citadel, I thought it might be a nice touch to have house Umber not bother with a full Maester and just use him.