Author's Note: Hello, wonderful readers! I'm continually blown away by your responses to my story, and I can only hope that this chapter and the chapters to come will meet all your expectations! Thank you to everyone who reviewed, favorited and followed my story!

Special thanks to Maddie Rose for beta-ing this chapter!

Without further ado, enjoy this next chapter! Don't forget to leave a review :)

Chapter 3: First Impressions

Maliya trailed a short distance behind Uncle Oberyn as he casually approached the Starks, a lazy smile on his lips. Not for the first time, Maliya envied his ability to be at such ease in even the most stressful situations. She tightly laced her fingers together in front of her, attempting to put a pleasant expression on her face as she reluctantly moved forward to meet her new family.

Seven people stood in a line with varying expressions on their faces. Without even realizing it, Maliya's eyes moved down the line as she sought out her future husband, tuning out her Uncle as he talked with the Starks. When her eyes fell on him, she found that he was already watching her. Surprise flickered through her when she realized his face was just as guarded as hers.

You can do this, Maliya coached herself, taking a deep breath. You can pretend to play the dutiful Princess… and eventually, the dutiful wife. The thought made her feel like she was about to retch.

Before she could examine him too closely, her uncle called her over. "Maliya!" There was a wide grin on his face as he gestured for her to come closer, placing a hand on her back when she stopped next to him. "I would like you to meet the Lord of Winterfell, Eddard Stark. Lord Stark, this is my niece, Princess Maliya Martell of Dorne."

Maliya dipped into a low curtsey. "It is a pleasure to meet you, My Lord. Your home is lovely," she lied with the smile still on her face. The drab color of the castle and its surroundings could not compare to the vibrancy of her home in Dorne. Even the clothing here had no color. The Stark family wore varying shades of black, brown and gray that made her feel depressed by just looking at it.

Lord Stark was tall, with a long face, shoulder length brown hair and gray eyes. His expression seemed cold and distant until a small smile lit his face as he looked at her. Inclining his head in a bow, he said, "Thank you, My Lady. I hope that you will be happy here in Winterfell and will one day be able to call it your home."

"As do I, My Lord," Maliya nodded agreeably, hoping her smile didn't seem as forced as it felt. "Perhaps one day."

"May I introduce my wife, Catelyn Stark?" Lord Stark introduced, looking over at the woman next to him with warm eyes.

The elder woman curtsied, bowing her head so the top of her long auburn hair was visible. When she straightened, Maliya was looking upon the face of a beautiful woman with vibrant blue eyes, eyes that were surveying her critically, her lips pressed together in a thin smile. Amusement spread through Maliya. It was more than apparent that Lady Stark had more reservations about her presence than her husband did. Perhaps she had been against an arranged marriage for her son. Well, she wasn't the only one. "Welcome to Winterfell, My Lady," Lady Stark greeted in a stiff, formal voice. "I hope the journey from Dorne wasn't too terrible."

"Not at all, Lady Stark. It was my first time being away from Dorne and I found the experience both fascinating and exhilarating." This, for once, was the truth.

"That is reassuring to hear," Lady Stark smiled. Her hesitation was barely noticeable as she turned to her eldest son. "This is my firstborn, Robb, and your betrothed."

Maliya continued down the line and looked up for the first time into the face of her future husband. It took all of her training as a Princess of Dorne not to let her shock show on her face. Her first thought was that the rumors Arianne had heard were correct – Robb Stark was indeed very handsome. His skin was light, like the few people she had seen living in the North, something that she supposed she would have to get used to. He obviously took after his mother's side of his family. His dark auburn curls were cut close to his head and his piercing blue eyes seemed to stare straight through her. He was a couple inches taller than her, with a strong jaw and broad shoulders. His face was solemn, his lips unsmiling as he looked down at her, murmuring, "Princess." His deep voice, with his strange, northern accent that washed over her as he took her hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it.

One corner of Maliya's lips lifted. "We are to be married, My Lord," she told him drily, pointedly ignoring the strange fluttering sensation in her stomach as he kissed her hand. "Please, call me Maliya. The use of royal titles sounds so impersonal, does it not?"

"Of course, Prin – Maliya," Robb corrected, inclining his head. He still wasn't smiling. If this is his personality, it is going to be a very long marriage indeed, Maliya thought with a sigh. "You may call me Robb."

Unsure of what else to say to him, Maliya gladly moved out from under his unwavering gaze and continued down the line, a small smile crossing her face as she stopped in front of a young girl with bright auburn hair, her blue eyes positively brimming with excitement. "Sansa Stark, My Lady," the girl greeted before Maliya could speak.

She dipped into such a low curtsy that Maliya feared she would fall over. Maliya reached out to grab her hands and pull her up again. "It's wonderful to meet you, Sansa," Maliya smiled. "Please call me Maliya."

Sansa flushed a bright red, looking surprised. "Truly?"

"Truly," Maliya answered, squeezing her hands once more before letting go. "We are to be sisters, you and I."

"You talk funny." Maliya looked to Sansa's right to see a small girl with dark brown hair and her father's grey eyes.

The smile dropped from Sansa's face in the blink of an eye, a furious snarl on her lips as she shot a glare at her young sister. "Arya!" She hissed, appalled.

"What?" The young girl asked, sounding defensive and defiant. "She does talk – ow! Did you just pinch me?"

"Girls!" Both of them stopped arguing at their mother's reprimand and faced front with Arya throwing a heated look at Sansa whose face was flushed red to the tips of her ears.

"I am so sorry – " Sansa muttered, wide eyes on the ground.

"It's quite alright," Maliya interrupted softly, putting her hands behind her back and moving her gaze to the younger girl as she stopped in front of her. She put on what she liked to call her 'no-nonsense' look – she used it on Trystane whenever he was being a little prick and it seemed to have the same effect on the youngest female Stark. Arya boldly stared up at Maliya's hardened face for a couple of seconds before shifting awkwardly and dropping her gaze. It was only then that Maliya spoke. She leaned forward as if she were about to share a secret. "You know, in Dorne your accent would be considered strange and people would think you talk funny."

Arya opened her mouth and then closed it in confusion, as if she couldn't wrap her head around the fact that she was the one who was strange. Maliya allowed herself a small smile. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Arya," Maliya said to her before moving down the line again, stopping in front of a young boy who looked to be a year or two younger than Trystane. "And you are?"

"Brandon Stark," he announced, taking her offered hand and pumping it up and down firmly. Maliya could have sworn that she saw Sansa raise an embarrassed hand to her forehead. "But you can call me Bran."

Maliya couldn't help but feel amused. "That's quite a strong handshake you've got there, Bran."

"Thanks!" Bran grinned, puffing out his chest. "Robb and Jon have been teaching me sword fighting."

"Really?" Maliya raised her eyebrows, showing him that she was impressed. "I'm sure they're wonderful teachers, but if you would like I'm sure my Uncle Oberyn would be able to give you a few additional tips. Isn't that right, Uncle?"

Her Uncle smiled graciously, looking as if nothing would please him greater. "Of course!" He nodded, winking at Bran. "I can teach you a few of my secret moves - "

"Can I come too?" Arya interrupted eagerly, almost bouncing on her toes in her excitement.

"Arya!"

"Shut up, Sansa, that's the Red Viper!" Arya hissed in a loud whisper. "He's one of the best fighters in all of Westeros! Oh please, father, can I go too?"

"Arya," Lord Stark sighed in a voice tinged with both exasperation and amusement. "We will speak of this later." Arya opened her mouth to argue once more but he silenced her with a look and she quietly stepped back into line.

"I would be honored to train with you, Prince Oberyn," Bran smiled, sounding every bit like a little lord.

"Wonderful," he answered, as Maliya finally reached the end of the Stark line. Standing as close to Bran as possible was an adorable little boy, who was looking down at the ground so all she could see was his mop of unruly brown curls.

"And who might you be?" Maliya asked in a soft voice, crouching down so she was at his level. He peered up at her, showing her a flash of his bright eyes as he mumbled something under his breath.

Bran looked down at his little brother and nudged him forward. "Speak up," he urged gently.

"Rickon," the little boy murmured in a slightly louder voice.

"It's nice to meet you, Rickon," Maliya smiled, lightly shaking his hand. "Do you know who I am?"

Rickon nodded shyly. "You're the Princess that's going to marry my brother." He seemed encouraged by the smile on her face and continued. "Theon says that Robb is lucky because you probably know more about bedroom activities than he does." Rickon looked up at her with confusion. "Was he talking about playing games? Can you teach me – "

"Rickon!" His mother gasped, hurrying over with wide eyes and placing both hands on his shoulders, drawing him back to her. Maliya blinked, feeling stunned by the sudden turn of events and realized her mouth was hanging open slightly. A cough that sounded suspiciously like it was covering up a laugh came from Maliya's right and she looked over to see her future husband struggling to maintain a straight face. "I am so sorry, My Lady – "

"Theon!" Lord Stark thundered, his face cold and intimidating once more as he glared over his shoulder. Maliya rose from where she was crouched on the ground, shutting her mouth and looking over with curiosity to see a young man around her age come forward from behind the Starks with his head down in dismay. Lord Stark shoved him forward another step until he stood in front of Maliya. "Apologize to the Princess for your crass and rude words."

"I'm very sorry for my behavior," Theon muttered humbly. "It won't happen again."

When Lord Stark looked towards his wife, Theon quickly glanced up at Maliya, a small smirk on his lips as he winked at her. Maliya raised her eyebrows at his audacity, but the wink was so quick that she wondered if she had imagined it.

"This is Theon Greyjoy, My Lady, a ward of Winterfell." Lord Stark told her, glancing at the boy in disappointment. "I can assure you that he will be punished for his actions."

"Maybe Theon would like to join Bran and I at our training session," Uncle Oberyn announced, striding over to stand next to Maliya, his brown eyes calculating as he stared down at Theon. There was always something in Uncle Oberyn's eyes that intimidated almost anyone that he wished. It was a tactic that she admired, except when it was directed at her. Theon didn't seem to be immune either. The cocky smirk was definitely gone as Theon withered underneath Oberyn's gaze. "What do you say, Greyjoy? Shall we see if the Kraken can withstand the heat of the Sun?"

Maliya fought not to roll her eyes at her Uncle's antics. She cast her eyes around for a distraction and they landed on another young man who had been standing behind the Starks with Theon. He was handsome, with black curls, grey eyes and a solemn face. He had been quiet all throughout the introductions and had been pointedly ignored.

Maliya quickly put the pieces together. Three of Lord Stark's five children had their father's striking grey eyes, and this boy, who was not included with the other children, had a matching pair. In fact, he looked more like Lord Stark than Robb did. Irritation spread through her, but she quickly covered it with an innocent look on her face. "Lord Stark?" She called, looking up at him with her head tilted to the side. "I thought that I was to meet all of your family."

He frowned slightly in confusion. "Of course, My Lady – " He followed her pointed gaze and his expression cleared, an uncomfortable look crossing his face. "Ah. Yes, this is Jon Snow, my…. Bastard son."

Sand was the bastard name in Dorne, so Snow must be the name for the north.

Her eyes flickered around the other faces of the Stark family, taking in their uneasy expressions and the way they avoided her eyes. Only Lady Stark met her gaze, her blue eyes hard and unflinching. She was reminded of the constant warnings that the North was very different from Dorne and she supposed that this was just the first instance. Well, besides the weather, the clothing, the people and the accents, of course.

She knew that was she was about to do was obviously not considered appropriate in the North. But she was often accused of being impulsive and she wasn't thinking of whom she was possibly offending. She was thinking of her Sand Snake cousins and her anger on their behalf if they were ever treated like this – shoved in the back, forgotten and ignored.

So she purposefully strode around the Stark family and approached Jon Snow, who looked thoroughly alarmed at her actions. Smiling in what she hoped was a reassuring way, she said, "Hello, Jon. It truly is wonderful to meet you."

His wide eyes flashed over her shoulder before looking back at her. "Uh – " He croaked, breaking off and clearing his throat. "Yes, uh, it's nice to meet you too, Princess."

"Maliya, please," she insisted, grin widening at the panic in Jon's eyes and the red tinge to his cheeks. "I would like to introduce you to my Uncle Oberyn, Prince of Dorne."

"Uhh, hi – hello, Prince Oberyn," Jon stammered, looking so bewildered that a small part of Maliya that wasn't still annoyed actually began to regret her rash actions when she saw how uncomfortable this was making him.

It didn't help that her Uncle was acting like… her Uncle.

"Ah, yes," Oberyn mused, nodding contemplatively as he slowly walked forward to shake his hand. "The infamous Jon Snow," he drawled. "I've heard a lot about you, you know."

"You… have?"

Knowing her Uncle could and would make up some ridiculous story that he never actually heard about Jon Snow, Maliya decided to spare the poor guy.

"You know, I'm feeling pretty tired. And filthy," she announced loudly, hoping to put an end to whatever was going on here.

It worked perfectly. Lady Stark was reminded of her hostess duties and jumped in immediately, saying, "Of course, My Lady, it has been a very long journey for you. We'll get someone to show you to your room and draw you a bath – "

"I'll do it!" Sansa volunteered eagerly, flushing red again when everyone turned to look at her.

"Alright," Maliya smiled, after only a brief hesitation. She pretended not to hear Jon Snow's audible sigh of relief and turned to look at her Uncle questioningly.

"You go on," he smiled, waving her forward with an unconcerned flick of his hand. "I am not quite tired yet, I think I'll find something else to occupy my time."

Maliya caught the glint in his eye and the wolfish grin on his lips and fought once more to not roll her eyes. Not even in Winterfell for five minutes and already he was going to hunt for the nearest brothel. Maliya loved her Uncle dearly, but she wasn't blind to his faults and was more than aware of his reputation. They'd said he'd fucked half of Westeros, both men and women.

While it wasn't exactly her ideal life style, Maliya couldn't help but admire him. He knew who he was as a person and was unapologetic about it. Marriage wasn't in her Uncle's future and yet he found someone who shared his life style and interests. Maliya liked his paramour, Ellaria Sand – she was the mother of a few of Oberyn's daughters and a good, strong woman. She was glad that he was happy, in that regard at least.

Hiding her distracted thoughts, she nodded to her Uncle before turning back to Sansa. "Lead the way."

Maliya smiled at the rest of the Stark family, briefly meeting her betrothed's unreadable gaze before following Sansa through the archway and into the castle. Lacing her fingers in front of her, she pretended to be looking around with interest, hiding an amused smile as Sansa glanced at her shyly. As they rounded a corner, they came face to face with a young handmaiden, who curtsied deeply upon seeing them, her eyes glued to the floor.

"Hello Alarina," Sansa greeted kindly. "Please have a bath drawn in Princess Maliya's chambers as quickly as possible." The handmaiden nodded and hurried off. Sansa turned to Maliya. "While she's getting that ready, would you like me to give you a brief tour of Winterfell?"

"I would be very grateful," Maliya answered, though she wanted nothing more than to fall into a bed and sleep for several hours straight. "I suppose it would be embarrassing if I were to get lost in my new home, wouldn't it?"

"No one would blame you," Sansa replied, glancing at her as they began moving forward again. "I suppose it must be very difficult to leave your home to come live with complete strangers."

Maliya's smile turned sad. "Yes. I miss my family very much."

"Could they not come with you?"

"Unfortunately no. The journey here took two months alone. My father couldn't be away from Dorne for that long and my siblings have duties of their own to attend to. I have to remember to write them letters now that we have arrived."

"I can have a quill and some parchment sent to your room," Sansa offered eagerly.

Maliya's smile was genuine this time as she laid a hand on Sansa's arm. "I would be very grateful, Sansa, thank you."

"It's no trouble," Sansa answered, waving a hand though she looked pleased. They paused in the middle of a large doorway looking into a very large room. There was a long table on a raised platform overlooking the rest of the room, which looked big enough to hold hundreds of people. The room was buzzing with people hurrying around, setting up tables and getting things in order. "This is the Great Hall, where we eat all our meals. I apologize for the chaos, we're in the midst of preparing for your welcome feast. Don't worry, your wedding feast will be much larger than this one," Sansa continued conversationally, her eyes alight. "I'm sure as a Princess of Dorne you're used to wonderful, extravagant feasts, but in Winterfell it is a bit more difficult to have such large feasts so close together."

Maliya tilted her head to the side as she looked at her. "So close together? What do you mean?"

"Well, with the wedding being the day after tomorrow – "

Maliya stopped listening, the air escaping her body in one large gust as she froze in both shock and horror. Two days. For some reason she had figured that she would have at least a week before she would have to marry the Stark boy. She had to admit that a small part of her was still in denial of her impending nuptials, even though she was here in the North and had actually met her future husband. But maybe it was better this way. Better to get it over with, instead of dragging it out.

"My Lady?" Sansa asked in concern. Maliya hadn't even noticed that she had stopped speaking. "Are you alright?"

Maliya blinked, forcing herself to loosen her fingers so that her nails would stop digging into the backs of her hands. Forcing a smile onto her face, Maliya said quickly, "Yes, I'm sorry. I was just unaware of how soon the wedding would be."

"Yes, it is happening rather quickly," Sansa agreed with a frown, turning and leading Maliya down the hallway again.

"My Uncle must need to return to Dorne," Maliya told her, staring straight ahead so the other girl could not see the pain in her eyes at the thought. When her Uncle and the rest of his guard leave Winterfell, Maliya would be left in the cold, bitter and unforgiving North, surrounded by wolves. They walked in silence for a few moments. "It's… surprisingly warm in here," Maliya commented, the chill from outside finally leaving her body.

"Yes," Sansa smiled brightly. "Winterfell is located on several hot springs. The water is piped through the chambers and walls to heat them."

I suppose that's one good thing about this place, Maliya thought bitterly. "That's brilliant," she chuckled. "Now I suppose I can get rid of the fear that I will freeze to death in my sleep."

Sansa joined in her laughter. "You don't have to worry about that," she agreed, before sending her a curious look. "What is it like in Dorne?"

Despite the fact that Maliya was just pretending to be the nice, innocent princess and everything she had said so far was either fake or an act, she couldn't help but brighten at the question, her eyes holding a faraway look as she pictured her real home. She talked about the heat and the desert, of the beautiful ocean crashing on the shore and the exotic food and drink. As Sansa showed her the library and the Sept, they began talking about the different styles of dresses between Dorne and Winterfell.

At one point, Sansa stopped in front of an empty doorway and gestured inside. "These are your chambers, at least until you are married." Maliya's stomach twisted unpleasantly once more, trying to ignore Sansa's wide grin. "Do you need anything else?"

"No, thank you," Maliya said quickly, covering her rudeness with a smile. "I appreciate the tour Sansa, but I think a long bath is the only thing I need right now."

"Of course. I'll see you at the feast tonight!" Sansa curtsied before leaving Maliya alone in complete, blissful silence.

She entered the room, shutting the door behind her and leaning against it, closing her eyes with a weary sigh. Feeling the ache in her entire body, Maliya reluctantly moved off the door and looked around her temporary room. It was a decent size room, with a big bed up against the far wall, her large trunk and small chair and table on her right. There was one window on the left wall, but most of the room was still pretty dark. Maliya let a hand run over the soft furs covering the bed before moving to the screen in the corner of the room. A robe hung off of it and a peek behind showed a tub filled with steaming water.

Maliya stripped out of her heavy dress and cloak before tossing it on the bed. She unbuckled the tight sheath holding the dagger Nymeria had given her and unlaced her boots to retrieve the other one. She had been wearing them ever since she had left Dorne and she didn't think she would ever travel without them again. Their weight and presence had become both a comfort and a familiarity. It was a piece of home that no one knew was there. She quickly hid them under the covers of her bed.

Maliya slipped into the scalding water without hesitation, a pleasurable sigh escaping her when she was almost completely submerged. She lay there with her eyes closed, feeling her "Princess persona" slowly fade away as her muscles finally relaxed. Her mind drifted as she leisurely began to wash her hair and body.

She had learned a lot about Sansa Stark from the tour of Winterfell. She was three and ten years old, with completely innocent views of the world. From the introductions outside, she felt being a proper lady was important and she liked to sew and make her own dresses.

Basically, Sansa Stark was the complete opposite of her.

And yet, Maliya surprisingly didn't find her stupid or annoying, though that might change in the future. Maliya couldn't help but feel amused by her eagerness and excitement and there was even a small part of her that was jealous of Sansa. Her heart obviously wasn't as hurt or as broken as Maliya's was, blackened by the revenge that she desired above all else.

Coming here to Winterfell, using the Starks for information was going to be harder than she thought it was. She might be able to put on an act with her future husband and his parents, but she could already tell that it was going to be a lot more difficult with the other children. They had each had such a genuine reaction and personality when they were introduced to her that she found herself giving them real smiles despite herself.

Eventually, the water grew cool and light goose bumps began to appear on her skin. She stood, wringing her hair out and pausing a moment to allow the water to run off her body, before stepping out and drying off. Yawning widely and in a very unlady-like way, Maliya wrapped the robe around herself, shivering slightly as she climbed into the large bed, burying herself under the thick furs. Her eyes were drifting closed before she had even fully laid down, the stress, worry, excitement and exhaustion finally overwhelming her as she fell asleep almost immediately.

Maliya jolted upright, glancing around with bleary eyes at the loud knock that sounded at her door. For a moment she panicked, completely convinced that she had been kidnapped and taken to some place that she did not recognize. As her breathing slowed, however, the memories from only hours ago came back to her.

Another knock sounded at the door and her eyes darted to it, bewildered. Closing the robe tighter around herself, she called out, "Come in!"

The door opened and the same handmaiden who was sent to fill her bath entered the room, curtsying in the doorway with her eyes trained on the ground. "Are you finished with your bath, My Lady?" She asked in a delicate voice.

Maliya studied her for a moment before replying. Everything about her was feminine and delicate. Her small, thin frame, her doe-like green eyes, her light brown hair and her cute button nose. "Yes," Maliya answered after a moment. "I'm finished."

The girl bowed her head as two older women entered the room, curtsying to Maliya before picking up the bath and removing it from the room to be emptied. When they left, the girl turned to Maliya once more. "The feast will be starting shortly, My Lady. Lady Stark sent me to see if you required any help."

"What is your name?" Maliya asked instead, slowly rising off the bed.

"Julina, My Lady."

"Alright, Julina," Maliya agreed, drifting towards the trunk and opened the lid. She stepped to the side and gestured for the other girl to come closer. "This is my first public appearance to the people of Winterfell. Which dress do you think I should wear?"

A small smile appeared on Julina's lips at the slight challenge in her voice. Maliya watched Julina carefully as she pulled out the different dresses and laid them on the bed. Maliya stopped her before she reached the wedding dress, which was lying on top of the sword and poison that was hidden on the bottom of her trunk. Julina took her time looking through the dresses, something that Maliya respected.

"These dresses are different than the ones that we make here," Julina commented.

"Yes, they were made in Dorne," Maliya told her, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I suspect that we use different cloth and materials."

"This material is lighter," Julina continued, fingering the sleeve of one dress. "It won't keep you as warm as our dresses would. If you like, I can have some made for you." The question was casually asked, and she didn't look to see Maliya's nod of approval. Julina had narrowed her eyes, picking up a blue dress and holding it up critically. "This one," she announced.

"Are you sure?" Maliya asked, surprised. "I've seen the style of clothing that the women wear here – don't you think that this dress is a little too low cut? My father had good intentions when he had these dresses made, of course, but they still have a Dornish appearance to them in some ways."

Julina shrugged lightly. "You can wear whatever you like, My Lady." Her gaze fell to the ground as she hesitated slightly. "You don't need to adopt the Northern way of dressing so quickly."

Maliya examined the demure girl for a moment before nodding in approval. "I appreciate it when people speak their minds, Julina, you've convinced me. Will you help me into the dress and style my hair?"

Julina's eyes widened in surprise, her mouth dropping open slightly. "My Lady, you're very kind, but you don't need to ask! I'm here to serve you in any way that you wish!"

Maliya's smile turned sad. "My father had a lot of sayings when I was growing up. One of his favorite was, 'Being polite is not only the right way to respond to people but the easiest. Life is so filled with unavoidable conflict that I see no reason to promote more confrontations.'"

"He sounds like a wise man," Julina commented as Maliya picked up her shift and stepped behind the screen to shrug out of her robe.

"The wisest," Maliya murmured, walking back into the room so Julina could help her into the dress and lace it up. They lapsed into silence, Maliya's heart aching as memories of her father played into her mind. She had never felt more like a little girl in that moment – a little girl that missed her father and her home, and a part of her hated that weakness.

"How long have you been with the Starks?" Maliya asked to distract herself as Julina led her to the chair and began to brush through her hair.

"Nine years, My Lady," Julina answered as her fingers flew through Maliya's hair. "My family has served the Starks for many generations." She seemed to sense Maliya's unspoken question because she continued in a casual voice. "The Starks are the greatest ruling family in the North. They're respectable, honorable people with many who are loyal to them."

Maliya frowned, digesting this information and trying to relate it to what she had always known growing up. Without the Starks, the Usurper wouldn't have stolen her family's throne and her family would still be alive. And for that betrayal, Maliya didn't think she could ever believe the words that Julina spoke.

"There," Julina said, stepping back and moving to pick up the looking glass on the table. "Do – Do you like it?" She inquired somewhat nervously, her eyes worried.

Maliya took the looking glass from her and raised it up, tilting her head from side to side to see what Julina had done. It was a simple hairstyle with the bottom half of her hair tumbling down her back. The top half was pulled back into two intricate braids, where they met in the back of her head to form one braid.

She stood, tilting the mirror down to get the full affect. The blue dress was long sleeved, as all her dresses would be from now on. It was simple enough, the only embroidery along the neckline, which plunged below her breasts. She could only imagine the crude comments that Tyene would make had she seen the dress; probably something about stealing her future husband's attention with her two best assets.

A small smile was on Maliya's lips as she put the looking glass down. "You did wonderfully, Julina, thank you."

A light blush stole across Julina's cheeks. "Thank you, My Lady. If you don't need anything else?" Maliya shook her head and Julina curtseyed, smiling at her before leaving the room.

As soon as she was gone, Maliya walked over to her bed and pulled back the covers, revealing her daggers. Lifting her heavy skirts, she buckled her dagger back onto her thigh and slipped the smaller dagger back into her boot, immediately feeling better once she had done so.

Another knock came at her door, making Maliya jump with a gasp, dropping her skirts and whirling around. She frowned, pressing a hand against her rapidly beating heart as she walked to the door. Thinking that maybe it was Julina again, she opened it saying, "Have you forgotten – "

She froze when she saw who was on the other side of the door. Robb Stark stood there, staring down at her with his icy blue eyes and as Maliya tried to recover from her shock, she belatedly realized that Julina had chosen a dress that directly matched the color of his eyes.

"Were you expecting someone else?" He asked in a stiff, confused voice.

Maliya gave her head a slight shake to clear it. "No, I thought it was – never mind. Can I help you with something?"

"The feast will be starting shortly," He began.

"Yes," Maliya interrupted with a polite smile, feeling her mask slipping back into place. "Julina was just helping me get ready," she told him, running her hands over the dress material on her stomach. She frowned after a moment, and it took her another second to figure out what was unsettling her. She had been waiting for Robb's gaze to dip down into the neckline of her dress and felt strangely unnerved when his cold blue eyes remained staring blankly at her. Tilting her head to the side, she felt confusion rush through her. Boys and men had always been unrestrained when they allowed their eyes to roam a woman's body, but Maliya guessed that she never fully understood how accustomed she had become to it.

"Are you alright?" Robb asked, still watching her.

"Just a little anxious for the feast, I guess," she lied quickly, laughing slightly even though she still felt off balance.

"There is nothing to be anxious about," he assured her grudgingly. He paused for a moment. "May I escort you, Princess?" Maliya glanced at his offered arm and then back up at his stony expression and wanted nothing more than to slam the door in his face and crawl back into bed.

Her shoulders wanted to droop with the weight of her "Princess" responsibilities, the years of training that had been drilled into her making her hold her tongue. "I would be honored, My Lord," she finally answered, reluctantly taking his arm and closing her chamber door behind her.

They slowly began to walk down the corridor, Maliya's hand resting on his arm as lightly as possible as she felt the awkwardness of their silence wash over her. She had just been debating what to say when he spoke. "I feel that I should apologize for earlier," he said, making her look up at him in confusion. "Rickon is only five years old and it appears that he's at that age where he repeats everything he hears."

"Oh," Maliya exclaimed, shaking her head. "I do not blame him. I have a younger brother as well so I know what it's like."

He heard the words she did not say. "Theon Greyjoy, he's …" He paused for a moment, thinking quickly. "He has a crude sense of humor and often speaks without thinking." An apologetic smile touched his lips. "It may be the first time he insulted you, but it certainly won't be the last."

Maliya looked away from him, hiding her smirk. "I can assure you, My Lord, I have heard far worse."

This time it was he who looked down at her, one eyebrow raised. "Was it not you who wished to use less formal names?"

"Yes," she murmured softly, chuckling. "I suppose it was. It may have been a rash decision on my part. I don't know you and all of this just seems so… "

He noticed her struggling for an appropriate word and added one of his own. "Unreal?"

At the same time she said, "Unfair."

Both of them had uttered the words under their breath as if they weren't sure they wanted the other to hear. Without either of them realizing it, they had both stopped walking, taking a moment to study each other in surprise. "You… you don't want this marriage either?" Robb asked, looking shocked.

Maliya looked at him incredulously, wondering if she was being saddled with a complete idiot. "I had to leave my family and friends, my warm, beautiful home to travel for months to marry someone I had never even met." She paused, nonplussed, head tilted to the side. "Why don't you want this marriage?"

He blinked before narrowing his cold blue eyes at her. "Why do you say it like that?"

"Like what?"

"Like the thought that I wouldn't want this marriage is absurd." His voice grew as hard as his gaze, making her frown up at him.

"Well…." she shrugged unconcernedly, looking as if she agreed with his statement.

He stepped away from her, crossing his arms, his body radiating his annoyance and anger. "Why don't you explain it to me?"

Maliya couldn't understand his sudden change of behavior. "My family is providing yours with resources as well as an alliance in the south. You're going to be marrying a Princess whom most men find to be attractive. It may sound conceited but – "

"You're right," he interrupted, shaking his head in disgust. "You do sound conceited. Believe it or not, but I don't want this marriage, even more so now than I did before. I had hoped to marry for love, or at least choose whom I was to marry. Because believe me when I say that I would never have chosen someone like you." Rage and disbelief made Maliya narrow her eyes and clench her jaw as she felt the sting of his insult. He pulled something out of his cloak pocket and shoved it into her hands. "Here. Your engagement present." She looked down at the small box in her hands then back at him as they glared at each other. "If you'll excuse me," he muttered stiffly.

Maliya watched him stride away, her glare slowly fading and confusion taking over. What in the seven hells had just happened? How had that escalated so quickly? Besides her family, there wasn't a person in Dorne that would have dared to speak to her like that. Half of her was impressed that he had the guts to speak to her like that knowing who she was, and the other half was pissed that he did. He was extremely disrespectful, and combined with the knowledge of what his family had done to hers, it made her dislike him even more.

She glared down at the box she still had clenched in her hand and had to fight the urge to chuck it out of the nearest window. Curiosity got the best of her, however. Huffing an annoyed sigh at herself, she opened the box and froze, staring down at it with wide eyes. It was a necklace with a silver sun on the end of it, an exact replica of the sun from the Martell banners. Why would he choose to give this to her as an engagement present?

Maliya shook her head, feeling more perplexed than ever. She usually prided herself on her ability to understand people, but she just couldn't seem to get a read on her future husband. Too exhausted to think about it any further, Maliya turned around to walk the short distance back to leave the box in her chambers before heading down to the feast.

Unfortunately she didn't pay as much attention as she should have when Sansa was giving her the tour around the large castle and she quickly became lost. Apparently she was late for the feast. The castle was deserted and there was no one around to help point her in the right direction. Muttering darkly under her breath, she decided to head down to the first floor and just wander until she either found someone to help or found the Great Hall.

She had been walking the corridors aimlessly when she heard voices coming from up ahead.

A woman spoke, her voice frigid with dislike. " – better if you do not make an appearance at the feast tonight."

"Yes, My Lady," a quiet male voice answered.

"We don't want to offend our royal guests, do you understand?"

"Yes, My Lady."

Maliya unconsciously slowed her approach, straining to listen and decipher the voices, but she hadn't been in Winterfell long enough to tell one voice from another.

"It also might be better if you don't attend the wedding feast – "

"What?" The male interrupted, sounding shocked and upset. "But it's Robb's wedding – "

"Is everything alright?" Maliya asked in a pleasant voice, stepping around the corner and watching as both Lady Stark and Jon Snow whirled to face her. They both carefully arranged the expressions on their faces, Lady Stark forcing a smile. Maliya could still feel the tension in the air, could practically feel it clinging to her until it felt as if she was swimming through it. Her eyes flickered from the embarrassed, downcast expression on Jon's face, his eyes trained on the ground to the tightness in Lady Stark's mouth and shoulders.

"Everything is just fine, My Lady," Lady Stark hurried to assure her, to pretend that nothing was wrong. "Where's Robb?" She asked, changing the subject. " I told him – Isn't he escorting you to the feast?"

Maliya stifled a sigh. So that was why he had shown up at her chambers. Because his mother had ordered him to escort her to the feast. The idea hadn't been his after all. "I think he's already inside."

Her eyes looked to Jon again and her heart went out to him, the injustice of Lady Stark's words making her unable to stay quiet and pretend she hadn't heard any of what was said. "I couldn't help but overhear your conversation," Maliya told them, keeping her tone pleasant and adding an apologetic smile. She saw Lady Stark's smile slip and Jon's wince of discomfort. "It isn't necessary for Jon to miss the feast tonight."

"I'm sorry you had to hear that, My Lady," Lady Stark said stiffly. "But it really isn't appropriate – "

"This feast is in my honor, is it not?" Maliya interrupted in a loud voice, causing Lady Stark to blink in surprise at the change of subject. A hot bolt of anger swooped through her chest, heating up her body and making her act impulsively once more.

"Yes, of course – "

Maliya turned to look up at Jon, his solemn grey eyes meeting hers in confusion. "Then I will see you at the feast, Jon Snow."

His eyes widened and flickered to Lady Stark, whose face had gone carefully blank and unreadable. "I don't want to cause any trouble," he murmured in a low voice, shaking his head.

"You're not," she reassured him with a smile. "I intend to become acquainted with my betrothed's family and I would be insulted if his entire family didn't attend the feast tonight."

To Maliya's surprise, he didn't look happy or relieved by her offer; instead he looked agitated and upset. "Of course, My Lady." He inclined his head slightly. "If you'll excuse me, I should go change."

Maliya turned to watch him go before speaking once more to a still silent Lady Stark without looking over at her. "Have you ever been to Dorne, Lady Stark?" She asked casually, clasping her hands in front of her.

"I can't say I've had the pleasure."

Maliya nearly smiled at the hardness to the older woman's voice. "In Dorne, we don't treat bastards as if they are nothing more than the dirt on the bottom of our boots. We don't discriminate against them or treat them any differently. But most importantly, we don't punish the innocent children for the sins of their parents."

Maliya glanced over at Lady Stark as the woman turned to face her, her icy blue eyes so similar to her son's, especially when they were staring at her with such contempt and dislike. "Have you ever been married, My Lady?" She countered with a question of her own.

Maliya's eyebrows furrowed in confusion. What was this woman playing at? She knew the answer to her own question. "No…"

"Until you have to deal with your husband bringing home another woman's child, someone who reminds you of his betrayal every time you look at him, don't speak as if you understand our situation." Her words were brisk and delivered as if Maliya were beneath her. Lady Stark began to walk away, but paused at the corner and looked back over her shoulder. "A word of advice, My Lady? You aren't in Dorne any longer. You're in the North. Things are done differently here – you'd do well to remember that."

"Obviously," Maliya whispered to herself as Lady Stark left her standing in the corridor, a wave of homesickness washing over her so swiftly and fiercely that it made her lose her breath.

"There you are!" Maliya looked up to see Uncle Oberyn approaching her with a grin on his face, though it faltered as he grew closer. "I've been looking everywhere for you. Where have you been? Are you alright?"

"Yes," Maliya sighed, wrapping an arm around his waist as he slung his around her shoulders and began leading her to the Great Hall. "I don't think I've made the best impression on some members of my future family," she admitted.

She blinked as her Uncle burst out laughing, a begrudging smile crossing her face as the familiar sound washed over her. "Did I not tell you your sharp tongue would get you into trouble?" He teased as his laughter died down. "It didn't even take eight hours, that must be a new record for you, Maliya. Tell me what happened."

And so she did.

Author's Note: I had a hard time writing Robb/Maliya's interaction, so I hope it came out okay! Be sure to let me know what you guys thought!

Next chapter – More interactions with Maliya and the Stark family, an Oberyn/Robb scene that I'm SO excited for, and… the wedding and the wedding night! It's going to be a packed chapter – is there anything else you guys would like to see?

Guest 1 – Thanks for your review! There's a Robb/Maliya interaction in this chapter, I hope you enjoy it!

Guest 2 – Thanks for reviewing! I agree, it would be ideal if they had more time to get to know one another, but unfortunately that isn't the case in this story. Thanks for the compliments, hope you liked this chapter!

Guest 3 – I'm glad you like my story already! Thanks for taking the time to write a review!

Cait – Thanks! I'm glad you enjoyed the chapter! Hope you like this update just as much!