Author's Note: Hello everyone! This chapter kind of got away from me, but I hope it makes up for my absence. I feel like I've been working on this for so long now that I'm posting it right after it's finished, I apologize for any mistakes.

Please give it a read and review!

Chapter 4: Beginnings

Maliya slept in a little bit later than she usually did the next morning. Although she knew it was fruitless, she buried her head under her pillow and attempted to pretend that she wasn't going to marry a man that seemed to hold nothing but contempt for her. Nobody came in to bother her and Maliya suspected that her Uncle might have had something to do with that. He always seemed to know when something was wrong and must have seen her fraying nerves last night at the feast.

He was amused when she told him what had occurred yesterday. Within the first few hours of arriving at Winterfell, she had managed to anger both her betrothed and her future godmother, a fact which Uncle Oberyn had laughed loudly at, attracting the attention of almost everyone in the Great Hall.

"I told you," he had chortled, his laugh dying down though his eyes still glittered. "I told you that your sharp tongue would get you into trouble."

Unfortunately he had been right. Although Maliya prided herself on her 'Princess Persona,' there were times where her impulsive behavior got the best of her and she ended up getting into trouble. This was just one example of many. Any normal uncle would have told her keep her nose out of the Stark's family business, but Oberyn knew what her goal was. The sole purpose of this marriage was to discreetly put her nose directly into Stark business so that she could begin to get vengeance for her family. Oberyn's advice had been to "play nice." To get on the family's good side and gain their trust so that they would freely give her information.

Heaving a sigh, Maliya reluctantly pulled her head out from under her pillow and slid out of bed to begin to get ready for her day. It was time to put the first stage of her plan into place.

She dressed in a simple dark green dress that she could lace up herself, braided her hair and slipped on a cloak that had been brought up for her. Making sure she had both of her knives on her body, she put a pleasantly serene look on her face, and left her room, making sure to close her door behind her.

She wandered through the hallways of Winterfell, smiling at people who passed her by but not pausing to get drawn into a conversation. The Great Hall was on her route so she stopped by to pick up some hot bread and blueberry preserves which she ate on the way.

At the feast last night, Arya complained to anyone who would listen that she didn't want to go to her sewing lessons the next morning. So Maliya was taking her Uncle's advice and working through the Stark family one at a time to gain their trust.

This particular plan came to her late last night when she was getting ready for bed after the feast. Once she thought of the plan she immediately felt better. As long as she had a goal in mind, as long as she took this one day at a time, she might be able to get through this. She asked a passing maid where Arya and Sansa took their lessons and headed in that direction.

As she came upon the room, she heard an older woman's voice through the open doorway. "Oh Arya, for goodness sake, there is more blood in your fabric than stitches."

"Oh don't worry about me, I'm fine," Maliya heard Arya mutter angrily, though it sounded garbled, like she had just stuck her injured finger in her mouth.

Lips twitching humorously, Maliya gently knocked on the door and entered the room, lacing her fingers in front of her. Her eyes swept the room, taking in the scene in front of her. Sansa was sitting very primly, her stitches neat and perfect, a small smile on her face. Arya, on the other hand, was hunched over a white cloth dotted with red, a glowering expression on her face while her Septa stood over her looking exasperated.

"Oh!" Maliya exclaimed, holding a hand to her chest and feigning an expression of surprise. "I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt. I must have taken a wrong turn – I still haven't learned my way around this place yet."

"Princess Maliya!" Sansa gasped, jumping to her feet hastily. "You should have sent someone to fetch me, I would be glad to – "

"Oh no, I would have been loathe to interrupt your work!" Maliya stepped further into the room, coming over by Sansa's side. "Are you making a dress?" She asked, tilting to her head. Her eyes widened as Sansa held it out for her. "Wow that's…that's beautiful, Sansa! You're really very talented!"

Sansa flushed a bright red, an embarrassed yet pleased smile crossing her face.

"Yes, Sansa is a quick learner and she is really flourishing, My Lady," their Septa commented with a proud smile. "I wish all of my students put as much effort into their work as Sansa did," she added with a pointed look at Arya.

"I don't want to learn how to sew or curtsey or speak properly!" Arya retorted, making a face.

"Like it or not Arya, you were born a female in the Stark family and are in fact a lady!"

"But I don't want to be a lady!" Arya snapped, crossing her arms.

Maliya examined the older woman, taking in her appearance. She had a bony face, sharp, beady eyes and a thin, lipless mouth. "I see," Maliya murmured, glancing back at Arya and back again. "I was actually hoping to borrow Arya now that I'm here. I need someone to assist me in choosing new materials for dresses up in the north and bringing them to the seamstress. I don't want to interrupt Sansa's lessons, but it looks like Arya's fingers need a break for the day. I do hope you don't mind."

The Septa was silent for a moment observing Maliya's polite smile. Maliya knew that she couldn't outright refuse her and she waited until the Septa came to the same conclusion. "Alright, My Lady," she grudgingly agreed, nodding. "Arya, you're free to go."

"Great!" Maliya smiled widely before turning to leave the room, Arya trailing behind her glumly. As they walked, Maliya could practically feel Arya's bad mood and disgust rolling over her in waves. She couldn't help but smile. "You really don't want to have anything to do with sewing or dresses, do you?" She asked lightly, glancing over in time to see the other girl's eyes narrow.

"No," Arya answered shortly. "They can try all they want, but I will not become a lady."

"I can understand what you're going through," Maliya told her. "I didn't like the dresses or the feasts when I was younger either. I would much rather have learned to fight and ride horses."

Arya sent her a disbelieving look, looking her up and down. "No offense, but aren't you're a princess? Isn't your life all about grand balls, pretty gowns and handsome princes?"

Maliya barely bit back the hysterical laugh that threatened to escape her. She was constantly amazed and envious of the simple, innocent views of a child. "It took me a long, couple of years to come to terms with who I was. There's the princess half of me who learned to love to occasionally dress up. While balls and handsome princes are often incredibly dull, it's part of the job. Then there's the other half of me who still loves the adventure, loves to wear a pair of riding trousers and take off on my horse for a day." Maliya stopped talking, looking away and pressing her lips together. She hadn't meant to reveal that much about herself, but she saw part of herself in Arya.

Arya was gaping at her incredulously. "They let you wear trousers?"

Maliya grinned. "Life in Dorne functions quite differently than it does here. It's not as… structured."

"I wish I lived in Dorne," Arya sighed wistfully, looking away. She frowned, taking in her surroundings as Maliya led them outside. "This isn't the way to the seamstress," she said slowly.

"You're very astute," Maliya teased. As they walked across the grounds, Maliya sighed as she saw the dirt and mud beginning to accumulate on the bottom of her dress. Was there no grass up here in the north? Hoping to distract herself, she looked at Arya. "Do you still have no idea where we're going?" At Arya's clueless look, she continued. "My Uncle Oberyn is training your brother Bran this morning. I thought you might like to watch."

Arya's eyes lit up, a delighted grin crossing her face. She began to run ahead of Maliya but paused, looking back, her eyes wide with excitement. "Thank you!" She cried before running off again.

Maliya chuckled at her enthusiasm, following behind her at a slower pace. When she stepped into the training yard she saw a bunch of people waiting there already. Arya ran up and joined Robb, Jon and Theon, who were each holding a bow and coaching Bran who was currently aiming at a target.

As Maliya walked up to the group unnoticed, Bran released the arrow, which went wide, missing the target completely. The older boys chortled at the disappointed look on Bran's face. Theon, with a condescending grin on his face, clapped Bran on the back, gently pushing him out of the way. "Step out of the way, Bran, let me show you how it's done."

Maliya watched with a critical eye as Theon took his stance, fit his arrow into his bow and pulled back the string. "Should you hold the bow so tight?" Maliya commented, causing the others to notice her presence for the first time with surprise. "You look like you're trying to strangle it."

Robb's face darkened at the sight of her and Jon looked uncomfortable. Only Bran smiled at her. Theon, on the other hand, rolled his eyes. "No offense, My Lady, but why don't you leave things like this to the men who actually know what they're talking about."

"What men?" Arya scoffed, eyes narrowing at the insult to women. "In order to be a man, you need to grow up, Theon. Bran's more of a man than you are."

"Alright," Jon chuckled, placing his hands on Arya's shoulders and pulling her back a few steps. "That's enough. Just get on with it, Greyjoy. Show us all how it's done."

He glared at the obvious note of sarcasm in Jon's voice but resumed his stance, pulling back the bowstring and letting the arrow fly. Maliya couldn't help the snort that escaped her as the arrow hit the corner of the board, missing the circular target altogether.

Theon's head snapped around to throw her a dark look. "You think you can do better?" He snarled, holding out the bow and arrow to her and giving her a mocking bow. "Then by all means, your highness."

"Me?" Maliya asked in a shocked voice, brown eyes widening. "But I'm just a princess! What do I know about shooting arrows?"

"Oh come on Maliya, you can do it!" Arya encouraged, shrugging Jon off and grabbing Maliya's hand to pull her forward. Maliya smiled at the fierce expression on her face as she snatched the bow and arrow from Theon's hand and handed it to her before lining Maliya up in front of the target. ""Okay, now are you right or left handed?"

"Right," Maliya answered, struggling to hide how amused she was feeling. It took a lot for her to maintain her cluelessness, to look completely bewildered as Arya tried to coach her. "Like this?" She asked naively, knowing that her grip was wrong.

"Hey Stark, your bride needs help," Theon taunted with a smug, mocking grin, crossing his arms in challenge. "Maybe you should show her how it's done."

This had certainly not been part of her plan.

Maliya froze, her wide eyes flickering over her shoulder to see Robb glaring angrily at his friend before realizing that Maliya was watching him and schooling his expression. "Of course," he finally answered, pausing a moment too long and letting Maliya know that he wanted no part in this. Nevertheless, he strode forward around Arya and stepped up just behind Maliya. "Show me your stance," he murmured in a low voice. Maliya did as he said, wondering if she was imagining the heat that she could feel radiating off him. "You have to shift your hips a little bit," he continued. Maliya's muscles twitched as he placed his hands lightly on her waist and adjusted her. "Lower this arm a little bit, letting your left hand rest just at the edge of your mouth."

Maliya swallowed at his nearness, the scent of him, a musky woodsy smell, drifted over her. She felt one of his hands remain at his waist while the other drifted along her right arm. Flickering her eyes to her left, she caught and was held within the gaze of his icy blue eyes, which seemed to stare right through her.

"Well?" Arya asked impatiently, jolting her back to the present and making Robb take a step back. "What are you waiting for?"

She could hear Theon chuckle knowingly behind her and she mentally shook herself, putting whatever just happened out of her mind. She took a moment to get a feel for the bow, which wasn't nearly as beautifully made as the one that she had back home. Taking a deep, calming breath, Maliya adjusted her stance slightly, pulled back the string with her right arm and relaxed her bow arm. She lined up the target with her dominant eye, slowly took a deep breath in and released on the exhale. The arrow twanged from her bow, shooting forward almost faster than the eye could see and burying deep in the center of the target.

Maliya relished the long moment of stunned silence from behind her. Smiling politely and turning her gaze in Theon's direction, she asked, "Did I do that correctly?"

"Whoa," Bran murmured, gazing at her with wide eyes.

Meanwhile, a wide smile was beginning to cross Arya's face as she looked at Maliya in a whole new light. Jon looked impressed but Maliya couldn't seem to read the look on Robb's face. "Lucky shot," Theon muttered dismissively, scoffing. "There's no way you can do that again!"

Jon took in the affronted look on Maliya's face and commented with a grin, "I think I feel a bet coming on."

Theon's eyes narrowed. "Alright. I bet you that you can't hit the target."

"And if you win?" Maliya asked, lifting an eyebrow.

Theon's eyes flickered to Robb standing behind her and a smirk crossed his face. "If I win, then you owe me a favor. To be collected at a time of my choosing."

Maliya felt someone make a noise behind her, but she was already nodding. "Deal. And if I win…. " Her eyes lit up as she crossed her arms, a wide grin on her lips. "If I win, you must strip down to your undergarments and sing "The Bear and the Maiden Fair" in the middle of the Great Hall."

Her grin only widened as she heard Bran and Arya giggling. "It seems that your future wife wants to see me what I'm working with, Stark," Theon laughed, his eyes glittering in delight. It took all her power to resist wrinkling her nose in disgust. She had seen better-looking men wandering the streets in Dorne. "Alright, My Lady, you have a deal. Shall we shake on it?"

Maliya eyed his outstretched hand warily. "I would rather not, I don't know where that hand has been. We have enough witnesses to prove the outcome of the bet. Are you prepared to lose, Greyjoy?"

"Are you joking?" Theon snorted, cross his own arms. "I'm already trying to think of the best favor that I can call in."

"Come on, My Lady, you can do it!" Bran cried out in encouragement, excitement in his voice.

Maliya surreptitiously winked at him and Arya as she turned to take her stance once more. Her movements were practiced and sure as she pulled back the bowstring, took a deep breath, and released. Just as she had known it would, the arrow buried itself deep within the center of the target. Arya and Bran cheered as Jon roared with laughter at the look of disbelief on Theon's face. Flush with victory, Maliya looked around, giving a small curtsey to Theon as he stared at her in outrage, mouthing wordlessly.

Lips lifting in her own smirk, Maliya looked away and caught Robb's eye. The smile that had been playing around the edge of his lips faded as his icy blue, calculating gaze met hers. Once more, Maliya couldn't look away. His eyes were knowing, as if he could see right through her and didn't like what he saw there.

"You tricked me!" Theon spluttered, pointing an accusing finger. "You knew how to shoot an arrow all along!"

"That's an important first lesson, boys and girls," a male voice called. Everyone turned to see Oberyn strolling towards them, hands behind his back and a mischievous smile on his face. "Never underestimate a woman like Maliya Martell."

Maliya grinned at him, leaning the bow against the barrel of arrows and striding off to place a kiss on his cheek. "Morning, Uncle. You're late."

"You say that like you're surprised," Oberyn chuckled, kissing her back. He stepped to the training circle, casually drawing his sword and gesturing to the group. "I have to say I am surprised, however. I only expected Lord Bran, this crowd does seem quite large."

"I hope you will forgive us, Prince Oberyn," Robb apologized, speaking up for the first time since she had arrived on the scene. "Rumors of your legendary prowess in battle has reached us all the way from Dorne. We are just eager to see you in action."

"Very well," Oberyn said, inclining his head. "Who's first, then?" He paused, glancing at Bran. "Is it alright, Lord Bran, if we have a quick sparring session before your training?"

Bran puffed out his chest importantly and nodded, though Maliya could see the childish excitement in his eyes. It was such a Trystane expression that Maliya's smile faded slightly, her heart twisting painfully. She wondered what he was doing at this moment. Was he in his lessons? Riding his horse? Swiping a pie from the kitchens?

Maliya was startled out of her thoughts by a hand grabbing her own. She looked down to see Bran tugging her urgently. "Come on, My Lady, we don't want to be standing in the way!"

Maliya smiled down at him, following him outside of the training circle. Theon, of course, had volunteered to face her uncle first. His expression was serious, whereas Oberyn simply looked amused. The fight was over in a matter of seconds. Theon had charged her uncle with a savage yell, brandishing the sword above his head. Oberyn sidestepped him easily and disarmed him in two moves, knocking him flat on his back, much to Maliya's glee.

"Rule number two!" Oberyn called, twirling his sword effortlessly as Theon winced, struggling to get up. "Never let your opponent know you are coming! It gives them time to prepare for and defend your attacks. Who's next?"

Robb volunteered next. As he was retrieving his sword, Maliya used the opportunity to look over and see two twin looks of astonishment and awe on both Bran and Arya's faces. She felt a strong amount of pride in her badass uncle, proud of the fact that he was family and she had been taught by one of the most formidable fighters in all of Westeros.

She turned her attention to the two men circling each other, observing Robb with a critical eye. She had fought against her uncle numerable times and knew his fighting style well. In her opinion, a man's fighting style told her a lot about who he was as a person. For example, Greyjoy was loud, arrogant and impulsive. Robb seemed to have more caution, at least. He still made the first move, but it was a controlled slash at Oberyn's hip, not a flailing maneuver like Greyjoy executed.

While it was apparent that Robb was skilled with a blade, it was obvious to Maliya that he was nowhere near the same skill level as her Uncle. Oberyn was easily blocking his blade, a fact that made Robb's eyes narrow in frustration. The fight lasted longer than Greyjoys, but in the end Oberyn was able to disarm Robb fairly easily. Jon was next, and Maliya was surprised to see how skilled he was. Whereas Robb had more strength in his hits, Jon seemed to be able to execute more complicated maneuvers and seemed to have more natural instinct about his opponent.

After Oberyn disarmed Jon, there was a lot of excited chatter and laughter amongst the Starks as each of them surged forward to talk to him. Their eyes were alight and their faces were flush as they asked Oberyn to demonstrate and teach them certain moves that he had made.

Shaking her head slightly at all the attention her Uncle was receiving and the obvious pleasure he was getting out of it, Maliya used this opportunity to slip away and explore Winterfell a bit more. She wanted to learn every nook and cranny about this place and she started by learning a more about the grounds. She identified the bell and library tower and found the stables, where she spent a bit of time brushing Shadow.

Feeling a bit bored and restless, Maliya headed back towards the castle, where she came across an old, squat fortress that looked even older than the rest of Winterfell. The area was pretty deserted, so whatever the building used to be, it wasn't anymore. An old, ironwood door caught her eye, one that sent a shiver down her spine just by looking at it.

After glancing around and debating with herself for half a minute, her curiosity got the better of her. She headed towards the door, struggling with it a moment because it was so heavy, but eventually managed to pull it open. A cold, damp breeze washed over her, making the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. Maliya reached up and grabbed the torch from the wall before cautiously descending down the stone, spiral staircase. Her boots echoed ominously against the steps as her ears unconsciously strained for any other type of noise.

The staircase kept going further down underneath Winterfell, but Maliya stepped off at the first landing and raising the torch high above her head, finally understanding where she was. The crypts of Winterfell. On either side of the long, narrow pathway, larger than life statues of the Lords of Winterfell seemed to stare out at her. As she proceeded forward slowly, she noticed that they each had a longsword on their lap and a large wolf curled at their feet.

She read some of the names as she passed by; Benjen, Ellard, Brandon, Rickard, all Starks that seemed to judge her as she walked. The light from the torch bounced creepily off the wall, and on more than one occasion she thought she saw movement out of the corner of her eye, but convinced herself that it was a trick of the light. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and she was just about to turn around and head back when she came across a statue that was different from all the rest.

A fresh, pale blue winter rose rested in the hand of the outstretched statue. A heavy, cold feeling rested in the middle of Maliya's chest as she took a shuddering breath and looked up into the face of Lyanna Stark.

Hatred seeped through her as she stared at the statue. This was the woman who was the cause of Robert's Rebellion, the woman who was responsible for the deaths of thousands of people. While she obviously had never met the woman, she had heard the stories.

Lyanna Stark was known as the wild she-wolf of the north, known to be beautiful, intelligent and adventurous. To Maliya, however, she was the woman who had ruined everything. If not for Lyanna Stark, her father would never have named her the "Queen of Love and Beauty" at that tournament in Harrenhal, blatantly disrespecting her mother. If not for Lyanna Stark, her father would never have abandoned a wife and two children. She didn't know which story was true, if her father had abducted the girl or if they had run away together and she supposed she would never really know. What she did know is that she was still dealing with the consequences of their actions, actions that had ruined her entire life. While part of her wished she could ask her father these questions, to try and understand what he had been thinking, the other half of her would probably get so enraged that she would kill him all over again.

It was a cruel twist of fate that she now had to marry into the family of the woman who caused so many problems and so many deaths.

"Can I help you, My Lady?" Startled, Maliya whirled around to see Jon Snow standing a few feet away with a torch of his own. His face guarded and his voice suspicious.

She looked away from him, back at the statues though she wasn't really seeing anything. "Did you follow me here, Jon?" She asked in a casual, disinterested voice.

"I saw you heading down here," he said in answer. "I wanted to talk with you about what happened yesterday, with Lady Stark."

"You're upset with me," she guessed, turning to face him completely.

"I – " He paused, blinking in surprise. "Of course not, My Lady. I just wanted to let you know, for the future, that I won't need require your assistance. Lady Stark has her reasons for saying what she did and while I do appreciate what you were trying to do – "

"I didn't intervene on your behalf," Maliya interrupted, lacing her fingers in front of her. "After all, I hardly know you."

"Then… then why did you?" Jon asked, looking confused.

"Basic human decency," Maliya shrugged, tilting her head to the side as she observed him closely. She watched him look away, his expression shuttering. She continued in a soft voice. "I don't believe that any person should be treated or spoken to that way, let alone a child – "

"I am no child," Jon snapped, grey eyes flashing.

Maliya paused for a moment. "My apologies," she told him, inclining her head slightly. She bit back a smile – that was exactly the sort of reaction that she would have had. "But I do believe you understand the point I am trying to make." She bit her lip, debating how much to tell him. "Back in Dorne, the people are more tolerant of bastards than they are in the north. But even still there were some who looked down on my cousins just for being born. They treated them differently as if they didn't matter or weren't worth their time." Maliya's voice grew hard, just the thought of it making her angry all over again. "The Sand Snakes can handle themselves, of course, but I invited them to every large event so the people could see just what I thought about their discriminatory behavior."

There was a strange look on Jon's face as he considered her. "You're not like most princesses, are you?"

Maliya grinned, raising an eyebrow. "Do you know many princesses, Jon Snow?" She teased.

He flushed, shaking his head with a sheepish grin. "None, actually, besides you." He looked around. "What are you doing down here anyway?" Maliya couldn't have explained it, but he seemed more relaxed around her for some reason.

Maliya sighed. "Curiosity. I was doing a bit of exploring and I couldn't resist." She turned back towards the statue of Lyanna and felt him come up to stand next to her. "Where did the rose come from?"

"My father comes down here as often as he can to pay his respects," Jon answered in a quiet voice. "My aunt used to love winter roses." A cold breeze seemed to snake through the crypt, causing Maliya to shiver noticeably. Jon offered her his arm. "We should head back up, My Lady. You could catch a chill if you stay down here for too long."

Maliya accepted his arm, teasing him once more. "As the only princess you know, Jon, I think Maliya will do just fine."

As they approached the winding staircase once more, she glanced down into the dark and paused, frowning, with one foot on the stairs. A strange fog seemed to fill her head, her gaze un-focusing as an inexplicable urge to descend the stairs filled her body.

"Maliya?" Jon's voice seemed to come from far away, so slow and garbled that she had a hard time understanding what he was saying. "Princess? Are you alright?"

Maliya blinked and looked away, up at Jon and the fog seemed to lift. He was staring down at her in concern, brows furrowed. She shook her head, shoving away whatever the seven hells had just happened to her and saving it for further examination, feeling uncomfortable with how closely Jon was watching her.

"Sorry!" She laughed easily, continuing up the staircase and pretending like nothing happened. "What were you saying?"

He glanced at her again, still looking concerned and hesitant, but thankfully he didn't pursue it. "I was asking if you were ready for the wedding tomorrow."

Maliya snorted before she could stop herself. "I'm about to be legally bound to a man that I haven't even known for a full day." Jon was silent as they climbed out of the crypt, blinking against the bright light of the sun. "Sorry," she continued, thinking he had been offended. "I know he's your brother, that was inappropriate."

Jon chuckled, waving her off. "Yes he is my brother and of course he can be a pain in the – " He stopped short, sending her a sideways look.

She smiled up at him, eyes alight with humor. "Feel free to speak freely, Jon. I can assure you I have heard far worse than whatever you were about to say."

He smiled back at her. "My brother has his flaws, as does anybody else. But he is a good man; loyal, just and fair. You could marry someone far worse."

"That is reassuring to hear," Maliya lied, keeping her face blank. "Thank you."

They paused at the entrance to the castle and Maliya let go off his arm. She looked down at herself, noting the dust and dirt and sighed. "I should go clean up. I appreciate you coming to find me."

"Of course, Princ – Maliya," he corrected, inclining his head. She turned to head back inside. "Maliya?" He called, causing her to look back around. "Welcome to the family."

Maliya stared at herself through the looking glass. "Wow," Julina breathed softly from beside her. "You look beautiful, My Lady."

"Yes," Maliya agreed in a dead, wooden voice. And she really did. The wedding dress that Arianne had made for her fit perfectly, accentuating her chest and slim waist. Her black hair contrasted elegantly against the white of her dress. Julina had done an intricate half up half down braided style, the rest falling down her back in its natural curls. What Julina didn't see behind the Princess persona was the pale tint underneath her olive skin, the look of anger and betrayal in her eyes and the strong urge to projectile vomit. "Thank you for your help, Julina. You may go."

The other girl curtsied and left, shutting the door behind her. As soon as she was gone, Maliya let out the breath she was holding, placing the looking glass on the table, unable to look at herself any longer. She stepped closer, slowly picking up the box and opening it. Her fingers lightly traced the silver sun as she absently debated whether or not to wear it. She swallowed harshly. If she was going to survive here, then at least part of her needed to accept her new life as a Stark. The other part would always be a Targaryen and a Martell. An arranged marriage would never change that.

A knock sounded at her door. Maliya snapped the box shut and quickly walked over to shove it in her trunk before arranging herself and turning towards the door. "Come in!" She called. "Hello Uncle," she greeted as he stepped in the room and shut the door. A strange look came over his face as he took her in, and for the first time in her entire life, she realized her uncle was speechless.

"You look like your mother," he murmured softly, his voice slightly hoarse. Maliya thought she noticed a sheen of tears in his wide eyes and pained smile, but he blinked and it was gone before she could be positive.

The thought added a hint of sadness to her anger and frustration, causing her to look away, a lump in her throat. "I wish I had known her."

"So do I, sweet girl." Oberyn gave her a melancholy smile, stepping further into the room, putting a bag on her bed and pulling her into a tight hug. Maliya sighed, wrapping her arms around his waist and trying to swallow the burning lump in her throat. He pressed a kiss to the top of her head and stepped back. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm alright," she shrugged, trying to put on a brave face. He raised a disbelieving eyebrow at her, knowing her well enough to tell when she wasn't being truthful. "Part of me may or may not be regretting this whole plan."

Her uncle chuckled. "Of course you are, your plan was absolutely insane. I still have difficulty believing that you thought your father would agree to let his precious eight and ten year old daughter traverse across Westeros to live with the Baratheons and the Lannisters." Maliya tossed him a glare and he raised his hands in defense. "While your father might not agree," he continued. "I fully support your need for revenge, as long as you're smart about it. It won't avenge your families death if you get yourself killed."

"It doesn't matter as much anymore as you're marrying me off to a Stark and I'm stuck in this frozen wasteland."

Oberyn noted her snarky attitude and grinned. "You're not going to let this new husband of yours off easy are you?"

Maliya struggled not to flinch at the word, 'husband,' forcing herself to smile back at him. "He already seems to think I'm a selfish, spoiled princess. I wonder how long I can keep that going for…" Maliya mused thoughtfully.

"Don't torture your new husband for your enjoyment – at least not too much," Oberyn laughed. "Keep in mind that you are here representing Dorne." She nodded seriously. "I'm proud of you and the way you're handling this, Maliya, and I know you're father is as well."

"Thanks Uncle Oberyn," she murmured softly.

"I have something for you," he told her, going over to the bag he placed on the bed and opening it. He pulled out a deep orange cloak and held it out so she could see. It was a heavier cloak designed for the north, and on the back was the red Martell sun. "It your maiden's cloak, which represents our family during the marriage ceremony. Ned Stark and I have decided that the ceremony will be a combination of both the old ways and the new." He continued to explain how the ceremony would proceed and Maliya forced herself to pay attention. Maliya's heart plummeted in her chest before it began beating rapidly as her uncle said, "Are you ready, dear girl?"

"Yes," Maliya croaked, nodding. She cleared her throat. "Yes," she repeated in a firm voice. Her shoulders unconsciously straightened, her eyes staring straight ahead as her uncle helped her fasten on her cloak.

He offered her his elbow as well as a reassuring smile that was tinged with sadness. It did nothing to calm her still rapidly beating heart, the only sign of how nervous she was – she wouldn't let anyone see past the blank expression she was currently wearing.

They walked silently out of the room, through the castle and towards the godswood. Maliya lost her breath as they approached the weirwood heart tree, the scene imprinted on her mind as one she would never forget. A small group of people were waiting for them, most of them carrying torches that threw light upon the tree, making it look intimidating, as if reminding her that she didn't belong here.

She recognized the Starks waiting on one side, varying expressions on their faces as she approached. She could practically feel Sansa beaming at her as well as the cold indifference from Lady Stark. She didn't recognize a lot of the people on the other side of the crowd, but she assumed they were friends of the family – at least many of them were smiling at her.

Finally, after she had looked at everything else, she allowed herself to look at the foot of the tree, where Lord Stark was standing with Robb and a man who she guessed was the Septon of Winterfell. She looked to Lord Stark first, who gave her the smallest of smiles as she approached before looking to her betrothed. Robb's expression was familiar. It matched hers directly – a blank mask hiding any and all emotion save the icy expression in his bright blue eyes, which seemed to glint at her in the shadows of the firelight.

Their eyes remained locked until she came to a stop in front of them. It was strange, but it was as if everything else for that moment faded away, a different kind of fog than the one that had taken over her in the crypts. She only blinked when Uncle Oberyn casually laid a hand over hers, which was clenching his arm tightly. She forced herself to take a deep breath, loosening her grip and tearing her gaze from Robb, turning her attention to Lord Stark instead.

"Who comes before the gods this night?" Lord Stark asked in a slightly louder than normal voice so that all could hear.

"Maliya, of the house Martell," her uncle answered, and Maliya was suddenly struck by the differences in accents. "Comes here to be wed. A woman grown, trueborn and noble. She comes to beg the blessings of the gods. Who comes to claim her?"

"Robb of the house Stark," Robb answered, stepping forward slightly, his voice clear and unwavering. "Heir to Winterfell and Warden of the North. Who gives her?"

"Oberyn of house Martell, who is her uncle."

Lord Stark spoke once more. "Princess Maliya, will you take this man?"

No! Maliya wanted to scream. I didn't agree to this wedding and I don't want to marry a stranger or a traitor! I don't want to share a bed with him, I don't want to spread my legs for him and I don't want to carry his children!

"I take this man," Maliya answered instead, her voice as calm as Robb's.

Robb stepped forward as her Uncle stepped back. Maliya immediately missed his warmth. Robb carefully removed the Martell cloak from her shoulders and handed it to her uncle, taking the white Stark cloak with the large direwolf symbol from his mother and replacing it. He stood by her side again reaching for her hand as they faced Lord Stark. Robb's hands were cold as both of them held hands as loosely as possible to avoid as much contact as possible.

The Septon stepped forward and tied a scarlet ribbon around their hands, saying, "Let it be known that Robb of house Stark and Maliya of house Martell are one heart, one flesh, one soul. Cursed be he who seek to tear them asunder. I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one for eternity."

Eternity….eternity….eternity… His words bounced around the inside of her head and she watched, feeling as if everything was moving in slow motion, as the Septon pulled the ribbon to untie it.

"Face each other and say the words."

They did as they were told, Robb holding her other hand now as well. "Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger…"

"I am hers and she is mine. From this day until the end of all days."

"I am his and he is mine. From this day until the end of all days."

"With this kiss, I pledge my love," Robb announced, looking down at her with half his face in shadow. Maliya's eyes widened slightly, her hands twitching within his as he swiftly lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. It was over quickly, barely a brush of the lips, barely enough to be called a kiss, but it was enough apparently, because he straightened and the crowd applauded.

I'm married. The panic settled over her but as with everything else at the moment, she internalized it. She must have blacked out for a few moments, because the next thing she was aware of she was sitting in the Great Hall next to Robb, a plate full of food in front of her and the laughing, talking people of Winterfell sitting at the tables below her.

"Welcome back," Uncle Oberyn murmured to her softly from her left.

She glanced at Robb on her other side and noticed that he was deep in conversation with his father. Lady Stark was on the other side of him and the rest of the Stark children, including Jon, was sitting and the table in front of them. "Sorry," she winced, turning back to Oberyn. "How bad was it?"

"It was actually quite impressive. Your smile may have looked a little forced to me, but you were thanking everybody after they congratulated you quite well. The food is heavier, and more bland than what we are used to but you should eat something," he continued, nodding toward her plate. "You have a long night ahead of you."

The comment was made innocently enough, for her uncle at least, but the added reminder of what was to come made her appetite flee. She picked at the food on her plate, busying herself with watching the people instead. Most everyone was already deep into their cups, the noise and laughter around them only growing louder. As people began to finish their food, the tables were pushed to either side of the hall.

The faces turned to the head of the table. She was just wondering what they were waiting for when she saw Robb look at her out of the corner of her eye. He stood, holding his hand out to her, his face unreadable. "Shall we dance?" He asked.

"Of course," Maliya answered, forcing a smile and putting her hand in his once more. Applause broke out as he led her onto the dance floor. When they reached the middle, he stopped, her left hand still in his as he slid his other hand around her waist, her hand going to his shoulder. The music began and he guided her through a series of unfamiliar steps to an unfamiliar song. The combination of the fact that he was a surprisingly good dancer and the song was simple allowed her to learn the steps quite quickly. Luckily other people began to dance along with them and they were no longer the center of attention.

Once she was able to stop focusing on what she was doing, Maliya surveyed her new husband closely. "You could at least pretend to look happy, you know," she murmured to him softly so they wouldn't be overheard. "Maybe smile every once in a while."

"Sorry, I wasn't taught how to put on an act and lie," he responded quickly, the words were casually said, betraying exactly what he thought about both her and the way she was raised.

"I've heard things about you, Robb Stark," Maliya told him as they continued to dance. All around them people were dancing, laughing and having a wonderful time, and here she was on her wedding day, and all she wanted to do was pretend like nothing happened and go home. "They say that you're fair and just, that you take after your father. Yet all you've done since I've gotten here is judge me."

Robb's gaze swung back to hers as he blinked, looking slightly stunned. "You're right," he admitted begrudgingly. "I'm sorry."

She accepted the apology, though she was a bit surprised by it. "There was some truth in what you said, I must admit. I'm sure you've had to deal with this in some regard, but as a princess of Dorne, I was taught to control my expressions and my reactions when dealing with certain situations so as not to offend anyone important. I learned from my father who is the hardest person to read. I never can tell what he is thinking."

"Yeah I guess I can understand – "

"May I cut in?" Malaya looked over her shoulder to see Lord Stark standing there, that same small smile on his face.

Robb looked to Maliya who smiled back and replied, "I would be honored, My Lord." Robb gave her a strained smile, turned to leave and then seemed to remember his manners and turned back, pressing a kiss to the back of her hand, murmuring, "My Lady." The whole thing felt very awkward.

Lord Stark took his sons place. When he gently grasped her hand, Maliya looking away, clenching her teeth and trying not to think of all the Targaryen blood that he must have spilled. "I remember my wedding like it was yesterday. We were a lot like you two," Lord Stark began, broaching the silence. "Thrust into a marriage with a stranger, both of us trying to do our duties to our family. It was scary, awkward and at times unfair. But as time went on, we learned more about each other. Our respect and eventually our love for each other grew into the family that you see today. I think our situation was a little more awkward than yours, though."

"Why do you say that?" Maliya asked, curious despite herself.

Lord Stark grinned, leaning closer slightly. "Lady Stark wasn't even supposed to marry me. She was originally betrothed to my older brother."

Maliya's eyes widened. "Really? What happened? Did one not find the other attractive enough?" She joked, grinning.

Lord Stark's mood sobered instantly, leaving Maliya confused. "It matters not," he dismissed, twirling her. "Just know that things between you and Robb will not always be this way. If you both work at it you will find that you have a partner for life."

Maliya nodded slowly though her brain was still trying to figure out his odd behavior. She wracked her brain, trying to think, and then suddenly it came to her. "Your brother was Brandon Stark."

"Yes," Lord Stark answered, and in that one word, Maliya heard years of pain, grief and anger. Brandon Stark had marched to Kings Landing after her father had supposedly abducted Lyanna in an attempt to rescue her. The Mad King charged him with treason and if she wasn't mistaken, forced him to watch his own father burn alive before he was strangled himself. It was an eye opening thought, one she had never had before, but for the first time she had to acknowledge the fact that the Stark's might have also dealt with the consequences of her fathers actions during the Usurpers Rebellion.

Maliya looked at Lord Stark in a whole new light. In a short period of time he had lost his father, his brother and his sister. How had that changed him? How was he able to just accept it and move on? She opened her mouth to ask him but shut it almost immediately. She didn't know this man and asking him that question might make him curious, which was just too dangerous.

Lord Stark changed the subject to something trivial like how she was liking Winterfell and she felt herself withdrawing once more. Half of her was focused on the conversation while the other half looked around the room as they danced. She frowned when on a particular twirl she caught sight of her uncle and Robb having what looked like a very intense conversation? What in the seven hells was her uncle up to?

"Uh oh. You have your thinking face on. That's never a good sign." Robb looked up from where he was leaning against the wall with his arms crossed, seeing his brother Jon approach him. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing," Robb chuckled casually. "Just watching the people dance."

"Liar," Jon snorted. "Your eyes have been glued to your bride since you left the dance floor." Robb didn't attempt to deny it, and both of them looked at the Princess again. Greatjon Umber had taken their father's place and was currently leading Maliya in an over exaggerated, ridiculous dance around the dance floor. They could hear Maliya's laughter across the room, the grin across her face breathtaking. "She is beautiful, isn't she?" Jon teased, nudging his older brother with his elbow.

"I can't argue with you there," Robb murmured. He had to admit that he had been stunned by the sight of her when she had approached the godswood with her uncle. The dress showed off her womanly body, a fact that Robb couldn't help but notice. Her face was beautiful as well, with her full lips and high cheekbones, but he felt as if her deep brown eyes were always so guarded.

"Many men would kill to be married to such a woman," Jon continued, watching his brother closely. "So why do you look as if someone has died?"

"I always believed that I would marry for love and yet here I am with a bride I don't know." The unfairness of it all still burned within him.

"It's more than that, isn't it?" Jon guessed.

Robb sighed. "I feel like every time I look at her, she's hiding something. Like I can't see who she really is."

"That's because you don't know who she really is," Jon reminded him gently. "She hasn't even been here a full three days, Robb, and you can't blame her for being guarded or cautious. Do you really think she wanted to marry your ugly arse?" Robb snorted, his somber mood breaking as he playfully punched Jon on the arm. "Seriously though," Jon continued, grinning. "I quite like her. She's not afraid to speak her mind and stand up for what she believes is right. Did you know that she is the only reason I'm here right now? She went up against your mother, something about wanting all of her betrothed's family present at the wedding."

Robb's eyes flickered to the head of the table where her mother was still sitting, watching the proceedings with a stiff expression on her face. "No wonder she looks so pleased," he muttered. Guilt trickled through him. "Listen, Jon, I should have – "

"Don't worry about it," Jon waved, cutting him off. "She's your mother, Robb, and you shouldn't have to fight my battles for me."

Robb reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, looking him in the eye. "You're my brother, Jon, and I'm really glad you're here. Even if I wish I wasn't."

"Let us speak of easier things," Jon smiled, his grey eyes twinkling. "Are you looking forward to finally becoming a man tonight?"

"Well it seems like I've entered an interesting conversation." Robb's eyes widened, his heart nearly stopping in his chest as he recognized the deep, accented voice. Sure enough, when he looked over his shoulder, Prince Oberyn was standing there, an amused look on his face, but a steely look in his eyes.

"Prince Oberyn! I – I didn't – " Jon stammered, bright red.

"Don't worry about it, Jon Snow. If you would please excuse us, I would like a word with young Robb here." Jon sent Robb an apologetic shrug and a good luck glance before disappearing into the crowd.

Resigned, Robb turned to face Oberyn fully. "I apologize, My Lord, we didn't mean – "

"I may be old, but I remember what it was like to be your age." He frowned, looking back out on the dance floor, his eyes on his niece. "Normally I would eagerly join in your conversations about women, believe me, but when the topic of discussion is my niece… well I'm sure you can understand my feelings on the subject."

"Of course, My Lord," Robb answered in a firm voice. Maliya had seemed to notice their conversation, and was sending them curious glances, her lips pulled down into a frown.

"In a perfect world, my brother Doran and I would keep Maliya close to home." A fond, easy smile crossed Oberyn's lips and Robb felt himself relax slightly, certain the danger had passed. "She's one of a kind, our Maliya. A large heart, a mischievous sense of adventure, a competitive streak that will take your breath away and a loyalty that will never be questioned. Not to mention her mother's beauty," Oberyn murmured in a soft, melancholy voice. Robb found himself hanging on to his every word, intrigued of this side of his bride that he had yet to see. "A word of advice, Young Wolf?" Robb looked over to him, but Oberyn still had his eyes on Maliya. "Treat Maliya as your partner, your equal in all things. She is no ordinary woman and she has an unrivaled temper that you don't want to find yourself on the other side of."

"She sounds like an interesting woman," Robb told him. He could practically feel the love he had for his niece and Robb had to admit the thought was reassuring.

"Your life won't be boring, that's for damn sure," Oberyn laughed. Robb began to smile along with him, when Oberyn's mood abruptly changed, his hand shooting out to grip Robb's shoulder tightly. Robb fought not to wince at the Prince's iron-like grip. "Let's get one thing straight, Robb Stark. Tonight will be the one and only time that you hurt my niece. You will hurt her, it is inevitable and not your fault, but that is your only free pass. If I hear that you have hurt her in any other way…." A cruel smile that didn't quite reach his cold eyes lit his face. "I will come find you. Alliances be damned."

Robb stood straight, looking the intimidating man in the eye and refusing to show anything other than determination and appreciation for the severity of the situation he found himself in. "I understand, Prince Oberyn. I will treat your niece with nothing other than the respect that she deserves."

Oberyn held his gaze for a long moment, searching. Robb held his breath, waiting what seemed like an eternity, until Oberyn finally grinned once more, releasing his grip and clapping him on the shoulder good-naturedly. "I hope so, for your sake. Now if you'll excuse me."

Robb waited until he was out of sight before releasing his breath, rolling his shoulder with a wince as his rapidly beating heart finally began to slow. The Red Viper was with a doubt one of the most terrifying men he'd ever met, not only because of his skill with a blade but also with how quickly his mood changes. Robb believed the threats that he hadn't bothered to disguise, but instead of being angry and indignant at being threatened, he thought he could sympathize with his position. Oberyn was leaving his niece thousands of leagues away from home in an unfamiliar place with people he didn't trust.

Robb pushed off the wall and headed up to the head table. After that encounter he needed a drink.

"It's time for the bedding ceremony!" Someone from the crowd roared, making Maliya's heart nearly stop in her chest as her body went cold.

She looked up with wide eyes from where she was chatting with Sansa before quickly rearranging her face to a neutral expression. Multiple people cheered, catcalling and laughing loudly, but everyone quieted when Lord Stark stood and raised his hand. "Due to the circumstances of this marriage and out of respect for the bride and groom, there will be no bedding ceremony tonight." Maliya was so relieved that she could have kissed Lord Stark at that moment, not that she would ever even attempt to. She was careful not to change her expression as he continued. "Let us congratulate Robb and Maliya Stark – " Maliya nearly blanched at her new name. " – on their wedding as they retire to their bedchambers."

There was more cheering and clapping as well as some jeering. The woman sent her pitying looks as she stood and made her way over to Robb, which were almost as bad as the jeering. Robb was smiling graciously at the crowd so Maliya forced herself to do the same. With a wave of his hand, Robb guided her out of the Great Hall as he led her up the stairs. She was confused at first when they were heading in the opposite direction of her bedchambers, then stupidly realized that she would now be sharing not only his bed but also his bedchambers.

They walked in silence, which lingered thick between them. Robb was the one who broke the silence as they paused in front of the door. "You can go on inside. I'm going to visit the privy for a moment."

Maliya nodded and opened the door, relieved once more that he was giving her the opportunity to prepare herself for what was to come. She shut the door behind her, taking a moment to look around. His bedchambers were bigger than hers, the bed was larger and the furs more comfortable. There were small, personal touches that claimed the room as his. A sword and shield resting in the corner of the room, a drawing from Rickon on the wall and carved figurines that looked like they hadn't been touched in a while. She also noticed her own trunk sitting at the foot of the bed.

She noticed a small writing table off to the side with a pitcher of wine and two glasses. She picked one up and filled it, taking a gulp in an attempt to calm her nerves. The taste was so different and foreign than the wine back home that she made a disgusted face as she swallowed and put the cup back down.

Maliya paced the length of the room, unable to determine what was wrong with her. Arianne, Tyene and the rest of the Sand Snakes never held back on the details of their sexual escapades and they had more than made Maliya aware of what to expect for her first time. So why was her heart trying to escape out of her chest, her breath coming out in pants and her head felt lightheaded?

Feeling incredibly awkward and out of place, more unsure of herself than she could ever remember being, Maliya attempted to start to unlace the back of her dress. She tried to pull the strings but her arms were bent in a painful angle and reaching over her shoulders didn't work either.

Cursing darkly under her breath, Maliya continued to struggle, growing more panicked and angry as she continued to fail.

"Here, let me help you." Maliya gasped, startled, and whirled around to Robb Stark entering the room. "I'm sorry," he apologized quickly, eyes wide at her reaction and his hands held out to his sides. "I didn't mean to surprise you."

Maliya pressed a hand to her chest and took a deep breath. "I didn't hear you come in."

Robb hesitated for a moment before stepping further into the room. He gestured to the dress. "Can I help you?" Nodding slowly, Maliya turned around, bringing her hair around in front of her, her eyes on the floor. She jumped slightly when she felt his fingers brush the top of her back as he began to undo the lacings. "Sorry," he murmured again, his deep voice closer than she had thought.

He was careful not to touch her bare skin again, something she was thankful for. She felt the dress sag when he finally finished and quickly raised her arms to hold it against her chest. She stepped away from him and slowly turned around to look at him. He looked a little pale in the darkness of the room but his bright blue eyes were watching her intently. Feeling as if she was about to pass out, Maliya took a deep breath, briefly closed her eyes, and allowed the dress to slowly slide down her body so she was standing in just her slip.

His eyes stayed on hers a moment longer before losing the battle and briefly roaming her body. She thought she saw his icy blue eyes darken slightly but it might have a trick of the light. He stepped forward until he was standing right in front of her, making her give the smallest of flinches.

Seven hells, Maliya, pull yourself together! She chided angrily, steeling herself.

Robb towered over her, forcing her to look up at him, which she didn't like, feeling vulnerable. He slowly raised a hand to gently cup her cheek and began bending down to kiss her. She shut her eyes in expectation, her entire body feeling panicky and his lips had just barely brushed hers when his presence was suddenly gone.

Blinking in confusion, Maliya looked around to see him standing on the other side of the room looking both resigned and frustrated. "What are you doing?" She asked.

"You don't want this," he told her, shaking his head.

"What?" Maliya gasped, her heart dropping. "I – of course I do! We're married now, it's my duty as your wife – "

"You might say you want to," Robb interrupted seriously, looking over at her. "But your body tells me otherwise. Did you know that you flinched away from me four times tonight?"

"That doesn't matter," Maliya dismissed, internally cursing herself. "We need to – "

"We don't need to do anything," Robb disagreed.

"So what are you saying?" Maliya demanded, eyes narrowing. "You don't want me?"

Robb gaped at her. "Want you? Of course I want you! Look at yourself," he gestured, eyes brushing over her body once more. "I am not the type of person that can take someone against their will."

Maliya scowled at him, almost unable to believe what was happening. "I do want this!" She growled, striding over to him. "I'll show you," she muttered, before grabbing either side of his face and crashing his lips to hers.

This kiss was in a completely different world than the previous brief, touches of their lips. Maliya's agitation was evident as her lips claimed his, forcing him to respond. And respond he did. Their lips moved fluidly as one in a fast, bruising pace. Maliya nipped his bottom lip, swallowing his groan and joining their tongues together in the battle. Maliya may have been a maid, but she prided herself on her kissing ability and had many years of experience.

Robb's hands, which had shot out to grip her hips, moved. One came up to tangle in the back of her hair, but the other traveled up her side, brushing against her breast. Maliya froze for the briefest of moments at the new, unexpected touch and she instantly knew she had made a mistake.

Sure enough, Robb pulled away, his face flush and his eyes bright. He shook his head, clearing his throat and taking a full step back. "I will not have sex with you until it is something that you want for yourself, not because tradition dictates what is supposed to happen on our wedding night."

Maliya recognized the steely glint in his eyes and knew this was a fight that she wouldn't win. She said nothing, watching him as he stepped around her and up to the bed, pulling back the furs to reveal the white sheet underneath. He took of his cloak and rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, pulling a small dagger out of the drawer of the bedside table.

"What are you doing?" She demanded as he proceeded to cut a line above the crook of his elbow, holding his arm out so the blood dripped onto the sheets below.

"Certain things happen when a man takes a woman's maidenhead," Robb answered, putting the dagger away and smearing the blood a little bit. She rolled her eyes at both his answer and the fact that she didn't think of that beforehand. "The blood is on my side. It's been a long day – we should both get some sleep."

With that, Robb blew out the candles in his bedchambers, stripped down to his small clothes and got into bed, pulling the furs around him. Feeling extremely confused, Maliya hesitantly got into the bed, rolling away from him and curling in on herself.

The rumors were true. Her husband was an honorable man and while a large part of her was relieved with the way things went tonight, another part of her felt like she had already completely failed as a wife. Like she let her family down because she was too scared of something as simple as sex. What the hell was wrong with her?

As Maliya Stark closed her eyes, a single tear dripped out of the corner of her eye.

The images were tangled and confusing. A crowd of people roaring it's approval, a scream filled with fury and grief, the wail of a newborn baby, a flash of an white oval object with gold veins running through it, a deep feeling of hatred, mistrust and helplessness and above all, the roar of a terrifying, gigantic beast.

Author's Note: Wow that was long! Hope everyone didn't mind. I'm really excited about this chapter and would love to hear your feedback! I would love to hear your thoughts and predictions about where this story might be going!

Thank you all for being so patient with me :)

Jem - Thanks for your review! I have taken everyone's opinion about the direwolf/shadowcat situation into consideration but you won't know my decision until you read it!

Deiron Lionheart - Thanks for reviewing, I liked your ideas about the different direwolves!

Guest - I couldn't picture Maliya and Robb, who want nothing to do with this arranged marriage, suddenly getting along and being happy with the situation. So they're going to butt heads quite a few times in the upcoming chapters! Thanks for reviewing, I appreciated the opportunity to read your thoughts!

Guest 2 - Thanks for the review, I'm glad you love the story so far!