Chapter 5: The Thing About Fate Is…

I have never been the most grateful of people. Maybe that's my problem.

Just about every self-help book out there emphasizes thankfulness, but I never got that far.

I guess I've always blamed my lack of gratitude on my parents. Everything they ever gave me came at a price. Fit their mold, even if it was harmful to my happiness, and get your reward. Every bit of kindness they showed me was immediately covered in insincerity and obligation. Love was never involved, at least not that I could see.

Does that mean I am an ungrateful person? Or will I, given the right circumstances, be able to appreciate something – anything? Does my need for detachment stem solely from them, or is it inherent in me?

I've never been in a situation where I could find out.

When I finally came to, the smell of stone and fur were the first things to fill my senses. Then it was the soft clack of something or someone else in the room, but I didn't want to open my eyes. Not yet. There is no way this is real. I'm still asleep in the tent. I can prove it. I opened my eyes, only slightly, to see the stone of the ceiling above me. There was so much detail to it. I never dreamed in that much detail before. No, it's a dream. Definitely a dream. Do something so you know it's a dream, Dahlia. Fly or something. I tried my best to fly. Nothing. Then I tried to float, just a little. Nothing happened. What does that even mean? There's no way this can actually be happening. Did I die? Or fall into a coma?

I sat up slowly, noting the window to the left of the bed where I was laying. The sky was gray, but beautiful, not like the gray sky in the city where I lived. And I could feel a chill emanating from outside and hitting my face. When I spoke my voice cracked, "Th-at's interesting."

The clacking in the room stopped. "Oh, you're finally awake, deary." I jumped slightly at the old woman's voice. Turning towards her I knew instantly who she was. The oldest woman in Winterfell, Old Nan.

"Awake," I gave a weak chuckle for nobody's but my benefit. "It doesn't feel like it, Nan."

Her wrinkled face shifted into a small smile. "Have we met before?"

"No." I shook my head, my thoughts drifting to the chapters of A Song of Ice and Fire where she'd made appearances telling stories. I snapped back to attention when she began her knitting once more. "But I know who you are." There were trace amounts of confusion in her eyes, but they dissipated as soon as I continued. "So, I'm in Winterfell?"

"Where else would you be?"

I shrugged, "Nowhere." It was only then when I noticed the fabric on my arms. It was thick, and nothing like what I was wearing during my escape from Steve and Sophie. I looked under the blanket, finding a dress where my pants should have been. Without filtering I spoke out loud, "My clothes?"

"The one's they brought you here in were covered in blood and sick," she answered without looking up, "Lady Catelyn said you could wear one of her old dresses."

Catelyn. Lady Stoneheart. She was still alive here. Nothing had happened to any of them yet. I went back to examining my new ensemble. "That was really nice of her. I'll need to thank her." Suddenly the old woman stood up and started for the door in the far corner of the room. I called out, too loudly almost. "Where are you going?"

She didn't stop, so I could barely make out what she said as she shut the door behind her. "They will want to know you are awake."

They? The Starks? I immediately felt dizzy at the thought. Characters from a fictional book, living and breathing and about to be thrown into troubling times. Deep breaths, Dahlia. It's fine. You're safe, right? They saved you, remember? Saved me. Did they save me or am I dead in the Washington woods somewhere?

That thought hit me the hardest… Am I dead? The walls began to close in on me, as they had before when things would get too heavy, when I was still fighting daily panic attacks. Air, I need air. The doctor said to get air. I threw the blanket off of myself and stepped on the stone floor. I need air. Where do I go? I quickly remembered one of my favorite places depicted in the books, the place where the Northerners go when they want to speak to their Old Gods: the godswood. I quickly scanned the room and found a pair of shoes. They were a size too big for me, and not as sturdy as my hiking boots, but they'd work. I slid them on before stepping out of the room and into a long, dark hallway. I just need air. And advice, I could use some advice. I set off down the hall, then down some stairs, then out of a door that luckily led outside. I could barely enjoy the sight of it all. No, I couldn't. Not now. All I could think about was if I was dead or not, and if I wasn't, then what? What the hell was I doing here? What was I going to do here? I have no money; I have nothing. What am I supposed to do?

Soon I found what must have been the godswood. The trees had a sort of ominous charm to them, and I could see a path through. This must lead to the weirwood. That's where I need to go. Maybe I can find the answers there. My pace quickened from a trot to a full-out run. It felt nice to be running, the stiffness in my legs wore off with a few strides. How long was I sleeping? Am I still asleep? No, I'm probably dead. It was less than a minute before I reached the pale tree, its red sap face stared at me but I was not scared of it. When I reached it, and the black pool beside it, I felt better.

I'd prayed only a few times before, to my parents' God. At the time I'd asked for God to make my parents love me. I asked for God to make me normal. I'd ask for the things most kids asked for. But those prayers were never answered. And when I first read A Game of Thrones the God of Death made the most sense to me, because I knew it was real. We all die. I might be dead now, even. Hell, I've died before. But that wasn't the god I needed to pray to now. The Old Gods. That's who can help me here, if I really am in Winterfell. I sat down at the base of the white tree and looked up into its face. "What am I supposed to do?" My voice was as quiet as a whisper, "Am I dead?"

It stared back at me.

"Is any of this real?" I touched the bark, then the ground, "It feels real, but… But I know it can't be." I felt a low heat behind my eyes as I continued, "If it is, then how did I get here? Can I go back? Do I have to?" The air here was so crisp and clean, and in these lands corporations didn't exist. My parents wouldn't be able to make me hate myself. My best friend wouldn't be able to hurt me. "I don't think I want to go back." Then a fear struck me. I didn't want to go back, but, since I had made it here unknowingly, I would have no idea if those same supernatural powers will throw me back to reality. I had never truly been happy, and here, maybe I could make a new start. I could be myself. I could try to be happy. I could try to do something with my life. A clean slate in a world that is about to turn into a war zone. I felt the heat spread to the rest of my face, and everything began to blur with the coming tears. It felt so strange to me, to be crying. I hadn't cried like this since I was five years old, and even then it was only for a moment. Now I was sobbing alone in a godswood, a world away from my home, praying that I wouldn't have to go back. I heard faint footsteps in the forest behind me, but I couldn't compose myself. I couldn't stop my whispered pleas. I spoke to the Old Gods in the loudest voice I could muster, "It's so beautiful here, I want to stay. Please, let me stay. I don't want to be dead yet."

The steps were close now, and with them there was the yapping of a puppy.

I looked away from the tree before me over to the figure approaching. I wiped the tears from my eyes, sucking in a deep breath the second I realized who it was.

"They've been looking for you." It was Robb Stark and his young direwolf Grey Wind. "We should get back."

"Am - I - in trouble?" I choked out as casually as I could, all the while the wolf pup was struggling to get free from his master's arms.

"I don't think so." He set the squirming ball of fur down on the ground, at which point it clumsily bounded over to me. "They were just worried that your pursuer found you."

"He's worlds away now." I ran my hand through the baby direwolf's fur, and a calming feeling washed over me. He was trying to climb up to lick my face. I had always wanted a dog. They are supposed to be good for people who are sad most of the time. I looked back to Robb. "I'm sorry, I just needed to come here."

As I stood up, picking up tiny Grey Wind with me, he spoke again, "You worship the Old Gods?"

"I don't know." I glanced back to the tree, my eyes flooding again as we started walking back. "I thought - they could help me figure out what to do now."

"I upset you."

From what I could see he looked genuinely concerned. "No, no." I hastily corrected him with the only smile I could force. "I just have too much on my mind. I always do." Another soft yip brought my attention back to the puppy I was carrying. "What's his name?" I figured I would ask even if I knew the answer.

"Grey Wind."

"He's a cute puppy." I rubbed the beast's belly, my smile becoming more natural. "My parents never let me have a pet growing up, which was ridiculous, because they had so much money."

"So you are highborn?"

This was a question I knew how to answer. "Our class system is different where I come from. It has less to do with names and more to do with money, but yes, I'd be the equivalent to a highborn." It was an honest answer. I looked over to Robb, who was walking a half of a step in front of me. "Is it alright that I'm carrying him?"

"Just be careful, he's a direwolf." His voice swelled with pride, and I couldn't blame him. Grey Wind, even as a puppy, was something wonderful.

"I will be."

We walked past several old oaks before something seemed to strike him. He turned to me, and unfastened the cloak from his shoulders. "You must be cold."

"It's alright." I tried to sidestep away from his reach. "No really."

"I insist," he said as he set the warm fur collar around my neck, causing the bottom to drag on the ground.

As soon as the warmth spread I stopped objecting. It was colder in Winterfell than it had ever been where I lived. I was thankful for another layer, if unfamiliar to chivalry. I laughed out loud, "You Starks and your honor." Just then, when I looked at him, Grey Wind's small face in my peripheral, I was struck with the truth. They were going to die. They were going to die a sad death, and yet here they were being kind to me. A rush of sorrow came over me, and tears fell once again. "I'm sorry, I haven't cried this much since I was a baby."

"What has you crying?"

I couldn't tell him the truth, at least not that truth, at least not now. "I used to feel so alone, but now that I actually have no one…" I took in a stammering breath before I continued to speak, "I don't have anything. Nothing. Now I'm homeless."

When I wiped my eyes I could see the wheels turning inside his head. "Where do you come from, foreigner?"

"Someplace far away. Very far. Farther that the Dothraki lands." His wheels turned some more, causing an uncomfortable silence as we stood there in the forest. I waited until I couldn't stand it before speaking out, "And call me Dahlia, foreigner makes me think of that lame band… Hot Blooded was alright, but the rest is kind of…" I stopped my rambling, realizing he wouldn't understand a word of it. "Sorry."

Then he said something I didn't expect.

"I will see if Father will let you stay here." he seemed to nod in agreement with himself. "You said your parents are rich?" I swiftly nodded in response. He started walking once more. "That will help."

"I can't get their money though. They might as well not even exist anymore."

I didn't know if he heard me until he mumbled, "I will still see."

Once we were out of the godswood I was feeling a bit better. It might have been the cute direwolf pup in my arms, or that my mind was starting to acclimate to everything, but it didn't really matter. I wasn't so sad anymore. Once we entered the place that looked unmistakably similar to a castle, he led me through a series of hallways until we reached a sort of sitting room where we came to a stop. I could feel a ball of nerves in my stomach, the stress of having no idea where I was going or if I would be safe, but there was something else there as well.

I was grateful though, for the first time in my nineteen years.

Of all the people who could have found me, it was Robb and Grey Wind, both of which had showed me nothing but concern and kindness. It's not that I wouldn't expect that sort of thing from Ned Stark's son, but it hit me in the strangest way. I looked to him and smiled with ease and puffy eyes. "I'm glad you're the one who found me, Robb."

"Why's that?"

"You've been so nice to me. It's not something I'm really used to." I couldn't maintain eye-contact any longer, so I turned down to the direwolf, "Thank you."

"Wait here while I speak to them."

"Okay." He reached out, and I could feel my arms tense in anxiety around the puppy in my arms as I spoke, "Can he stay with me?"

"Fine."

Without another word he disappeared into an adjacent room, and I was left to stew in my own worries. Lucky I still have someone to keep me company, even if it is just a wolf.

There were no clocks to tell me how long I sat waiting, and a part of me was glad for that. From my estimate it was at least an hour, probably closer to two of me sitting in silence, running over everything that had happened in the past few days, running over the plots of the five books of the series I had read. All the while, Grey Wind was bouncing clumsily around the room. I can't let you die, little wolf. Not like that.

Once he'd calmed down again I was able to sit him in my lap again and even fell asleep. "I hope I get to stay." My words startled him for a moment, but he must have deemed me safe, because he went back to his nap. I don't know what I would do if they made me leave here. That thought went on repeat in my mind. I couldn't become a whore; it just wasn't something I would be able or willing to do. I couldn't do anything really, could I? I just need to stay here… "At least until I figure out-" I paused, wondering exactly what I needed to figure out. How to get back? Going back to that unhappy life, comfortable as it was, was not even remotely what I wanted. It probably wasn't even possible, regardless. I wanted to stay here, with the clean air and the beautiful surroundings. Here, where things like honor were simple and the media isn't splattered everywhere. There was only one thing I really needed to decide. I whispered my request, "Until I know what I'm supposed to do next."

I had only just finished my sentence when the door across the room opened, and Robb motioned for me to join them in the room.

I walked with hesitant steps, clinging to the sleeping wolf, into a room not entirely different from the one that I had sat in before. There were two other people in there, besides Robb and myself: Lord Eddard Stark and his wife Catelyn.

She spoke first. "My son has asked that you be allowed to stay here in Winterfell."

It took me a few beats to answer, because I was too busy looking at the woman. It was true, she didn't look like she belonged here in the North, but there was definite beauty in her face. Suddenly I felt very small. "I don't really have anywhere else to go, my Lady."

She continued as my eyes darted over to look at Lord Eddard. In the field I hadn't taken much note of him, for all I knew he was some nerdy L.A.R. , but I knew better now. Now I knew that he was THE Ned, and THE Ned was looking at me intently. "Robb said your parents are wealthy. What is your house name?"

"Emerson."

Her brow furrowed. "I'm not familiar with this house."

Deep breath, Dahlia. You can maneuver this, you've read the books at least a dozen times. When I spoke again there was a confidence in my words that I wasn't expecting. "That's because I came a long way to be here."

Finally, Lord Stark spoke. "Why?"

Why? Shit, I don't have a good answer and somehow I don't think they'll take the 'magically appeared here' thing for truth. Think, think! What will THE Ned understand? Then it all clicked. "Honor." I saw his eyebrow raise slightly. "Where I come from it's very rare, so I came here to Winterfell."

Catelyn was next, "Alone?"

I didn't think I could fake any more sureness, so I opted to just nod to answer.

"Can you be of use to us?"

Shit. Think, Dahlia, think! "I can play music," I practically blurted out, "For the King's visit." She seemed to nod slightly, considering if it was a practical answer. I kept going though. "And I'm decent with children, if you ever need someone to look after the little ones. I babysat for a family once, and they said I was fun." My mouth kept on moving so that my brain had to reel to catch up. "I'm also reasonably educated in a bunch of different subjects, I can be a tutor. I've done that before a few times."

"What can you teach?" I was surprised when it was Robb who spoke this time.

"Math, that's what I've tutored children in before." I could feel my shoulders beginning to relax as I continued, "Also, writing and reading, and self defence too, and yoga, but I don't think you need that."

"Yoga?"

I laughed, but only slightly. "Stretching." Lord Stark straightened up in what I assumed was interest. "It makes you strong too. "

Catelyn quickly spoke up before Lord Stark could ask me anymore questions. "What instrument do you play?"

"Piano mainly, and I'm a fair singer." Then it struck me that they wouldn't have modern instruments here.

THE Ned spoke again, "Robb said he found you by the weirwood, praying to the Old Gods."

I nodded, calming down again as I remembered why I was there and exactly what was going on in my life. "I was hoping they would help me."

I couldn't tell how any of them felt about my answer, or anything I had said. My stomach knotted up again when Lord Stark broke the silence. "Give us a moment, please." His eyes looked from my to his son, "You too, Robb."

We were only sitting for a few minutes when Robb stood up and turned to me, "Don't worry."

"It's difficult not to," I admitted, taking yet another 'calming' breath. "It's been a long time since I've felt this scared."

He opened his mouth to say something just as another one of the people from the beheading came into the room. "So you found her then?" I looked him over, just as he was doing to me. It wasn't hard to guess who he was, the cocky smile was a dead giveaway that it was none other than Theon Greyjoy. Once he finished sizing me up I might as well not even been in the same room. "Where?"

"The godswood." The Ironborn seemed surprised by this, and why that was I didn't really bother to try to understand. Robb must've felt the new tension in the room, because he seamlessly shifted into an introduction, "This is Theon Greyjoy. He helped bring you back to Winterfell when you…"

When I puked, then passed out. What a first impression to make. "Thank you," I smiled over to him and noticed that the thanks didn't feel forced. Think of what he becomes, maybe you can help him? I shook the thought from my head as I introduced myself to the Stark's ward. "I'm Dahlia Emerson."

Before any more pleasantries were shed the door across the room opened once more. Lord Eddard nodded me over and I jumped up, only turning to the two boys to whisper a quick, "Wish me luck."

It was time to hear what my fate was going to be, and from the mouths of two people whose fate I knew too well, no less.

Author's Note: SPOILERS! For goodness sake SPOILERS! If you haven't finished the first five books (the ones that are currently published), then please read with caution knowing that there will be spoilers galore. That's what happens when an avid reader gets thrown into that world, SPOILERS... Now that that is over, thank you for reading.Thank you for the follows, reviews, and input! Keep it up, especially with this chapter because it's getting into everything more. It is a longer chapter, so heads up. PLEASE REVIEW WITH CRITIQUE. It helps me to no end, and it will help me make any corrections I might need to make. THANK YOU!