Savages - LolaStark

Chapter Twenty-Three

- 2 Years Later -

It had been said that the Winter would be a long one. That they would be burdened by the chill for years to come with no end in sight. It had seemed that way at first. The land was wrought with snow and ice and the winds had been harsh, the clouds dark and ominous. Two years it had blasted through not only the North, but most of Westeros. And for two years she felt winter's grasp upon her.

And then as soon as it had come, it had ended, replaced by the joyous smell and sounds of Spring. The shortest winter since anyone could remember.

With spring came the victory for the King in the North. All the way from the mainland she'd heard of Robb's victories in the South. Dorne had provided their aid and it was with the Tyrells and the Martells that Robb finally had a large enough army to take King's Landing. North, South, East and West belonged to the King in the North should he wish it.

But he only wanted the North and thus the kingdoms were split.

Now it was Tommen, under the careful eye of the Tyrells, who was King on the Iron Throne. Margaery Tyrell would wed the boy upon his year of majority and the dynasty of the Lannisters was at an end.

Tywin Lannister lost his gold, and his head. The Lioness of King's Landing was only spared by her cubs tears. In accordance with the law, she could be sent into exile. And to exile she was sent, far across the narrow sea, to be guarded for all days by men who could not be bought.

It was Jaime who proved to be the smartest of them, taking an offer of the Night's Watch under the command of Drystan Magnar. Reports had said that the Kingslayer felt he had changed in captivity and wanted to repent for his sins doing what he was best at, wielding a sword.

And Tyrion Lannister was left in King's Landing, having been found not guilty for conspiring against the throne, with several character witnesses who vouched for his character. One of those being, Sansa Stark, who after the chaos of Joffrey's death, was returned to her family at Riverrun.

Stannis' witch had vanished when Robb's army marched on Dragonstone and took Stannis prisoner. No one knew where she'd gone and it was Stannis who was delivered to King's Landing in chains and given a cell in the dungeons. No one felt right executing a mad man, for that's what he was. Mad. So insane with his crave for power that reality had ceased to exist for him.

Gendry wrote to her once after speaking to him. He said their uncle kept apologizing, begging for forgiveness and calling him his dead brother's name. Renly. Gendry looked so like the dead Baratheon that Stannis was sure he was being haunted. The only other name he called for was Fallon's and she wondered if what she had said to him at Dragonstone had gotten to him after all. She was his family and perhaps he was beginning to realize that.

These were the only bits of news she received from the King's campaign. Two years of battles and bloodshed until the end came and victory was declared. There were three kings in Westeros now. The King of Dorne, the King on the Iron Throne and the King in the North. And for the time being things were at peace.

Now the talk was of the fair haired, Mother of Dragons to the East. She posed a dangerous threat to the Kingdoms and would no doubt be seeking out the throne she claimed as her own. But she had yet to cross the narrow sea and no King in Westeros dared venture to her territory.

It was Garlan who brought all this news to her. She had not heard from Robb since their tearful farewell. She had tried to do as he asked and move on but everything was a constant reminder of him. She was home, but she was not. She felt the pain of fantasized memories that she had given her King years ago, in hopes of easing their separation. But now all they did was serve as a painful reminder of a time long passed.

She was often alone, now. She found herself venturing out into the countryside, enjoying the green color of the land that had been long erased during the winter years.

This day in particular, she had felt the need to escape. She had ridden Fiachra across the moors until she reached the forest at the base of the mountain, a half day's ride from Kingshouse. It was a godswood and in it's center was a hot spring where she would swim in solitude, at the base of a large weirwood.

She would whisper her prayers, prayers for selflessness and understanding but it seemed as though the gods were not always so intent to grant her desires. The blood-red leaves fell around her with the warm wind as she floated there in the water, feeling the hot water soaking into her bare skin.

"Everyone's looking for you," a voice said and she jumped in surprise, submerging her naked body under the water as she spun around to see a very amused looking Garlan Tyrell.

He was as handsome as ever, his golden hair shining in the Skagosi sunlight that peaked through the trees and it was no wonder she'd heard his name off the lips of every woman of Skagos since his arrival.

He had opted to travel back to her homeland when she had left Casterly Rock. She had thought at first Robb had convinced him to come along, to try and win her heart in the aim of helping her to move on. But she was glad to discover that he followed her simply because he was fond of being her friend.

"They can wait a bit longer," she said boredly, swimming backward into the center of the spring where she was farther from his wandering gaze. "They will have their Nighean paraded in front of them soon enough."

"So I see you are through with your protests?" he asked and she shrugged.

Broden had come to her a month earlier to tell her he had sent word through the land and that the bravest of Skagosi would attend the games to honor her. She had initially refused to participate. Even now she recalled the day prior to the arrival of the lords and their warriors, that she had told Broden she would not consent her hand to any man.

Any man but Robb Stark of course.

"You're expected at the feast," Garlan reminded her, pulling his dagger from his hip and using it to dig at his nails. "Your Skagosi may love a nice meal and a good ale, but I assure you a hundred men did not come here to be slighted a view of the beautiful Nighean."

"A hundred men who would be sorely disappointed to find out their Nighean is not interested in selling herself to any of them," she muttered under her breath but by the sound of his chuckle she assumed he'd heard her.

"Would it appease you if I entered the games, My Lady?" he teased, pulling his sword from its sheath and raising it towards the sky. "I would gladly fight to win your heart. I would no doubt win with little effort," he boasted in jest.

"You would no doubt be without your betrothed if you did such a thing," she warned him, with a knowing smile and Garlan widened his eyes in mock horror. "And other vital parts of your anatomy."

"You're right," he said. "Enat would slaughter me."

"And rightly so," she laughed.

It had been no surprise to Fallon that her two dearest friends took so well to one another. It had taken no time at all for Enat, upon their reunion, to come to Fallon with news that she hated that pompous knight from the South. 'How ever can you call that man a friend?' she had asked her once and Fallon had only laughed.

Needless to say, Enat had soon changed her mind, finding Garlan's relentless nature quite flattering. Garlan had indeed been enraptured by the fiery Skagosi woman and his heart was no longer free for every girl with a beautiful face. It belonged to Enat Friel.

It had taken some time and courage, but Garlan had then asked for Enat's hand - first a blessing from Fallon and then Bard who agreed heartily to welcome the passionate young man to the family.

"She has been slaving all week to make sure your gowns are ready for the games," Garlan reminded her and she nodded. "You will be quite fetching, of that I have no doubt."

"And to think I imagined betrothing you to my best friend would keep you from flirting with me, Ser Garlan," she teased, motioning for him to turn around so she could get out of the water and he laughed loudly before reluctantly turning his back to her.

She climbed out of the water and slipped on her shift, followed by the simple wool gown she had been wearing all morning. She looked over her shoulder once to see Garlan, surprisingly, doing as he was asked and she wrung out her hair and plaited it as he walked over.

"Must I really do this?" she asked, all pretense gone and she saw his joking demeanor calm slightly as he nodded.

"This is your destiny remember?" he said, taking her hair in his hands and undoing her sorry excuse for a braid and fashioning one himself.

"But does it not feel as though I am being sold off. I have no say, only the will of the gods and the luck of these men?"

"Your brother would not force you to do this, not if you really did not want to."

Deep down she knew that. It was something else that was causing her to doubt her fate.

Someone.

"I cannot escape him, Garlan," Fallon whispered, running her hands over her arms as the wind blew against them. "How am I to sit there and give someone the pretence that my heart is free to give, when it can never be?"

"Two years is a long time, Fal, but perhaps not long enough to move on," he told her, his hands on her shoulders once he finished her braid. She could feel him looking down at her but she could only look forward, towards the weirwood, with longing eyes.

"He still writes to you, no?"

"When he is not busy ruling his kingdoms," he told her and she nodded.

"How is he?" she asked though she immediately chided herself for doing so.

"He is well, as well as he can be I assume," he informed her. "You will be happy to know that Catelyn, Sansa and Arya have returned to Winterfell at last. Theon has kept it well looked after, as well as Bran."

"Rickon writes to Bran almost every week," she said with a smile. "Bran loves reminiscing about his time in Skagos. And Rickon will not stop pleading with me to return to Skane and visit Bricriu. I will never know how that man became so fond of those children, but I can safely say when we rode through his camp I did not expect to see him with Rickon on his knee, telling the boy stories in the Old Tongue."

"I assume he would not dare to hurt those children with Enat there to scold them," Garlan teased and she smiled. "Bran will be sad to miss the games, but Rickon, I'm sure will tell his brother everything in excruciating detail."

"I am sure to make a fool out of myself," she decided. "Half of the men already know what happened between Robb and I. I'm not sure how anyone could want me now."

"You will find someone and if he does not love you as every man should then I will kill him myself."

It was a joke and she laughed slightly. But the reality was, if she attended these games, in seven days she would have a husband. And while she didn't know who it would be to win her hand. She knew who it wouldn't be. And it didn't sit well with her.

"I don't see why I even have to go tonight," she complained, turning around to face him, forgetting her solemness in place of humor. "Rowan gets to miss the feast."

"You know, for someone so grown up you sound an awful lot like a child when you complain," he teased, lifting her up onto her horse. "And besides, do not chastise your brother. He is a new father this day. You ought not shame him for delaying his travel whilst his wife was in labor."

"Yes, this wife we keep hearing about but," she said rolling her eyes. "My dearest brother won't even tell me about this pretty wife of his. And of course Broden is useless to ask. He hardly speaks about his own wife. I'd be surprised if he remembered her name."

"I don't think Old Lord Crowl, minds," Garlan joked, mounting his own horse as they set off for Kingshouse. "I think he is quite content enough have his daughter marry the Magnar with a babe on the way."

"I daresay Dearg would marry the Magnar himself if he weren't already a married man," she said and enjoyed the laughter she received from Garlan in return.

The next seven days would begin in the morning, and with them the games that would determine her fate. She was not prepared for this, she decided. She had told Robb that she would wait for him, but it seemed as though, after two years, he no longer wanted her to.

And all that was left now was for her to do her duty.

As the Nighean.

[Broden]

Neither Broden nor Fallon looked at each other as they sat in silence.

Fallon was sitting up, her arms crossed over her shoulder as she frowned deeply, letting her brother know exactly how displeased she was. Enat was fixing her hair, looking periodically between the two, watching the tension grow as both refused to acknowledge the other's stubbornness.

They certainly were exactly alike.

Fallon was nearly ready to be presented at the opening ceremony. Enat had worked all morning to alter the dress and the hair as Fallon would fidget and complain. Eventually she had tired of the hostile environment and forced Broden in the room to keep the girl quiet, only to gain an even more hostile atmosphere than she had hoped for. Only this one was silent and full of unspoken tension.

Broden on the other hand, was enjoying himself as he sat there. He may have been annoyed with Fallon's tantrum, but he was rather fond of the way she tried to avoid his stare in silence. Soon enough it would become torture for his sister and she would feel the need to protest this custom once more.

She did, however, look undeniably beautiful. She wore Magnar green, an exquisite gown that had once belonged to their aunt and had been altered and added to by Enat's craftful hand. It was long, with a train that was embroidered with silver thread, into patterns more detailed than he had previously noticed. Her black hair fell down her back, pinned away from her face to reveal her fair complexion and vibrant eyes.

Once Enat had finished putting ever curl in pace, she then added the jewelry that Broden had hand chosen himself from the Magnar family jewels. They didn't have much, but everything they did have, aside from his mother's ring that was now neatly wrapped around his wife's finger, was for Fallon on this day.

Enat placed the silver circlet around Fallon's head, the twisted designs of the metal adding a regalness to his sister's forehead. There were three rings in total, two belonging to each of the previous Nigheans that she was meant to wear and the third made specifically for her. This ring she would pass down to Broden's daughter and to the subsequent Nigheans thereafter.

Enat reached out and handed the third ring to Broden, as well as the necklace that had once belonged to their mother. Neither spoke as he stood, his boots creaking on the wooden floors of Fallon's chambers and crossed the room until he was standing behind her.

"Our parents are proud of you, sister," he whispered, reaching around her to place the simple jewels in their place around her neck.

Finally he turned her so she was facing him, grabbing her shoulders to position her where she could not jerk away. She looked up at him and for the first time since he'd entered the room their eyes met each other. He took her hand in his and place the ring on her finger. She looked down at the piece of metal, encircled around her third finger and Broden could tell she was surprised by the sight of it.

"I don't understand," she whispered, breaking the silence as he had predicted and he let her see the corners of his lips rise slightly.

"It has a piece of all of us, all seven of the Magnar family rings given to us as children," he explained, tracing over the small pieces of the strange intertwining patterns.

Each of them had received a family ring upon their birth that they would wear upon their sixteenth namedays. Each was unique and forged by the Magnar's personal blacksmith. There upon the small circle was a piece of each of those rings, creating a diverse set of engravings that all lead to the jewel in the center.

It was a gray stone, one that was bright and as beautiful as the wearer.

"Keeran, Albertha, Elsbeth, Rowan, Corran, You and I, Fallon," he said then, taking her hand and gripping it hard in his. "You are our sister, by blood and in spirit. And I know if they were all here today, they would tell you how proud they are of you."

Fallon swallowed hard then, looking away and realizing Enat was no longer in the room. It was only the two of them. She looked back up at her brother and Broden saw the water in her eyes. He reached up to wipe it away and gave her his best smile.

"I know I am not Rowan, I know you two were closest, but I hope that you know that I love you, Fallon. You are precious to me - to all of us, and I have always known it, even if you have not. I know it is hard, to do this today and that you may hate me for making you. But you should know-"

"Broden," she whispered, interrupting him as he tried to explain why he had asked her to go through with the games. "Rowan and I were always closest, but I never loved you any less than him. I thought you knew that?" Her admission surprised him. "You and I are so very similar, and I think that is why we did not always get along as well as Rowan and I. But I always looked up to you and admired how brave and selfless you were. I always wanted to be as selfless as you Broden, but-"

"You can't always be selfless Fal," he admitted. "Sometimes, there are more important things."

"He's right," a deep voice said and both turned to see the large man, donned in rich Magnar colors, stood with wide grin and a thick beard.

"Father?" Fallon said in surprise, her smile widening as the man let out a large laugh and engulfed her in a hug.

"Look at you, Lass. More beautiful than any Nighean before you," he told her, kissing her cheek and Enat came, Garlan in tow, swatting Drystan's hand as it came dangerously close to ruining Fallon's hair.

"Magnar or no, Milord, you'll not ruin what I've spent hours with these two trying to finish," Enat said, pulling Fallon away from the large brute that was her father.

"What are you doing here," Fallon asked her father as he adjusted his doublet which was nearly too large from his years of wearing black in the Winter abyss. "Shouldn't you be up at the Wall commanding your rangers."

"Sometimes being, Lord Commander has it's perks," Drystan said with a wink. "Snow sends his regards, said he was sorry he could not make it for the games but hopes to visit soon enough."

Broden saw Fallon smile at the mention of Jon Snow, the man she'd not seen since her time at Winterfell, long before the war had weathered them all. Broden had met Snow once before and found him to be as much a man of honor as his brother, the King.

It was then that Rickon came in, dragging another man by his hand that caused Fallon's eyes to light up. He was dressed much finer than the last time Broden had seen him. Cleaned up and clean shaven, Broden could see the resemblance between him and his sister. Their sister.

"Well ain't you a sight for sore eyes," the young man said and Fallon's grin was wide as she embraced him, kissing his cheek enthusiastically.

"Gendry, you are here?!" she said excitedly.

"Well if it weren't for Broden, here, I'd have never known about it to begin with," he told her, his eyebrows raised curiously. "You seemed to leave out this bit in your last letter." She avoided this brother's gaze looked down at Rickon who was now smiling up at her in awe.

"Gods, Fal, you look like a princess!" Rickon said then, causing the whole group to laugh heartily as the young boy took her hand in his and she leaned down to kiss the boy on the cheek.

"And you, my love, look very princely in that Stark gray," she said, fixing the ties of his tunic so they were hidden under the doublet Enat had sewn for the boy.

Broden looked down at Fallon and the Stark boy fondly. He had been hesitant, at first when Robb had asked him to foster Rickon at Kingshouse. He thought perhaps the sight of the boy would be too much for Fallon to bear, especially so near to her departure from Casterly Rock. But as miserable as Fallon had been, Broden found that little Rickon helped keep her mind occupied. He was a spirited fighter, and a quick learner of the Old Tongue. And over time, Broden found that he as well as the rest of Kingshouse, was quite fond of having a Prince of Winter in their midst.

He'd soon have a child of his own, he realized. He'd never really thought about being a father during his youth, but the more time he spent with the Stark boy, he warmed up to the idea of having a son of his own. He hated to admit he knew hardly anything about his pretty wife. But she was a kind woman and generously overlooked his shortcomings when it came to charm. Keeran had been good with women, and Rowan. But not Broden.

"Come, My Prince," Fallon soon said, taking the child's hand. "You will sit with me and my brothers during the games, where you can see everything."

They walked out of the room then, down to the courtyard where she would await Broden to escort her to the fields. The men would already be out there, awaiting their Nighean and the commencement of the tournament.

When she was out of the room, his father looked at him curiously.

"Rowan is not yet here?" Drystan asked and Broden shook his head.

"Delayed in Karhold on their journey here," he explained. "Seems as if you have your first granddaughter."

Drystan grinned. Broden's father had always liked large families. He had thought, for some time, that Broden would be the first to continue the Magnar line. But the war had delayed many things. And it seemed that Rowan was the first grant their father that wish.

"Little Moira Magnar will be here in a few days time," Broden explained and his father nodded.

"After your mother," he acknowledged, the name that belonged to his wife and Broden's mother.

"Yes, after mother."

"It's just as well," Garlan noted. "If they had arrived on time, I expect it would have only confused Fallon."

"Yes but I don't like all this lying," Enat added with a scowl. "She should know what is going on and yet we continue to keep secrets from her."

"It's not our secret to tell, love," Garlan told her, kissing her cheek as she tried to squirm out of his reach. "Rowan should be the one to tell her."

"She would have refused to participate today if she had seen them together," Gendry told them.

"Well we can't have that," Broden interrupted. "She'll do her duty and be the Nighean and in seven days time she will come to know that our secrets were for the best."

Broden saw four skeptical glances in his direction, but neither offered up a better solution. In a few days time, Rowan would arrive with his new wife and by then it would be too late to stop the games.

Broden could only hope his sister wouldn't hate him for long.

[Fallon]

"Why do they wear the masks?" Rickon whispered from his seat next to Fallon, wriggling closer until he was close enough to reach her ear. Fallon laughed.

"It's tradition that the warriors who compete in the games be masked so that neither I nor they know the identities of those they compete against," she explained. "You see, the tournament is not for the men, but for the Nighean and therefore it she who they fight for. If they knew the identity of their rivals, it would disrupt the integrity of the competition."

"Why can't you know who they are? You saw them all at the feast last night," Rickon countered and she nodded.

"Yes but it is not up to me to choose a man based on the features of his face. There is no competition for most handsome warrior," she joked. "This way, I will choose a warrior based on his worthiness."

"But you don't want to choose one of these men, do you?" Rickon asked her, his eyes downcast and Broden nudged him.

"That is enough Rick," Broden said sternly and Fallon furrowed her brow at her brother's reaction.

"It's a fine question, Broden, don't scold the boy for asking out of curiosity," she replied but Broden did not answer. "They do not frighten you do they, Rick?" she asked, looking at the boy who now fidgeting slightly in his seat.

"No," he replied confidently. "At least, not anymore," he explained. "When Enat first brought us to Skane, I was frightened of this place. It's different than the North."

"But not so different here?" she asked and he nodded. "Our Skagos was once like Skane, but not for hundreds of years," she reminded him.

Rickon had taken to Skagos easily, she thought. The sight of the men had once frightened him and in the first few months she would awake to his frightened cries in the middle of the night. He'd recount the horrible things he had seen on the island, Bricriu's land.

While the boys had been treated well, they still witnessed old customs that most Skagosi had long abandoned, traditions of blood sacrifice and the rare occasion of men eating men, things that were now considered savage. The barbaric ways were rejected but the lords did not seek to disrupt Bricriu's men so long as they did not bring their customs to the mainland.

Broden had taken Rickon under his wing, once they'd come back to Kingshouse. Rickon went everywhere with him and soon his fear of the strange land and it's people came to fade. She had not thought of what real Skagosi men might seem like to child not raised here. To her, they were her people. To Rickon, they must have seemed like strangers, their harsh ways and their harsh language frightening to a child.

But now, he seemed to embrace it. And when Rickon spoke the Old Tongue and sparred with boys from the local village, Fallon could have sworn he was Skagosi bred.

Her thoughts were soon interrupted by her father rising from his chair. The crowd of men, competitors and spectators cheered for their former Magnar. But he silenced them with a smile and the raise of his hand.

Fallon looked out over the fields from her seat at Broden's side and she felt her stomach begin to twist nervously as she took in the amount of figures that looked up towards her. The platform was elaborately decorated with spring flowers and green silks with the Magnar sigil. She had not seen so many people at Kingshouse since the last winter games her father had hosted, nearly five years prior. The fact that so many people had come to see her choose a husband was unnerving at best.

Each man was hidden behind their mask and their Skagosi armor and she could not help but notice how large they all seemed. Skagosi men were often bigger, stronger as if they'd all been bred from the Greatjon Umber's lot. She wondered if her husband would be one of these brutes and suddenly found herself thinking of gentle hands under calloused fingers. Hands that belonged to a Northman whose touch made her hands tremble.

Rickon shook her arm lightly to get her attention and her father's booming voice was in her ears once more.

"It was on a day, much like this one in fact, that I called the small council to Kingshouse to discuss which of my beautiful daughters was destined to become the Nighean. It was Fallon's twelfth name day when I announced my decision. Many were not sure if she was worthy," Drystan said and he looked back over his shoulder at her with loving eyes. "But I told them there was none more deserving, more destined to be the Nighean, than my Fallon."

The crowd cheered.

"I watched her, since she was wee babe in my arms, and I knew there was something special about her. When she became the Nighean she took on more responsibility than a young girl should. She was wise like her mother, strong like her brothers, and beautiful-not unlike her sisters. Unfortunately she was also stubborn, like her father," he said, pointing to himself.

At this Fallon could not help but laugh with the others as she felt her throat swell slightly.

"I told her that love was a waste for a Skagosi warrior. The Nighean has a duty to her men, I explained. Not one man, but all." It was true, she remembered the day he told her those words. "And it was Fallon who taught me, that I was wrong."

Fallon was surprised by his words, confused even, when he admitted that his years of teachings had been misguided. He had always taught her to guard her heart and she had failed at that already in her young years. But he seemed proud of that failure.

"I am hard pressed to give her up, men," he announced to the crowd. "But I know that the man who can claim her heart is the worthiest of all men."

He motioned towards her then, reaching out his hand towards her which she took, standing for all the men to see as they stared up at her in awe. She knew Enat's skills had been well received as Fallon stood there in that dress and men smiled. Her father held up her hand and looked down at her and she knew he could see the uncertainty in her eyes.

He leaned down towards her ear and whispered, "You are the Nighean, Fallon Magnar. You may not be by mine own blood, but you will always be my daughter. And King's blood still runs through your veins. Never doubt your worth."

He had only mentioned Fallon's true birth once before and never before had he acknowledged her descent was of the Stag King. But somehow, it helped to ease the anxiety she felt in her stomach and the doubts she had in her heart. She had always felt like a failure because she did not have the blood of Magnar kings. But king's blood did run through her, and she was worthy, her father had said. Perhaps it was true enough.

"We have come here, this day, to witness the fight for this woman, your Nighean," he said looking back down at the crowd, his voice loud and powerful. "She has fought for you men, and now it is time you fight for her. Only one man is worthy of her," he spoke, the old words that were tradition but Fallon looked up as he deviated slightly, but no one seemed to notice. "May he and only he prevail!"

There was a loud cheer across the fields and each man shouted out her name three times in excitement and Fallon could feel the heat on her cheeks as the realization came over her that this was happening, all of this for her, was happening and it could no longer be stopped.

She felt trapped in a way, trapped in a web of duty and honor and all she could think of was Robb and how she wished she had never left him. She wished she had done something, fought harder to stay. Anything that would have kept her from this moment. But now she realized, there was no turning back.

With each day the dread inside of her grew. Each competition narrowed down the masses of the men competing for her until there were so few that the reality began to set in. As each day passed she knew that she would soon have to choose the final game, and thus, her husband.

She sat on the platform, her back straight and her hand tapping at the arm of the chair anxiously. Her composure seemed to be waning with each passing competition. It was Broden who grabbed her hand during the fifth day when her fingers were nearly bruised from the increased drumming on the chair's arm.

He looked at her curiously and she tried to mirror his composure but knew under his gaze she was failing to do so.

The great race was the longest event, it took place at dawn from the edge of the great mountain, to the fields of Kingshouse. It was a good thirty miles from either point and Fallon had been waiting for nearly two hours for the fastest eight to arrive and end the event.

It had been a fairly quiet morning, but Fallon was required to be at the starting point to provide motivation for the remaining twenty men who had made it to the fifth day. Spring showers ravished the countryside and she stood in the rain with them, despite Broden's protests.

The rain went on into the morning and the festival went on regardless of the weather. Albertha had arrived with her husband and now two year-old son, and she and Fallon spent their waiting hours dancing in the rain with what joy they could muster. Her sister had not been home for many years but as she and Fallon synced their steps, it was as if they were girls again and neither had ever left.

It had been so long, since Fallon had danced, she recalled, holding onto her sisters hands as they spun around and around until both of them were dizzy and full of laughter. She and Enat had even taken the opportunity to teach Garlan several of the Skagosi traditional dances, which he took to like the natural he was.

The sun peeked through only once, behind the dark and ominous clouds above, in the early hours of the morning. She could feel the warmth of it's rays amongst the rain on her skin as she closed her eyes. Through the mist, she could see the mountains reaching up towards the skies. Kingshouse was tall, behind her, a fierce building that had stood since the old days. The fire that had destroyed part of the south tower had been partially rebuilt and made the old keep look more unyielding than before.

The waiting continued until she heard the sound of cheers near the platform where she was meant to be seated and spun around quickly, pausing her dance, to see the first winner of the long race. But when she turned, she saw the cheers were not for the runners, but for the man who now stood waving out at the crowd with a large smile.

"Rowan," she whispered to herself, picking up her long skirts, another impressive dress crafted by Enat, and ran towards him.

She was grinning widely, so incredibly excited to see her brother that she could not contain her joy for the first time since the games had begun. His hair was long again, reaching his shoulders as it had before it was trimmed to look like Robb's. And his beard was thicker, a proper Skagosi beard of a man who was now married. He looked handsome in Magnar green, his vibrant eyes matching. When he spotted her running, his grin was even wider than before as he descended the steps and reached out for her as she jumped up into his arms.

"Dear sister," he said, holding her tightly against him as they embraced and she felt a sudden wave of emotion running over her as she heard his voice. "Has it really been so long?"

She nodded quickly. "Too long, brother."

"Come," he said, pulling back at arm's length and looking over her figure. "Let me see this pretty Nighean I've been hearing about."

He spun her once, laughing as she tried to straighten her gown which was soaked through.

"Enat deserves all the credit," she told him, smiling like an idiot. "If it weren't for her I would no doubt still be in my dressing robes."

"I don't think you'd find any of your warriors complaining," he teased and she felt quite at ease with their joking as if they hadn't been separated for so long. "I've heard they have been bleeding all week for you."

"They bleed too much for my liking," she admitted. "I daresay war has weakened my stomach. I am tired of blood being spilt for me."

"It would not be a proper competition for your hand if they did not bleed for you first," he replied jokingly.

She was about offer him her congratulations on his ascent into fatherhood when she took notice of a figure just over his shoulder, standing on the platform and her smile started to fade slightly. Rowan said something to her then but she didn't hear his words, only that he had spoken. Her attention was solely on the woman in the silver dress, holding a babe out towards Drystan.

"Fal?" Rowan said then, getting her attention. "Did you hear what I said?" She shook her head. "I asked how the games are-" He didn't finish before realizing what had caused her distraction.

"What is she doing here?" Fallon questioned, making eye contact with her brother as her previous smile was now reversed into a deep frown.

"I wanted to tell you-"

"I don't-I don't understand?" she said, her voice rising and the girl in the silver dress, who was still very much a girl in Fallon's eyes, was now looking at her with an apologetic expression. "How is this even possible?"

"Fallon," the girl said as she approached, her voice low and composed as she grabbed hold of Rowan's arm with her own. "You look breathtaking," the girl told her but Fallon could not get past this intimate position between the two, the newborn child that her father was now holding.

"What's going on, Rowan?" Fallon questioned then.

"Roslin and I are married," Rowan explained.

It didn't make sense.

"But you're the Queen, Roslin," Fallon said, laughing as if they were both lying, as if it was all some cruel joke. "You are married to Robb."

"Fallon," they both said at once and she took a step back, shaking her head.

"You are married to Robb aren't you?"

Roslin shook her head sadly. "I'm sorry no one told you," she said quietly. Roslin had never been an outspoken girl and it seemed time had not changed all things. "It seems as though Rowan and I have been married this whole time, since before you left Casterly Rock even."

"What?!" Fallon said, aghast.

"Shh," Rowan hushed her. "Listen, I can explain."

"Go on then," she growled out, keeping her voice low. "Tell me why in Seven Hells she is standing here with your child when the last time I saw her, she was Queen in the North?"

"You have to understand, the wedding was not completely binding. The council spent months regarding the laws both of the Kingdoms and the old religion. The vows she said to me bound her to Robb by proxy. But my vows to her, by the Old Gods, bound me to her as her husband. By law, Roslin was married twice, to two men. And because she had yet to consummate either marriage, she was not bound."

"You and Robb never-" she started but trailed off at the end when Roslin blushed a bright shade of pink.

She looked at her brother for many moments. Looking back and forth between him and Roslin Frey who was now her sister. It didn't make sense. How had she been kept in the dark for so long? And who else knew, she wondered. Tens and then hundreds of questions starting running through her mind but only one thing was clear.

"Robb is not married," she whispered, almost to herself as she looked away.

The words washed over her quickly and she gathered the long train of her dress and started running of towards the castle. She did not know where she was going exactly, only that she needed to somehow get to Robb. She ignored the cheers and the shouts as the first of the runners came up the steep hill and she ran right in his path where the second runner then nearly stumbled over her. She did not hear him apologize, nor did she hear the shouts of her brothers' voices behind her.

She just ran.

She was not sure how long she ran before she felt arms around her shoulders, urging her to a halt and she spun around, not caring that her circlet fell from her head as she did so.

"Fallon, where are you going!" It was Broden who was shouted, Rowan standing just behind him. Both out of breath. "The warriors are arriving. They've been running for hours - for you!"

"I don't care," she growled, trying to shove him away but Rowan caught her from the other side. "I have to go to him."

"To who?" Broden asked but the guilt in Rowan's eyes was answer enough.

"It's too late," Rowan tried to explain but she shook her head. "Listen!" he said sternly. "I said it's too late."

"How can it be?" she pleaded. "Just let me go to him, he needs me."

"Don't do this to yourself, Fallon," Broden whispered. "The tournament is almost at an end and in two days-"

"You think I care about this bloody tournament?!" she shouted at her brothers. "I am only doing this because I thought I had no choice. Because you both made me believe that I had no other options." She watched as her brothers looked at each other briefly and then back to her. "How long have you known, Broden?" she asked him, feeling hurt that the relationship she had strengthened in the last two years with her older brother was now based on a lie. "How long have you know that Roslin is Rowan's bride?"

"It would not have changed anything," he said calmly and she felt the fury within her rise.

"Would not have changed anything? Broden it would have changed everything! I have to leave, before I make a mistake," she said turning and both Rowan and Broden stepped in her path.

"You cannot go," Rowan said quickly. "There is nothing to be done now."

The persistence in both of their voices caused her to stop pushing against them long enough to realize something she had previously missed. Rowan and written with news of his marriage over a year ago. If what Rowan had said was true, then Roslin and Robb had not been married for longer than that even. Why was she just now finding this out?

"Why did you not tell me?" she asked, her heartbeat quickening. "Does Robb know that I have not been told?"

"He was the one who asked that you not know, not at least until Rowan could explain in person," Broden told her and she shook her head in disbelief.

"But-" she stammered. "Why?"

Broden looked away this time and it was Rowan who answered, "He thought if you knew, that you would do exactly what you are doing now, abandoning your duty."

"My duty?!" she shouted. "My duty is not-"

But she did not finish as Rowan placed his hand over her mouth.

"Do you want to insult them?" Rowan whispered angrily, spinning her around so that she could see the victors who were being cheered for at the platform by the spectators. Eight men who would fight in combat tomorrow for her until there were only two. "These men are here for you, Fallon. This is all for you!"

"I did not ask for this," she countered, bitterly. "I did this out of obligation and now you tell me that the man I have wanted this whole time could have been mine? I might not have had to leave Casterly Rock?"

"I told you, it was not that simple," was Rowan's reply. He let go of her then as her shoulders slumped.

"He really did not want me to know?" Fallon asked her brothers, disappointment in her eyes and she could see that neither wanted to be the one to confirm her question. "So he did not want me there. With him." This time her question was a statement, said more to herself than either of them.

She did not want to accept what she could not understand. Here stood her brother, his new wife in tow who just happened to be the singular reason she had been banished from Robb's side two years ago. And now she was Rowan's, with a child. And Fallon was here, thousands of miles away from wherever her wolf was and she couldn't help but feel cheated.

"He wants the games to continue?" she questioned, straightening out her dress with her shaking fingertips and they both nodded slowly.

Rowan crouched down and picked up her forgotten circlet in the grass and then placed it back on her head, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear as he did so. Her eyes pleaded for his for more answers but it seemed as though there was nothing more to be said.

"He said," Broden started and Rowan looked up at him with a strange furrow of his brow, as if he might interrupt his brother but did not. "He told me, in his last letter that he wanted this for you. He believes it is the only way someone who is truly worthy can win you."

"Damnit Stark," she hissed angrily. Noble Robb Stark, she thought. "It seems as though I am the only person unable to decide that for myself then," she replied quietly, leaving them both behind as she made her way back towards her seat, where she was to do what was expected of her.

She sat up straight, smiled and clapped.

And did everything she could to keep herself from crying.

[Fallon]

The afternoon on the sixth day seemed to last forever, she thought as she sat there. It was unusually sunny and had not rained since the fourth morning of the games. Rickon sat there fanning her face as he talked about his training with Broden that morning. He was speaking in the Old Tongue, which made Fallon proud indeed.

It was in the after the fifth match of the day of sword to sword combat that another man was eliminated. Rickon had cringed at the sight of the man's blood in the mud, rain washing it down his arm and staining his doublet. Rick did not understand the brutality of Skagosi combat. A man did not simply yield to his competitor. He begged for defeat and gave up all claim on victory. It was difficult for Skagosi to admit defeat, which was why they fought so passionately. To beg for defeat was to admit unworthiness. Blood was the price to pay for defeat, which is why every one of these warriors had bled for her.

Once again she felt the muscles in the pit of her stomach twist. There was only one fight left before the final competition tomorrow. This fight would decide which of the final three contenders was to be eliminated. The two left would fight in the competition of her choice on the seventh day.

She had named the game, half-heartedly picking hand to hand combat when she could not think of anything else. The first contender for tomorrow's fight had already been decided. A tall, broad man with a fighting style that was clearly from the Northern shore. She did not know if her uncle, Lord Stane, had any of his men fighting in the games, but it seemed by their quick steps and brute force like the kind of men her uncle commanded.

The man was vicious, unyielding with the longsword and she could not help but be impressed by his ability to bend the other men to his will. She remembered him during the climb three days prior. She remembered his tattooed skin and the scars on his arms. He was most assuredly a warrior and he had seen battle many times over.

The battle in front of her was between two men she had yet to see in the games. She had not cared to distinguish them before, bored and distracted as the days became longer and her patience shorter. She fiddled slightly with the ring on her third finger as Broden announced the terms of their fight.

She pulled it off and on, feeling the weight of the metal object in her hand as she looked over the designs, smiling a the memory of each of her siblings and then finally the grey stone in the center. It was strange, she thought, that Broden had chosen the grey stone rather than the green for her ring. Most of the previous Nighean's had a green stone to represent their house. But grey was their color too and she thought, perhaps, Broden wanted hers to stand out on her hand.

She missed the cue for the fight to begin, and jumped at the sound of metal on metal as the swords clanged together. Both men were tall in stature though one moved with quicker steps then the other. The first man was bigger in his build, his armor was poorly fitted on his broad shoulders. But his quick steps allowed him to escape the quick jabs by the second man.

The second was not quite as broad, but Fallon was surprised by his strength. Each blow to the first fighter was calculated and forceful and each time, the larger man would recoil back and lose his balance slightly.

The rain made it hard to see much else besides their general motions and Fallon could only base the quality of the fight by the sound of the crowd that was closest to the field. Rickon was cheering for the smaller of the two, for no reason other than he liked the man's armor and had placed second in the archery tournament.

He was now in the mud, under the larger man and Fallon could not help but pity the stranger who would soon beg for mercy. Before long he would bleed for her and offer his defeat, she thought. But seconds turned into minutes as the smaller of the two held off the great brute, and soon, Fallon watched as he broke from the man's hold and leapt back to his feet.

Something was alight within the man as he swung his sword with even more force than before. She found it inspiring, but strange to watch this man fight. It was the first time she had really taken any notice in any of the warriors aside from the tattooed man. There was something strange about his steps she thought, about the flow of his movements. His swing was sharp and his steps purposeful.

It was foreign, she thought, and yet oddly familiar.

Soon, it was as if the roles had reversed and the larger man was now on the ground beneath the smaller whose sword was now against the brute's throat. There were gasps as they sat there, struggling for strength, waiting for a way to overpower the other.

It was as the smaller man sat there that she took note of his armor as Rickon had, the patterns were intricate and fine, indicating he was most likely higher born. It would explain his fighting style, she thought to herself, looking over the two as they pushed against one another with equal force. It was then that she saw something flash on the smaller man's belt. It was tattered and faded slightly, but she recognized the familiar piece of fabric and she stood suddenly, causing her brothers to look at her strangely.

Her pace quickened as she approached the railing, watching the man with the aged fabric sticking out of his belt and she noticed him move flip his sword once in his hand, skillfully and her breath quickened. She knew then what was tucked in the man's belt, just as she knew where he had learned that move that was now causing the large brute to cry out and concede. She thought she heard her name, behind her. Perhaps it was Broden, or her father. Whoever it was, she did not reply as she watched the large man beg for defeat and then sliced the palm of his hand enough to draw the red liquid that ended the fight.

Relief, she realized, was the emotion causing her hands to shake as she looked down at the masked figure now looking up, his chest heaving from a match well fought. She could not see his eyes through the rain, but she did not need to. She knew they were blue, like the sea in the summer and she knew that her green ribbon was tied to his belt.

"Warrior!" Broden shouted out over the roar of the storm and Fallon jumped slightly, seeing him standing on her right for the first time. "My sister and I congratulate you on your victory."

Her father stood then and walked over to her left side and held her trembling hand in his. He motioned for the tattooed warrior to stand next to the newest victor and Broden continued to speak. She could hardly concentrate on his voice. Her head was spinning.

"Tomorrow, you will partake in the final competition," Broden continued. "The Nighean has chosen the game for you, and it is to be-"

"The Joust!" she shouted and everyone looked towards her with confused expressions. She did not take her eyes from the masked figure below her as she spoke. Broden reached over to her and pulled her back from the rail.

"Fallon, what are you doing?" he whispered and she pulled her arm from his grasp. "You cannot change the competition like this."

"It is my game, is it not?" she asked defiantly, look at both her father and both of her brothers.

"But it's not tradition, lass," her father explained and she shook her head.

"Nor am I," she reminded him and he smiled.

"You heard your Nighean, boy," Drystan told Broden who only frowned in reply.

"And where do you propose we get the equipment? What if they do not know the joust?" Broden asked her then and she looked back out at the two warriors below.

"Warriors," she projected, her voice loud above the rain. Here, they all spoke in the Old Tongue, but she spoke slowly. Just in case she was misunderstood. "I spent a great deal of time on the mainland and I became very fond of the joust." It was a lie. She had never been fond of the joust. But she could not take the chance of choosing hand to hand combat. "To honor my time there, I would choose a game worthy of the bravest of men. Will you joust for me?" she asked.

She was nervous, she could feel it rising from her stomach and she looked not to the man with her ribbon on her hip, but to the tattooed man. She had hoped, perhaps, that maybe he would say no. But to her surprise, both men agreed to her task.

"Garlan," she said, turning to her friend who looked confused by the spectacle she was making. While he knew some of the Old Tongue, she knew her outburst would have been slightly overwhelming for him. "Do you have the jousting equipment?"

"Of course, Fallon," he said. He had been trying to teach the Skagosi at Kingshouse to joust since his arrival. It was his favorite sport, after all. "But do you really think this is best?"

She did not reply, only looked back over the crowd and did her best to smile though she could not help but feel terrified about what she might potentially be doing. What if she was seeing things, she thought. What if she was wrong?

"Well brother," she said, her voice shaking slightly. "It looks as though, tommorrow, these men will joust for their prize."

She had not spoken to Enat since she rose that morning.

The seventh day, started just like the sixth and the fifth before that. Enat prepared a bath for her, one so hot that Fallon had nearly lost her breath as she engulfed herself in it. She did not dare tell Enat what she had seen for fear that the girl would think she were imagining things. That's what Fallon feared most, the possibility that she had imagined up this elaborate image of that man on the field. Aside from the ragged green fabric on his belt and the sword move that she had learned from Keeran years ago, she had nothing but the feeling in her gut and the hope in her heart.

Her dress was different from the others. Tradition called for the Nighean to wear traditional Skagosi garb on the seventh day. She did not feel entirely comfortable in the trousers that were tight over her legs and hips nor did she enjoy the revealing leather top piece that was more difficult to put on than she'd imagined. It seemed like time would never end as Enat tied up the leather bindings over around her breasts and over her shoulders several times until at last Fallon felt her tie it near the middle of her back.

The rest of her was painted in delicate patterns of black and green paints. It took four girls to complete the patterns on the flesh that was revealed. Enat left her face mostly unpainted, much to Fallon's relief.

Once the ladies were dismissed, Enat kissed both of her cheeks and smiled. Fallon mustered up a halfhearted smile in return, but her heart was pounding too quickly for her to concentrate on much else but what was outside that room. Enat then handed her the ring her brother had presented her with and looked over her one last time.

"You are truly, beautiful, my friend," she whispered and Fallon grabbed her hand quickly when the girl tried to leave.

"I am scared," Fallon asked, her voice soft and Enat grinned wider.

"I have never heard you say such a thing," the older girl joked. She took Fallon's hands in hers and gripped them tightly. "You are the brave Fallon Magnar, and I know whatever fate lies for you out there, that you will embrace it and make it yours. I am so proud of you."

"My brothers think I am foolish," Fallon told her. "For choosing the joust."

"Not foolish, Fallon. I think everyone is just surprised. But I daresay Garlan has never been more excited since he's arrived."

"Do you think I will be happy? With the outcome?" she asked then, looking down at the ring in her palm and flipping it several times, nervously.

"I think, love, that no matter which man wins today, you will find a way to be happy again."

Enat then left Fallon to mull over her cryptic response. She stood alone in the room, the ring in her hand on her fear weighing on her heart. She would be alone until the game was ready to begin. Until Broden would come and fetch her. She paced the room for what seemed like an hour, playing with the ring in her hand before she could stand no longer and she sat down. She found herself looking over the bit of metal's design as she had a thousand times the night before when she lie awake until the sun rose that morning. But this time, as she looked at the rings interior, she noticed something she had previously missed.

It was small, almost insignificant if she hadn't been staring at it for several moments. But the longer she looked, the clearer the small engraving became. The silver metal was engraved, inside, with the shape of an animal. As she spun it back around, she could see very clearly that it was a wolf.

"Are you ready?" she heard and looked up to see Rowan, not Broden, ready to escort her to the field.

She nodded slowly, looking once more at the wolf engraving before slipping it back onto her finger and standing to join him. He looked over her outfit with an amused grin which soothed her nerves for a moment before they stepped back out on the platform.

In front of her was a jousting field, something she had only seen in the Stormlands during Renly's celebration and she began to remember how much she had hated the bloody sport. Rowan brought her around in front of the crowd, positioning her next to Broden and the people cheered as they saw her in the traditional clothing worn by so many before her.

In front of the crowd, stood both of her warriors. They wore knights armor instead of Skagosi garb and instead of masks, their faces were hidden by their helmets. The afternoon sun shone off of their armor and she could see, clearly now in the light of day, that the fabric now worn around the arm of one of the men was her green ribbon.

And her heart leapt.

Broden looked at her then and nodded for her to speak. But several moments passed when she could not find her voice nor the words she was meant to say. She saw the ribbon, as she saw the field. And she knew at once that this game would only have one champion. And that champion would be hers.

"I Fallon," she began, her voice trembling at first but she cleared her throat to stabilize it. "I Fallon, sixth child of Drystan Magnar, sister to Lord Broden - the Magnar, and Nighean of Skagos, am honored to stand before you, my people, and you-," she said then motioning towards the men below. "-my warriors. I have chosen this game for you today, to let you now decide which of you is most worthy of my hand, but most importantly my heart. Gods be with you."

Each of them bowed to her, first the tattooed man and then second, the man with her favor and she wondered how she had gone so many days without recognizing him before. It was so easy to see him now, his movements gave him away even though his face was covered and she suddenly felt self-conscious beneath his hidden gaze.

She was reluctant to sit down then, finding every step she took away from him unnerving but Broden's hand was tight around hers as he lead her to their respective seats and the warriors mounted their horses with ease.

"Are you alright?" Broden whispered to him then and she looked at him with eyes so full of hope that she could have sworn she saw the same mirrored back in his own.

She did not reply, only watched as the men were suited with their shield and then finally their lance. Both seemed to know exactly what they were doing but it was obvious in their contrasting stature which had grown up practicing the sport and which had not.

Perhaps he was one of Garlan's trainees, she thought of the tattooed man, wondering how he would have come across jousting without learning from the mainland. It did not matter, she thought. It was for the best if the man was not well-versed in the game though even the thought made her stomach churn as she thought of the dangers the game would possess.

Each man took their place and it was Garlan who stood on the field, waiting for the warriors to signal their readiness before he gave leave for the first joust to begin. The horses were strangely calm and Fallon nervously spun her ring over her finger as she watched each man wave their hand to Garlan.

And then the flag was dropped.

The crowd went wild at the sport that was so new to many of them. Most of them had probably heard stories, but it was likely this was the first time most of them were seeing an actual jousting competition play out before their eyes. And when the first blow was made, the first lance broke but both riders stayed atop their stallions.

It was one point for the North, she thought.

"You realize what could happen," Broden informed and Fallon frowned, not wishing to hear her brother's misgivings that only distracted her from the riders who were now handed a new lance. As Garlan continued to explain the rules to the crowd, Broden lowered his voice. "One of them could die. This game is too unpredictable."

"Broden for once, please just trust me," she pleaded with him and she could see he was reluctant. If it were up to him, the final game would still be hand to hand combat.

But this time it was not up to him.

The second round came quicker than the first and neither lance broke. They both were considered glancing blows, leaving the score still in the Northman's favor. The third round went to the Skagosi, two points for a lance to the helmet and the fourth round tied the score as the Northman's lance broke on the other man's shoulder.

"They are tiring," Rickon whispered. "It won't be long before one of the warriors falls."

She could sit no longer, she decided, as the men prepared for the fifth round and she stood with her arms on the beam, waiting anxiously for her fate to be decided. As Garlan lowered the flag and they charged at one another, she closed her eyes, unable to see the outcome as she whispered an old prayer to the gods. This time it was not a prayer for selflessness. This time she begged for her desired outcome, a purely selfish request but she could deny her heart no longer. And as she heard the crowd shout out wildly as a lance collided with armor, she knew she'd have to open her eyes and face what hand she was dealt.

The first thing she saw was a man on the ground and in the confusion, she did not know which it was. But soon the other warrior, the one still seated atop his stallion, trotted over and dismounted by the fallen man's side. When he reached his arm out, she saw the green ribbon, barely hanging on and he pulled the man to his feet.

They stood there for several moments, the crowd silenced as they awaited their reactions. And Fallon gasped as the fallen warrior took out his blade and showed it to the Northman, removing his gauntlet and pulling the blade over his flesh and displaying his offering to the crowd and then to her.

And the game was won.

She wanted to smile then, wanted to show her champion that she knew whose eyes lie behind that helmet. But she was soon interrupted by the recently defeated man, climbing up the side of the platform and pulling his helmet off.

The crowd gasped, as did she. It was against tradition for any of the defeated men to show their faces to the Nighean, but it was not that action that caused the uproar of her people below. It was his face, and the scars upon it that many of them knew well enough.

"Bricriu," she whispered to the man who stood in front of her.

He was a tall man, easily towering over her with his one ice-colored eye staring down at her and she realized she had never seen him this close before. She could see every scar that he donned, the mangled flesh over his left eye that he was infamous for. Under his armor his tribal tattoos were visible, and she could now see very easily that they were ancient symbols worn only by warriors of Skane.

To his men he was a king.

"My Nighean," he said with a sly grin, his accent thicker than the men in the Southern part of the island. His bow was untrained and outwardly pretentious, but he meant it with the utmost respect, which surprised her.

Broden was quick to stand, as was Rowan but she held her hand for them to stay where they were, all the while keeping her eyes on Bricriu.

She placed her hand in the man's outstretched one and she took note of his ragged doublet peeking out from beneath the metal suit, which was no doubt his finest article of clothing. She couldn't help but think he was once a handsome man, many years ago before he had seen so much violence. Underneath the weathered skin, the scarred flesh of his battle wounds she could see a warrior who had fought his whole life. His one eye, piercing grey in color contrasted his relaxed smile. He took her hand and placed it over his chest and bowed his head lightly.

"I am deeply honored to have fought for you," he said, his voice loud above the others. "I'd have not conceded to any man less worthy," he said. "I always said if I fought a Northman tha' I would never accept defeat. But I was not fightin' just any Northman was I?"

Her small smiled revealed that he was right in his assumption and he laughed heartily.

"I would have made you a good husband, Fallon Magnar," he whispered and she felt her cheeks grow hot. "But I will settle for you as my Queen. If you bow to him, so will I."

And with that he kissed the side of her mouth with his chapped lips and then climbed back down where she saw several of his men were there to greet him. There she was left, looking down now at her champion and she could have sworn time stood still.

No one seemed to move, nor did they speak, as she descended the steps slowly. With each step she could feel her throat tightening. She was frightened to look up, for fear that it would not be real, that all of her hope would have been for naught. Her heart pounded as she walked across the field, her boots now covered in mud and she stopped when she was standing just before her Northman champion.

"My Champion," she announced, keeping her voice as steady as was possible. "Bricriu says you are a Northman and not of our home. And yet you come from the mainland to fight for the Nighean, for me." She circled him then, as if appraising him like a steed for purchase. "You have defeated over a hundred of my best warriors in competitions that have been fought by Skagosi for centuries, dating back to the first men and the first Magnar."

After circling him once more she stopped in front of him, within arm's reach and it took everything in her not to touch him.

"As it happens, you are not the first Northman to claim the hand of the Nighean," she said loudly enough and whispers were heard throughout the crowd of people surrounding them. She glanced up to her family, who was now standing and watching her with heads high and smiles on their faces. "During the Age of Heroes, the first King of Winter came to Skagos and competed for the Magnar's daughter. Brandon the Builder, the founder of House Stark, won her hand and made her his queen. Not since then has a Northman been brave enough to fight her Skagosi warriors for the right to her heart. Until now, it seems."

Not many people knew this story. In fact, Fallon had not even known the story until she became a ward of Winterfell. In her first few months among the Starks she had spent a great deal of time in her rooms, located in Library Tower once occupied by Eddard's dear sister. There were hundreds of books and she remembered pulling one down and reading the history of the North's kings. And there she had seen the name, 'Genovefa of the Magnar.' She had never told Robb, even when he joked about a King of Winter marrying a Nighean, for fear that he might forsake his duties. And now here he was, ensuring that she did not forsake hers.

"Name yourself, warrior, so that I might know which man of the North lays claim to my hand," she said and she could tell that the end of her words were not as steady as the first.

He stood there for several moments without moving and she wondered if perhaps she and Bricriu had been mistaken. But as he reached up to his helmet, her green ribbon dangling from his armor, and then revealed his face she felt her heart skip and the people around whispered at her immediate reaction. It was a small cry that grew from her throat and she fell to her knee, keeping her eyes locked on his.

"It is the King in the North," someone shouted, realizing why she knelt before him and the whispers grew until the crowd was erupting in revelation, falling to their knees to mirror their Nighean.

But she did not see them. She only saw Robb.

He reached out his hand to her and she took it without hesitation. He pulled her to her feet and she could see the weariness in his eyes from the seven days he had been through to get to her. And then, it was he who dropped to the ground, his knees in the mud. She could not remember a time when she had looked down at this man, a time when he was the one craning his neck to see her. Her people, still kneeling, were shocked by the King's stance.

"My Lady," he said loudly, his accent more refined than she'd last heard it in the Old Tongue. "My Love. I have come here and I fought not to claim you, but for the honor to be claimed by you. I will never be worthy of you, I know that now. But I promise to never stop striving to be a man worthy, for the rest of my days. Gods know that each of these men has bled for you," he told her, pulling his dagger from his boot and she looked at him wide-eyed. He then dragged the blade over his palm until red liquid fell at her feet. "Now I, Robb Stark, King in the North and the Trident, bleed for you. And I ask you, Fallon - Nighean of the Magnar - to be my wife and my Queen."

She did not know she was crying until she felt his fingers wipe the hot tears from her face. All her life she had felt unworthy until now. She pulled him up, and placed her hand on his face, his beard against her palm.

"Mo Faol, no man is more worthy. I am yours," she whispered and he did not waste another moment before pulling her towards him and pushing his lips against hers.

The crowd was cheering excitedly, shouting her name, and Robb's name as they embraced and she was engulfed in that moment. Robb had not abandoned her but had fought for her so they both could keep their honor. Her family had kept this secret so that Robb could compete and thank the gods he'd been victorious.

He pulled back, kissing her cheek and then her neck and lifting her into the air, and her cheeks began to ache from her wide smile. Her hair fell down over his shoulders as he lowered her down, her arms resting around his neck.

"It seems, My Lady, that you have finally seen me joust," he whispered to her, kissing the soft skin beneath her ear and she laughed.

"Yes, so it seems," she replied. "And what would you have done, Mo Faol, if Bricriu had been the one to knock your from your horse instead?"

He laughed as he pushed her hair from her face, taking in the sight of all of her just as she did him. She let her fingers run through his auburn curls and admired the way the sunlight danced over them.

"I'd have stolen you away, and discarded all of my honor, rather than leave you again," he admitted.

"The King in the North, discard his honor?" she whispered. "Not on my watch."

She had almost forgotten the way his calloused hands felt on her skin.

"Looks as though you'll get to see me in that Skagosi wedding gown after all," she said with a grin, reminding him of the words he'd said to her some years ago in the Wolfswood.

"Yes, my sweet bride, and I plan on making many more of those stories become true memories, as soon as I possible."

She did not know if she had ever been happier in that moment, in the arms of the man she loved and surrounded by the people who embraced her as their own. She did not know if there would ever be a happier memory, but she knew with Robb Stark, she would never find herself lacking in them. In ten, twenty, thirty years and so forth, she knew her love for him would never fade. And no matter the dangers they faced, they would face them together.

As it should be.

A/N: I know that was insanely long, and I apologize for that. I got a little excited writing and didn't stop until I had already finished. Hopefully you enjoyed it despite the length. It was a bitter-sweet chapter for me because the epilogue will be my final goodbye to Fallon and Robb. I just want to briefly thank everyone who has been such an inspiration to me during this process - that's all of you readers, followers, favoriters and most especially reviewers. I plan to name you all in the Epilogue. 'Thank you' will never suffice but since I am at a loss here….THANK YOU. This story is for all of you. xoLola