Savages - LolaStark

Chapter Three

KATHRYN

It was another day, just like every other day.

She felt as though she was counting days in a prison cell as they passed slowly. Her days were listless, full of endless dull activities. She often excused herself to bed directly after their meals in the evenings with hopes of avoiding any unwanted interaction with these people she was beginning to despise.

She often wondered if her father ever loved her at all to leave her up in the freezing wasteland that was the North.

The Stark name might have been noble in its legacy, but these people hardly knew anything about highborn lifestyle. Lord Stark was of a noble sort, always asking after her health and if she was pleased with her new lifestyle in the North. Kathryn wasn't daft. She wouldn't reveal her distaste for the weather or the food or most specifically the company the family kept. He was the Warden of the North, after all. And despite the fact that Ned Stark was a second son, not born or bred to be in such a prominent position, Kathryn knew her place. Even if she believed herself their betters, the King was very fond of this family. And she knew better than to go against the King.

When she'd first arrived, the adjustment had been difficult. She had a hard time not spouting off about the chill in the air or the dampness of her room. These people didn't know how to cook food, dress to any sort of occasion, or even draw a bath properly in her opinion. But as the days wore on, it was becoming quite clear that her complaints were only a source of amusement for later conversation when she wasn't around. They laughed at her and she would not bear the humiliation.

So she had decided to bide her time, keep her chin up until she became Lady of Winterfell. Then there would be some changes.

Even now as the servants were busy running around, making last minute adjustments for the King and his caravan who would be arriving later that morning, she could think of a hundred things that would be an improvement to the decor, to the menu, and most especially to the way the family presented themselves in what seemed like rags compared to her fine silks.

Kathryn refused to be part of it all. If her opinions weren't to be heard, then she wasn't going to lift a finger. She had been stuck up in her room all morning having her maids work on her dresses for the King's visit. She didn't care if the Starks wanted to be humble. This was the king and, for him, she'd look her absolute best.

Now she was sitting in the Great Keep watching as tables were set and floors were swept. She would have been outside had it not been for Lord Stark's instructions that they all stay indoors until they caravan was spotted. She she sat in the fur-lined chair, her back straight as she watched the commotion.

She nearly groaned when she saw Fallon lifting Bran on her shoulders to dust the large hearth near the front of the hall. Fallon, despite her fallen status, could never help herself. She always had to involve herself where she wasn't needed. Kathryn's feelings towards the savage were very clear from the moment they'd met. Even the day she'd greeted each member of the Stark family she'd noticed there was something about Fallon that she did not care for. Her sister had called it jealousy, but Kathryn found there was nothing worth being jealous of when it came to Fallon Magnar.

The skagg was a year older, but Kathryn knew that her training as a noblewoman would have been nowhere near as extensive as one in the South. Skagos was well known for its backwards ways and Fallon's lack of breeding was evident in nearly all that she did. She was always out of place or awkwardly trying to keep up though it was clear she had no interest in fitting in. It wouldn't matter, Kathryn reminded herself. Fallon would end up an old maid with her family's tarnished name and savage culture hanging over her for the rest of her days.

To Kathryn, the girl wasn't a threat. She wasn't blind to Robb's glances, however. She had seen the way he looked at Fallon, the way he smiled when she spoke or the way he'd linger around the library when she was passing the time reading. It didn't matter. Kathryn would be Robb's wife, and Kathryn would be the Lady of Winterfell. And then Fallon would be nothing more than a brief memory of his adolescence.

"Milady Kathryn," she heard, forcing her to return herself to the reality of the misery in which she was caged. She looked to her left where one of the servants was standing with a letter in his hand.

"For me?" she asked and he shook his head.

"Oh, no beggin' yer pardon madam, but I was hoping you could tell me where Lady Fallon is? This letter were addressed to her," he told her and she rolled her eyes at his atrocious use of the common tongue. She held her hand out.

"I will make sure she gets it presently," she offered, boredly, sitting up as the man bowed and handed her the parchment.

She flipped it through her fingers several times as she waited for the girl to return to the hall, looking at the script until something caught her eye.

It had come from Skagos and the writer's handwriting was atrocious. The parchment not of very good quality. She'd heard several times that Fallon never received any letters over the last several months. Only her maid, Enat, was brought letters, leaving Fallon with only secondhand word from some skagg Kathryn didn't know the name of. But this was clearly addressed to Fallon. Lady Fallon Magnar it said and she nearly laughed.

Fallon was no more a lady than Arya. They would all get a great show during the King's visit when they realize just how barbaric the girl really was. It was only a matter of time. But the letter could prove to be useful, she thought.

Kathryn's mother had taught her that the key to a Lady's power was information. She realized then that perhaps Fallon would prove useful, yet.

ROBB

"That great brute of yours didn't do a very fine job of cleaning up your face, Stark," Fallon tsked with a small grin, lathering his face with a cream that was soothing on the small cut on his lower chin.

The shave wasn't as close as he'd hoped and his mother would be none too happy to see his unkempt stubble. Which was why he was currently sitting in Fallon's rooms with her blade in a very precarious position against his throat.

"If you'd have come to me in the first place-as I told you My Lord-you'd have a face as smooth as a babe's backside right about now," she reminded him. "Just how dull was his blade?"

"Yes, you were right, My Lady. How many times will you have me say it?" he laughed, his arms crossed over his chest as she leaned over him, her fingers placed lightly under his chin, steadying his head.

"As many times until I'm satisfied I suppose," she replied distractedly, running the blade over his skin slowly and carefully.

Her dark hair hung low, grazing over his hands as she leaned over. He tried to ignore the soft tingle in his hand as it brushed over him. He could smell the faint scent of the winter roses that grew in the godswood. He had watched as Fallon would pick the flowers herself from the base of the weirwood tree after her morning prayers. Enat would grind them down into the oils Fallon used for her bath.

He wasn't sure what to say as he sat there, Fallon working diligently on his shave. He liked moments like these, even if they weren't speaking. Being near her seemed to satisfy his curiosity well enough. As time passed his intrigue grew and he began to realize that soon their silence might not quell the desire he had to know her.

Ever since the night in the godswood, as she whispered her thoughts to Jon, he'd been very keen on hearing the things she had to say. He still remembered her words in his mind, never sure of a good moment to bring them up again. They had been civil, friendly even, in the last few weeks and he had no desire to trade that for an argument.

But as they sat there in silence, he couldn't help but speak his mind.

"I know you may think I am ashamed of my brother. But you should know, I am not," he whispered, careful not to sound as offended as had been when he'd first heard her say the words. He felt her blade slow to a stop for only a moment before she continued. She'd heard him but didn't respond. "I know you meant me to hear you, when you said those words to Jon."

"I shouldn't have said that," she answered stiffly, sounding as if she too had been wishing for a way to bring up the words she'd spoken that night. But she also seemed relieved that he'd been the one to do it and when he glanced upwards he noticed the embarrassment in her eyes. "It wasn't my place to say such things, especially when I hardly knew your family at the time."

"You have every right to speak your mind," Robb started.

"Not about your family," she countered, shaking her head. "I made assumptions about your life that were not my place to make. I'm your father's ward. It's not my business to say how you treat your family, nor to refute your customs even if they are different than my own."

"You should know that I've treated him as a brother my whole life. He is my best friend," Robb told her and as she finished she placed the blade in the water pail and took a towel in her hands. She walked around to face him as he stood and for the first time since he'd arrived in her rooms, their eyes met.

"I know that now," she whispered assuringly and even attempted a small smile as she placed the towel on his face, slowly wiping away the excess soap.

She was concentrating, so he wasn't sure if she noticed his watchful gaze, how he took in her features curiously. She was much smaller than him and he enjoyed watching her frustration when she had to strain her neck to look up at him as she did in that moment. She noticed the amusement in his expression and rolled her eyes so that he would see.

"You're fit for a king now," she told him, patting his cheek lightly.

"I doubt your Skagosi men care to shave, even for their King," he replied, pulling his tunic back on over his head and tying the strings until they were easily knotted.

"Skagosi men are known for their beards," she said with pride, her smile growing as she talked of her home. "It is seen as a manly trait. Once a man has found himself a Skagosi bride he can then grow out his beard. A man without a wife is not yet a true man. Or so the customs say. Both of my brothers would likely disagree. Neither has a wife and yet I doubt you'll hear either say he isn't a true man."

"And here I am, My Lady, letting you emasculate me for the world to see." At this she laughed.

"You ought not let your mother hear you call me that," she scolded playfully, handing him his vest.

She'd taken it to mend the collar and when handing it back, he noticed it looked as good as new. "You were, as I recall, instructed to set the example for the servants. If they see you calling me 'My Lady' then they'll never stop."

"Oh, I don't see the harm," he replied. "You are every bit as noble as me or my family."

"I don't mind it so much. In Skagos no one calls me 'milady' and anyways it's nice to see the lads squirm as they try to remember my name," she joked, laying out her dress for dinner. It was a shade of green that would assuredly match her eyes.

"And they haven't even seen you with a sword."

"I assure you, I'm much better with a spear," she teased, looking up at him and he laughed. "Perhaps one day I'll show you."

"Are all the girls from Skagos so well trained?" he asked and she nodded.

"We have all those brutish men to handle, you know," it was a joke that was made only when Kathryn wasn't around but most of the household found it amusing. Even his father had to do his best not to laugh when the joke was made. "I've never been very good with the bow, however. Rowan always said he'd teach me but he was much too busy chasing the women to take the time for such a folly."

"I'm a good teacher, you know. My father, taught me at a young age," he told her and she seemed to beam at the offer.

"Actually," she replied, pulling out a bow from under her bed. "Theon's been showing me a few things here and there. We don't get much time since you're always stealing him away for a hunt."

"Perhaps I'll have more reason to steal him away now," he said and a pretty shade of pink appeared on her cheeks.

"You had better get on your way, Stark, before your Kathryn finds you in my chambers," she instructed, her smile falling somewhat and he felt some of the tension between them return in her words.

He furrowed his brow, wanting to to say something else but she was already opening up her door and he now had no other excuse to stay. She barely waited for him to walk out before she closed the door slowly behind her and he was left to the silence of the corridors. Robb looked at her door for a long while before making his way to his own rooms to change.

Robb truly had tried to control his natural inclination towards Fallon. But there was nothing he could do about the easy connection they had. She was certainly unlike any noblewoman he'd ever met. She didn't seek out his attention. Rather, she was always there when he sought out hers, as any friend would be.

He liked that she wasn't intimidated by Kathryn's attempts to embarrass her or belittle her. And she didn't put on some exaggerated facade when she was with him. Instead they would just fall into easy conversation where they could talk about things of their past and every so often he'd hear her laugh. Sometimes he would ask her questions about her homeland and she would discredit most of the stories the Starks had heard about Skagos as children.

Those were his favorite stories, the ones Fallon would tell, of traveling the mountains and prairies with her brothers as they hunted for boars. Her stories were hypnotizing, especially to the children. Often times his mother would send him out to drag them all in for bed, much passed the late hour in which they were supposed to be sound asleep. But other times he'd be outside as well, sitting around a fire as she spoke told old stories of the first men, and he'd look up to see his mother listening intently, his father closeby as well.

He could tell she missed her family. But he selfishly hoped that one day she would find herself at home here with his.

NED

It had been three days time since the arrival of Robert and his family. Three days of feasts and games that made Robert laugh with excitement as he indulged in his pleasures. For a man born in the Stormlands, Robert Baratheon certainly thrived in the North. Tomorrow they would spend a full day in the Wolfswood, hunting the delights of the Northern bounty. Ned would bring Robb and Jon, Theon as well who who had always excelled with a bow.

But tonight, they'd feast.

Catelyn had already complained to no end that this trip would cost them a fortune. He knew it would, he would just have to sacrifice more to make up for this visit. Because when it came down to it, no one said no to Robert. Even now as he paraded through the crowds, kissing various women in front of his wife's very eyes, no one would dare say a word. Perhaps Ned might comment about it later, in a lighthearted manner, when his friend was deep in his wine goblet.

But not now.

Cersei sat with Catelyn and the two spoke with Sansa as if no one noticed the King's behavior. Arya was running about, chasing after Bran who was likely to be caught at any moment. And Rickon sat next to Fallon who, by the looks of her exaggerated hand movements, was telling one of her coveted stories of Skagos.

Ned wasn't sure how his heart had grown so fond of the girl. In his few meetings with Drystan, Ned had never found any particular affection for the man, nor was he bound to forget the Starks' past with the Skagosi rebels who had plagued their land centuries before. Drystan's men were rough around the edges-untamed and cold in the presence of outsiders. His son Rowan was not unlike his father, Ned recalled. But there was a deeprooted prejudice that ran deep within the bloodlines of both Magnar and Stark. And despite efforts on his part, Ned still had trouble finding acceptance towards them.

Skagosi were not as savage as the mainland Westerosi cared to believe. They were different than the Northerners, however. They were brutal and brazen and even Fallon's demeanor had been shaped by the unyielding nature of the warrior culture she was bred in. But they were dangerously loyal to their own. He'd seen first hand what happened when threats were made upon Drystan's soldiers. Brave as he may have been, Ned still did not condone the wrongs the man had done towards the crown.

But there was something about the way Drystan Magnar had begged he take Fallon as his ward. He hadn't asked like a father protecting his sons, protecting his lineage like most men did. Instead, he'd begged for his daughter's life with desperation in his eyes. He'd never once seen Drystan on his knees, for any man. But for his daughter, he knelt and he pleaded for her life.

The more time Ned spent with Fallon, the more he came to realize how special she must have been to her father. She was a great deal like Arya in some aspects which was why the two girls got on so well. And for that he could see why he himself was so fond of her presence there at Winterfell.

But he was not the only one with a tender heart when it came to Fallon Magnar.

He remembered what it was like to be young, to chase after women with a gleam in his eye. But the moment he'd seen that gleam in Robb's eyes, Ned could not help but worry. At first he had written it off as innocent flirting of a boy on the verge of manhood. Fallon was a lovely girl with a vivacious spirit and it was easy to see why Robb had taken such a liking to her. In fact, he'd have thought his son blind had he not had at least some interest in her.

His only worry was what would stem of it. For now it was harmless. Fallon seemed very aware of the boundaries that separated anything further than friendship. Her attitude towards Robb seemed very proper, nothing more than cordial. In fact, Ned thought her indifference was clear to everyone except perhaps his son.

It wasn't helpful that Robb had found little in common with Kathryn. Robb had a noble heart, and therefore had always been drawn to kindhearted women no matter their status. Kathryn's warmth was not her most recommended quality. But she was still only a child and she would have time to grow out of her impatient ways. Ned had no choice but to join the two. It wouldn't be long now, a few months to gather the families, Kipling had said. They'd originally planned to take Kathryn home with them before the wedding, but Lord Ashford had insisted that she stay to learn her new home. Ned didn't have a strong sense of friendship for the man, but Robert had asked him to do it.

And no one said no to Robert.

It was why he was now the Hand of the King, why Sansa was now to be Joffrey's bride. No one said no to Robert and with that came a stream of consequence. He just hoped his children wouldn't have to be the ones to suffer for it.

"Ned!" he heard from the crowd of feasters and looked down to see Robert, two large-breasted women hanging off his arm as he waved. "I've been here three days my friend, and not once did you tell me you have a Skagg for a ward!" he belted with a hearty laugh. Some of the noise fell silent while others seemed to grow louder, perhaps to distract from the slur that had poured from the King's lips.

"She's Drystan Magnar's daughter, hardly a Skagosi savage, Your Grace," Ned replied, holding his composure as he approached Robert who took a long sip of ale.

"Magnar not a savage? Clearly you've forgotten how much that bastard owes you. Now, where is the hag!?" he asked searching around with his belly pulsing as he laughed.

Ned glanced towards Fallon, who was already very attuned to the conversation taking place about her from across the room. She looked up at the two of them with mild interest though upon spotting their lingering gaze, tried to pretend as if she hadn't been eavesdropping. Ned reluctantly waved her over, not wishing to embarrass the girl further as he had mistakenly done with the Ashfords.

She walked to his side and Robert hollered for more ale and glanced around until another cup was in his hand. It took him several minutes to even notice the girl at Ned's side and when he did, the ale cup was paused at his lips. Robert stared for a long moment, taking in the girl's appearance with more seriousness in his eyes than Ned had seen in some time. Then, as if he'd seen Ned's curiosity, the old King laughed heartily.

"What's this?" he asked through his laughter. "Certainly you don't expect me to believe this lovely maiden is your Skagg?" Ned saw Fallon visibly tense and he placed his hand on her shoulder to help calm her.

"Her name is Fallon, Drystan's sixth child and youngest daughter," Ned countered and the King's laughter died down slowly as he looked down at her, contemplating his next words.

"Who was your mother girl?" he asked and Fallon looked up to Ned who nodded.

"Moira Waterman, Your Grace," she said confidently, looking Robert in the eye which seemed to unnerve the stag as he glanced back at his cup. "She lived just outside of Ramsgate." Robert cleared his throat.

"She must have been a great beauty to allow Drystan's lot to be blessed with such amiable looks," he told her, reaching out to her and placing his hand under Fallon's chin. If she was more uncomfortable than Ned felt, then she certainly hid it well. The rest of the hall had already returned to it's merriment, all but Robert. "How old are you?"

"I will celebrate my eighteenth nameday in a few months time, Your Grace."

"Seven Hells Ned!" he proclaimed. "The poor girl will be condemned to the life of an old maid if you don't find her a more suitable position. It's a sin to waste such a pretty face, if you ask me," he said laughing. "I know a great deal of Lords who would kill to conquer a Skagg bride with a face like hers."

"I've vowed to marry her off to a good house once her father's debts are paid," Ned replied. "I consider her well being as I would consider my daughters'."

"You should feel quite lucky, girl. Ned Stark is the Warden of the North. You being his ward could only benefit well for you," Robert told her.

"Yes, Your Grace. My Lord Stark is a most gracious host," she said with a forced grin. At this Robert laughed.

"See that you are Ned," was his response as he turned away and Ned nudged Fallon along. She didn't waste time in fleeing out of the hall doors and he pretended not to notice as Robb stood from his seat and followed quickly after.

Robert looked after the girl for only a moment before turning back to his whores, leaving Ned standing alone in the crowd pondering just how he had become friends with such a man in the first place.

FALLON

She felt beyond insulted.

In fact, when she tried desperately to search for the right word to describe how disgusted she felt, there wasn't one good enough that came to mind. She had observed the king for three days since his arrival and had immediately written him off as a simple drunk, with no interests other than bedding women and drinking ale.

She had, however, been shocked that he'd noticed her at all. It was Lord Stark who had insisted they keep quiet about her presence there and the idea hadn't hurt her feelings any. In fact, all she wanted to do was be completely unnoticed by the lot of them who looked down on even Lord Stark. Only Robert seemed genuinely pleased to be here while the others were often complaining about anything and everything that came to mind.

After her encounter she had quickly disappeared into the courtyards in the back of the keep, seeing many of the servants having a celebration of their own around the fire. The ones who weren't busy working to wait hand and foot on the royals were singing around the campfire with more merriment than she'd seen in days. And certainly more merriment than she felt in the great hall.

Robb had followed her, she wasn't surprised but she refused to acknowledge his presence as she stared, entranced by the fire as it danced up into the sky. He didn't speak at first, only stood there in silence just behind her. She was still seething from her encounter and she couldn't deal with Robb's infatuation on top of it. But for some reason, she could not force herself to ask him to leave.

"Are you alright?" she heard Robb ask from several feet away and she glanced over her shoulder at him.

"Do I seem alright?" she said, her tone with too much bite. She noticed too late though because by the time she realized how rude she sounded, the words had already been said. "Apologies, My Lord."

"If it calms your mind, my father says the King is always like that," Robb said and Fallon looked around to be sure no one was listening in on Robb's words. She closed the gap between them until they were a mere arm's width apart. He was still wearing that expression on his face from three days ago and she wasn't sure how to make it go away, even if she did know what it was.

"The only thing that will calm me is when the caravan leaves for King's Landing in a weeks time," she said, crossing her arms over her chest. It was the first night she'd felt the cold breeze bite through her thick dress and she cursed herself for forgetting a cloak.

"My father is leaving with them, and my sisters," Robb said and Fallon's eyes shot back to his.

"What? But why?"

"He's to be Hand of the King. And Sansa's to marry Joffrey. I'm sure Arya's going against her will, however."

"Hand of the King?" Fallon asked in disbelief. "But he is Warden of the North."

"The responsibility will be left to me. I'm plenty old enough to see to the Lords, to handle the estate. It's what I've spent my years preparing for," Robb told her. She looked down at her hands, deep in thought before she spoke.

"What will happen to me then? Must I go with them? I am his ward."

"If you wish to, I suppose" he said, looking down at her with those eyes that lit up as the fire grew behind her. "I hardly think my father would force you."

"I have no desire to leave the North," she whispered. "Nothing south of the Neck could tempt me to leave."

It was the truth. She did not want to leave the comfort of the North for the unknown of King's Landing. Not only would she be an unwelcome guest at the King's table, but she would be laughed at by people who were prejudiced against those from Skagos.

"Perhaps if I speak to him-," she said quickly, stepping in the direction she had come from but he stopped her with his hand lightly on her arm.

"Now won't be the time," Robb said. "Perhaps tomorrow, after the hunt with the King. He's usually more susceptible to listen when he's had a good hunt."

She watched Robb for several moments. He was tall, towering over her small frame. But he wasn't using it to intimidate her. Instead, she was surprised by the comfort she found in his presence. The look in his eyes calmed the rage that was causing her fists to clench. She knew why he had followed her, or at least she suspected why. And in that moment she thought perhaps she didn't mind so much.

"I heard what he said to you," he whispered and Fallon moved her eyes from his gaze, ashamed of the words the King had spoken. "We won't let you have that life Fallon. My father really does care for you. He wouldn't like to see you suffer."

"I can't go with them, Stark," she said softly. "I have finally found myself belonging here. If I might never return to Skagos, then I must make this place my home. And it's just starting to feel that way. I can see myself being happy here. Your family is kinder to me than perhaps I deserve."

"There are many who would be very happy to hear you say that," he replied, and she could see his breath in the cold air, more frequent as each moment passed.

"Would they be willing to help make it so I could stay?" she asked, knowing by 'they', what she really meant was him.

"Yes," he replied simply.

They stood together for a long while in the darkness, watching the fire without words passing between them. She felt Robb's proximity from the warmth radiating off of his hand that was so near hers. She didn't know how long it was that they stood there but she felt her stomach leap after his hand accidentally graze hers when he moved out of the way for one of the dancing couples.

It was some time before Robb walked her up to her rooms and she retired early for bed. She didn't dare look back at him as she closed her door, afraid of what she might see on his face if she did. She had no intentions of causing any confusion between the two of them, regardless of how fond she was of their blossoming friendship.

It wasn't long before Enat joined her as well, smiling from ear to ear as she recounted her story of the nights events. Enat had been one of the dancing couples by the fire. She'd always loved to dance. So had Fallon growing up. She knew all the Northern dances by heart thanks to Enat who would make Fallon her dance partner for practicing when they were children.

But Fallon wasn't listening as she sat in the hot bath, letting the steam climb around her as the chatter was drowned out by her own thoughts. The water was hot against her skin and she hoped it would scald away whatever lingering feelings existed underneath her left fingertips. She stayed like that for a while before she felt Enat start brushing her hair lightly, still going on about someone with grey eyes like clouds overtop the Black Mountains of Skagos.

Fallon's mind was lost.

It was still dark the next morning, much too early to rise when she heard the sound of horses outside her window, gathering in the courtyard for the day's hunt. The men would leave before dawn, and wouldn't return until the next day and for that she was glad. Especially as a familiar laugh filled her ears, coming from down below.

And she desperately tried to ignore the tingle in her fingers.

Updated on 6/24/15