CHAPTER 1 | WINTER IS COMING

FREYA Greyjoy loved when the wind hit her face, blowing her knotted hair off her shoulders. She watched the small folk attend to their duties down below, wishing that the area was filled with water, rather than people. Freya had wanted to leave the Iron Islands since she was seven – because even at that age, she had a wild heart – but now that she was here, in Winterfell, she missed the smell of salt water. She wondered if her brother felt the same.

"M'lady," Selene called, "I have not finished your hair."

Freya nodded and backed away from her window. She moved forward inside her chambers, sitting down in front of her vanity for her handmaiden to finish dressing her. Selene always complained how Freya's hair was always in knots, as if she was her mother, and Selene was only four years older. The Greyjoy didn't mind though, because she loved listening to Selene's accent when she spoke.

Selene came from the Free City of Braavos. Father had told her that she originally worked at a brothel, but she needed to escape her abusive owner, so she fled for the Iron Islands with a few of her coworkers. The journey from Braavos to the Iron Islands was long, and many of Selene's friends died of hunger. When Selene had finally made it to Pyke, father said that a young Theon had found her and convinced Balon to take her in. Father would say it was because Theon thought she was pretty, but regardless, Freya was glad she had Selene with her since she was ten.

Her handmaiden wove her fingers through Freya's hair, creating an intricate style that the Greyjoy sibling was now famous for. Selene would tightly braid the sides of her lady's head and let them flow down back. She would then pull the top of her hair back and loosely weave it in.

"What are your plans for today, m'lady?" Selene asked.

Freya shrugged. "I might try to sneak into the Stark boys' training today."

Selene walked in front of her lady when she was finished, pointing her finger at the younger woman. "Freya Greyjoy, now I might be just your handmaiden, but your father would want you to be acting like a lady if he was here. You are past the age of marrying. You must make yourself suitable for a noble lord."

"My father didn't care about my status, even on the Iron Islands. He was the one who got me a swords-master, after all." Freya looked down at her hands. "Give me another year, Selene. I am not comfortable marrying someone I don't know. The thought of it makes me uncomfortable."

Freya understood Selene's persistence, but even after being legitimized, she still thought of herself as bastard. She thought everyone knew, and no one would care to marry a former bastard anyways. She wasn't exactly itching to marry either. At nineteen years old, hope was probably lost, but she wasn't searching for it.

A knock sounded at her door, and both Freya and Selene turned their heads to see Jon Snow standing at the foot of the entrance. He bowed towards the two women and Freya smiled. She liked Jon Snow, and he for her. They both related to each other on a nice level, and he happened to be one of the only Stark siblings she liked, other than Bran and Rickon.

"Excuse me for interrupting, my ladies," he cleared his throat before eying the Greyjoy sibling. "Freya, Bran would like me to ask if you were free to help him with his archery."

Freya looked at Selene, who gave her an annoyed look. "I thought your little brother had been listening to Sansa and Arya's words that I was a witch?"

"Bran is smarter than that," Jon chuckled as Freya stood from her chair and followed him out of her chambers.

The two walked down the wooden stairs that led to the common ground. Mud squished under Freya's boots and stained the bottom of her dress, but she didn't mind. Jon and Freya met with Bran by the targets, and she was surprised to see Robb there as well.

To put it simply, Robb very much disliked Freya. She had always been an annoyance to him, and so had Theon at first, but Robb slowly warmed up to him. Freya was different, and it wasn't just because she dared to beat him at every sword fight he challenged her. She was older and cocky. But Robb had his height, and that was the only thing that kept him together in front of her small form.

"I've heard you asked for my help, Bran?" She smiled towards the second-youngest Stark. She then looked up, greeting, "Robb."

"Freya," Robb replied. His eyes formed into slits.

Bran nodded towards the Greyjoy women. "I can't hit the target right, and my brothers are not helping."

"That's because your brothers take joy in seeing you fail," Freya grimaced, trying not to glare at Robb, but knew he was doing the same to her. "Show me your technique."

Bran lifted the bow, which seemed to be too large for his tiny body, and readied an arrow on it. His hands shook as he pulled back on the string, but when he let the arrow go, it flew right into a barrel to the right of the target. Bran frowned and tried again, but this time he sent in arrow flying past a gate.

Jon and Robb laughed, as well as little Rickon watching from the sidelines. Freya realized both Ned and Catelyn Stark were also watching from above in the castle. Ned hid his jest by saying, "And which one of you was a marksman at ten? Keep practicing, Bran. Go on."

Freya smiled at Ned, a man that she grew fond of for taking both her and Theon in. A surrender agreement after a war was hard enough, and though she had been angry to have been taken away from her home, Ned was good caretaker. She knew that even though he fought alongside Robert Baratheon in the Greyjoy Rebellion, he did not kill her brothers.

Freya then turned back to Bran. "I see your problem," she nodded, reaching forward and helping Bran position his bow. "You are moving your bow off to the side as you release an arrow. It's a common mistake if you have shaky hands. Even the best marksmen do it."

Bran nodded, allowing Freya to help him hold the bow and position an arrow in it. "Don't think too much, Bran," Jon advised.

Bran controlled the shakiness of his hands as Freya helped him pull back on the string. Robb suggested, "Relax your bow arm."

"I think his bow arm is just fine, Robb," Freya muttered with a smirk. Robb's smile vanished.

Freya backed away, but before Bran could send off his arrow, another one hit the bullseye from behind them. The four look back and saw Arya, holding a bow in her small hands. She curtsied after her perfect shot, causing Bran to abandoned his bow and sprint after her. Robb, Jon, and Freya laughed at the children.

After a short while, Freya was surprised by her brother's presence next to her. Theon laced his arm through her own as he said, "Get your warm cloak. I think Lord Stark will ask of you to come with us."

"What's going on, brother?"

Theon looked around. "There's a deserter from the Night's Watch. Lord Stark must execute him. I have to saddle the horses."

Freya nodded and padded her feet up the stairs to her chambers. She passed by Lord Stark and Lady Catelyn, hearing the wife exclaim, "Ned, ten is too young to see such things!"

"He won't be a boy forever," Ned replied darkly, "and winter is coming."

Freya approached Ned hesitantly, and the couple acknowledged her instantly. "Lady Freya, I was just about to ask to speak with you. Do you have the time to accompany us on a journey with your brother?"

"Of course, Lord Stark," Freya smiled. She almost made the effort to curtsy, but that was like watching an animal dance.

Catelyn walked forward, putting a hand on Freya's shoulder as she addressed her husband. "Ned, not her too. Freya is a lady; she should not be involved in such matters."

"Freya Greyjoy is also a gifted swordswomen and older than all of our children. She is an adult, and deserves to see the law being upheld."

"I do not mind, Lady Catelyn." Freya assured. "There are worse things to be seen."

•••

Selene watched her lady and company ride away to the outskirts of Winterfell. She hid herself away in Freya's chambers, but made sure to keep a close eye on her as she left. Selene did find her eyes wandering to Theon leaving as well, though she knew it was wrong. Theon Greyjey was seven years younger than herself, but Selene thought he was already a built man, and oh-so handsome. Selene had been the one to take his virtue just a few months prior, because he had asked for it and she had never been one to dishonor a man upon his request. She would never tell her lady of this though.

Theon looked back, spotting Selene at the top of his sister's tower. He waved his hand, and Selene slowly backed away from the window.

Lord Stark had taken them on the borders near Winterfell, where a large block made from a tree limb was place upon a hill. Green grass swept along their feet as he took the younger men and women through the open field. Stark banner man stood along the hill, holding their house's flags proudly and with ease. Ned allowed his children and the Greyjoy siblings to stand behind him, and Freya watch the scene unfold with her arm laced around her brother's. She held the fur of her cloak close to her chest while watching the Night's Watch deserter, Will, approach the block with two Stark knights at his side.

"I know I broke my oath, and I know I'm a deserter. I should have gone back to the Wall and warned them. But I saw what I saw." Will looked down. "I saw the White Walkers. People need to know. If you can get word to my family, tell them I'm no coward. Tell them I'm sorry."

Freya's keen eyes narrowed at the sight of Will. His face was grotesque, and scars of frostbite littered his skin. He spoke of the White Walkers, which was a legend she had never heard of until arriving at Winterfell. She never heard of creatures like that on the Iron Islands; all she knew of was the Drowned God. She didn't know if she believed in the White Walkers, but Bran somewhat did. They sounded like an old wives' tale.

Ned nodded his head. The two Stark knights grab hold of Will roughly and placed his head on the block. Theon unlocked his arm from his sister to hold out Ned's scabbard, and the lord pulled out his sword, Ice, from it. Robb stood next to Freya, whispering, "It's okay not to look, Greyjoy."

"I'm not a coward," she seethed. "I've seen my brothers' mangled and detached corpses as a child. This is nothing, Stark."

Robb narrowed his eyes as he backed away, and Theon took his place next to his sister again. The wind roared against their cloaked bodies, making it hard to stand, but Freya could still hear Will mumbling, "Forgive me, lord."

Ned held Ice close to his chest and closed his eyes tightly. He recited his words carefully: "In the name of Robert of House Baratheon, first of his name, King of the Andals and the First Men ..."

"Don't look away," Jon muttered to Bran. "Father will know if you do." Bran stared at the scene before him with dark eyes, and Freya felt for him. She had to seen things such as this – things she did not want to see – and they must all live through it.

"... Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and protector of the realm." Ned exhaled. "I, Eddard of the House Stark, Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North, sentence you to die."

He swung Ice and without a second thought, Ned beheaded the former Night's Watch brother. Freya had been watching Bran, who did not look away. The younger boy did wince though. Freya looked back at the beheaded body of Will, watching his blood coat the grass like a crimson blanket.

Jon muttered a few words to Bran before Robb escorted the younger boy away. Freya continued her stare on the corpse that lay before them. Theon glanced at his sister, noticing her distracted stare. "Does it remind you of Rodrik and Maron?"

"I am reminded of our brothers' downfall in the name of that Baratheon king everyday," she muttered frankly. "But nothing can change the past."

Freya had never been bothered by the sight of blood, but the death of Will caused an eerie feeling to creep up on her. She didn't know if it was the corpse or the mention of Robert Baratheon – the man who had killed her brothers – but the thought of war formed on the edge of her mind. Although, what Lord Stark did was correct, because he once told her that the man who passes the sentence should swing the sword.

•••

A/N: I'm very excited for the future of this book! I've never written a warrior-like character, so this should be interesting. But I really love writing for Freya; she's funny, but also very hot-headed. Her and Theon will practically be inseparable, which will be good for Theon's character growth!

Hope everyone is just as excited!