A/N: Events will change. Alot. Oh, and I don't own anything. I'm a girl, and I really don't think I look like George R.R. Martin. So, here goes…
I have a brother. That's the only thing I've been able to think about. Apparently 17 is as old as you have to be before you know these things. My uncle, honestly…
Anyways, I'm sitting on the railing of a small fishing boat, my long brown hair skimming the water, sailing to Winterfell. Because my new life is there. Because Theon's there.
It's been days, but we're finally there. Will he like me? Will he not honor me because I'm a bastard? I'm just nervous.
I step off the boat, and the first thing I register is snow, and cold. How do the Starks stand it? They're all there. The youngest girl, Arya, is yelling at the next oldest girl, Sansa, and the oldest, Arianna, is trying to stop it. The bastard, Jon, is watching with an amused look on his face, and the other guys are not really doing anything.
Lord Stark welcomes me. I ask him where Theon is. "He didn't think to come." Lord Stark tells me. That alone almost makes me start crying. The boy Jon senses it and puts a hand on my shoulder. "I'm sure he'll love you." he whispers. "Thank you." I say faintly. He smiles, the world lights up for a second, and suddenly everything feels better.
Then we walk to the castle. Bran and Arya are talking animatedly to a girl with white blonde hair. Jon and Robb are racing each other to the castle. Rickon's with Lady Catelyn. And Arianna comes over to talk to me. "How old are you?" she asks. "17." I reply. "How old is Theon?" I ask. "19 or 20, I forget." He's not that much older than me. I wonder how old Jon is. Currently, Robb's winning their race back. And Arya's started yelling at Sansa again. I like her. Arya, I mean. She's got spirit.
The castle's amazing, but then again, I've never seen one before. The white blond haired girl shows me to my room. It's as big as my old house was! I go out, into the forest. The snow is fresh, and everything's covered in white. I start singing, just to remind myself of home in this strange new world.
And then I hear breathing behind me. I abruptly stop singing, and pull out the knife I keep hidden in my boot.
"Watch out, snow bird! You might kill someone with that!" Jon Snow says. "Snow bird?" I ask. "You sing so beautifully." I'm almost positive I'm blushing. It could be the cold.
"Thank you." I say. "Just the truth." he says. I like him. Of course, he's 4 or 5 years younger than me.
Life. Why does it have to be like this?
A/N: This may not be my best chapter, but I'm just getting a feel for it. The next chapter will be in the King's Landing, then back in Winterfell, etc. Please review!