A Giant Among Wolves

"These Songs will not be to everyone's taste, for there is little variation among them, all of them containing the same words, such as: hero, knight, horseman, galley slave, serpent, dragon, wolf, lion, eagle, falcon's nest and sword, sabers, lances, necklets, medallions, decrees, heads chopped off, slaves carried away, etc. May those who find them pleasing sing them; may those who do not, go off to sleep."

—Andrija Kačić Miošić

A/N: So, I spent 16 hours on trains the last few days, but every-time I tried to write my other story, this kept creeping back in. Finally I gave up the ghost and typed up a few chapters. "Fish" is still my main fic. I'll post a chapter a week of this one until what I've written is up. And if people like it, I'll try to update now and then sporadically. And if not, we'll consider it a failed experiment.

A couple of explanations of what this story is. Since I believe readers should know what they are getting into. This is a self insert/OC story. The SI is Ned and Cat's second son. Essentially, it goes on the premise that Cat gave birth to a second son roughly a year after Robb was born. So he is between Robb and Sansa in age.

This fic is not a tech uplift fic. This fic is also not a fix-it fic. The SI has *NO KNOWLEDGE* of ASOIAF. Too many of the fics I read centered on the North are all about 'fixing' their story. Some butterflies in the story are inevitable due to the SI's birth… but some of those butterflies will be bad. And, unlike "Fish," butterflies are not the main 'point' of this story. My goal with this fic is to explore two ideas. 1) Usually when we have a SI it is focused on how the SI changes Westeros. I wanted to explore how being stuck in Westeros would instead change the average modern-urban-western SI. 2) I wanted to examine the culture and politics of the North more closely. Both of which are very rich, but I feel seldom examined properly. Most fics centered on the north either get turned into 'fix-it' ones, or treat them like caricatures. So there we go, enough of my jabbering, time for the story.

Chapter 1:

The knowledge of who I was before, my past life, whatever it was, came upon me slowly. As near as I can tell, and from what I've heard and pieced together, I was a perfectly normal baby. Something I suppose I should be grateful for, as it saved me several possibly life-scarring memories.

So no, I hadn't always remembered my past life. Or that I was supposed to be enjoying my first year in college, not stuck in a medieval castle. As near as I can tell, my memories had started coming back around the age of two or three. Perhaps my brain simply hadn't been able to handle them before then? It had been like slowly waking from a dream. I hadn't snapped back into awareness instantly. Instead, it had been like I was remembering things through a haze, or seeing my memories through water. And gradually over time my mind sharpened and I remembered better. By the time I was four, I could remember my past life perfectly.

Which was no blessing, let me tell you. Ignorance is bliss. Even years later, I often wished those memories hadn't come back. Even ignoring the whole fact that I was now seven in age, but decades older in experience, my memories hadn't brought me anything useful. It is no blessing that I can remember television, pizza, or the New York Yankees. If anything it just made me more miserable in my present situation.

It wasn't even the medieval technology, bland food, and lack of indoor plumbing. Bad as those things were. It was partially the cold. I rarely left Winterfell if I could avoid it, as even though it was summer it was just too bone-jarringly cold. I shuddered when I remembered the one, supposedly mild, winter I had lived through in this hellhole. But more than anything else, it was just the feeling of being out of place. Not belonging. Everything, even my thought process, was just different. And I had to live with the constant disappointed looks of my family and everyone else here. So no, my memories were not a blessing.

I gave my head a shake, trying to get my mind off that disappointing sidetrack. I tried to focus back in on my book, a biography of Grand Maester Aethelmure. Normally, I gobbled up anything I could about the south and the Citadel, but this volume was particularly dull. Still, I would push on. The library was my one sanctuary in the castle, and any free minute I had I hurried here. The warm water piped through its walls assured I was always toasty warm, it was furnished with comfortable furniture, and I was rarely bothered here. Really, the only down side was that it was quite a distance from the main keep and had an annoyingly steep exterior staircase.

Well, that and it really wasn't much of a library by my standards either. Ohh, it was great for a medieval castle. It had hundreds of books. Maybe even a thousand. But then you had to remember, in my first life our family house had more than that. Really the library was just one very big room at the top of the tower. I couldn't help but glumly guess that in a few more years I would have managed to read every book in the place. God knew what I'd do to occupy myself then. It's why I forced myself to savor even the boring volumes like the one on Maester Aethelmure. Until I could somehow escape this frozen wasteland, I had to savor and enjoy ever last book.

And hell. I realized objectively I had it pretty lucky. I was the second son of a Lord Paramount, even if said lord was in the middle of said frozen wasteland. I shuddered to imagine what life would have been like if I had been born a peasant. Short and brutal I suspected. From what I'd gleaned from books and conversation, Westeros was far worse than even medieval earth had been. Still, that didn't mean I liked my lot here. I did have a plan though, and with luck this library would help me on the way. I'd read everything I could on the citadel, Maesters, and the south. It was hardly a glamorous life, but the idea of living in a city, in the warm south, surrounded by thousands of books… well that was probably as good as I was going to get it in this world. But for now, I was still stuck here.

Gloomily I turned back to my book, but had barely turned a page before the tower door creaked open. Irritated, I glanced up at who was disturbing my sanctuary, but the grimace turned to a smile when I spotted Maester Luwin.

"Maester!" The small man was perhaps my favorite person in the castle. Winterfell was in desperately short supply of people capable of holding an intellectual conversation.

"Eyron," he smiled down at me. "I thought I would find you here."

I grinned back up at him. "Is it time for lessons?" I loved lessons with Luwin. I used to be grouped with Robb, Jon, and Theon for lessons, but the Maester had seen how bored I got with their slow pace. These days, he taught me separate.

Luwin gave me a look of fond exasperation. "I've never seen a boy take to his studies as much as you. But lessons today are not with me. Lord Eddard wants you in the yard again."

My smile immediately dimmed. Not again. "I'd rather stay here. With you. You promised you would tell me of Edrick Snowbeard… Aethelmure is surprisingly vague on why exactly he chose to let the wolf's den fall…" I let a tone of disbelief creep into my voice, trying to tempt the Maester into a lecture.

"He didn't LET it fall, Eyron." Luwin took on a lecturing tone. "Really, by that time he was king only in name. His grandson was acting in his stead, but didn't have the authority to call the banners…"

I grinned, my plan was working. "Yes, but still. Slavers? None of the local lords could do anything?"

"It was more complicated than that and you know it… but…" Luwin cut himself off, giving me a stern look as he folded his arms inside his voluminous sleeves. "But we can talk about King Edrick later. Your father wants you."

Grrr. "Do I have to? I'm in the middle of a book!" I helpfully nudged it forward so he could see the open volume.

Luwin leaned over to see what I was reading and gave his head a shake. "The life of Grand Maester Aethelmure?" He gave a snort. "Than you should be thanking me. Besides, the book will still be waiting for you when you are done."

I smothered another grin. Yet another reason I liked him was his dry sense of humor. It went right over the heads of most of the dunderheads here, but I found it refreshing. Still. Luwin was annoyingly unbending when it came to my father, and there would be no arguing with him. I suspected if Lord Eddard told him to jump off the castle walls, he would only pause to ask which one.

Luwin shook his head. "Don't give me that look either, Eyron. Your father isn't wrong. It is good your mind is so sharp, you are one of the brightest boys your age I've seen. But there is more to being a lord than book smarts, you need to know how to lead men as well. You need to apply yourself to all of your studies, not just here in the library."

I hopped up from the table at that, my mood officially ruined. I tended to be a stubborn individual, but I knew there was no getting out of this. And I liked Luwin, but the last thing I wanted was to have to sit here and listen to another lecture. "The yard?" I grumbled.

Luwin sighed as I ignored his words, but gave a nod. "By the armory. They are waiting for you."

I gave a curt nod, pulled my furs tighter around me, and braved the outdoors.

—

I hated my sword lessons. All my weapons lessons really. Which was why I was particularly displeased to find myself wrapped in padded leather armor so thick I could barely bend my arms, and a wood practice sword in my hand. The fact that I was facing off against Robb, with my father and several retainers looking on, only made it worse.

Honestly, sword training in Winterfell brought back my worst memories of sports. I'd been horribly unathletic in my previous life. I was the kid whom they stuck in left-field and hoped he never saw the ball. The kid who always struck out, or who when he went to throw the ball it landed five feet in front of him. It had been humiliating, and my reaction had always been to dig my heels in more.

I clearly had different genetics in this world, but maybe it was the attitude? Or the approach? I spent far too much time thinking and not enough acting perhaps. Either way, I suspect this was going to be a humiliating experience. Like the last dozen previous experiences.

"No, Eyron… like this…" Ser Rodrik's calloused hand moved over mine, adjusting my grip on the training sword.

Dutifully I adjusted my fingers, though the sword felt no more comfortable now in my hand than it had before. My arm ached from trying to hold it aloft, and I could see the wooden blade wavering already.

Ser Rodrik heaved a sigh of disappointment as he looked at me. But he didn't say anything. I suspected my incompetence was wearing down his resolve. Instead he stepped back glancing between me and my brother. "Are you ready Lord Robb?"

My brother gave a firm nod, stepping forwards. I gave him a wary glance. Robb wasn't cruel, but neither would he hold back. He was too dutiful to do that. Really, he got on my nerves. He was only a year older than me, or ten years younger depending how you looked at it, but he seemed to do everything right. It was rather embarrassing, truth be told.

It likely didn't help that even though he was only a year older than me, he was twice as strong. I was as tall as Robb, but I took after my father. Long face, gray eyes, and slim build. Robb even as a kid was already broad shouldered and twice as strong as me.

My musings were cut forcefully short as Robb closed in on me, wood sword rising. I felt a stinging swat to my arm, and suddenly I was sitting in the mud, sword halfway across the yard.

Great. Now I was cold, sore, and muddy to boot. I heaved myself back to my feet, a harder task than you might imagine with all my padding.

Robb dutifully stepped back to let me get to my feet, but Ser Rodrik was tugging at his whiskers in frustration. "Eyron! No! How many times do I have to tell you? Your sword should be part of your arm. Can you drop your arm?"

"No, Ser Rodrik…" I mumbled as I picked the sword up off the ground.

He heaved a sigh. "Are you alright boy?"

"Yes, Ser Rodrik."

Another sigh. "Why don't you attack Robb this time?" His voice was neutral, but I could tell he had as little optimism in this change of plans as I did. "Robb, I want you to defend."

"You can do it Eyron!" That was my half brother Jon. He was grinning and shouting encouragement. He was a good kid and always felt like he had to encourage me or help me. In a way we were both outcasts to an extent. The only difference was, I was an outcast due to total lameness and the 'weird' fact that I liked books more than swords. Jon because for some reason he got blamed for our father cheating on my mother.

Of course, Jon cheering, while well meant, only made me more self-conscious. My father was there with Jon and several of the guards watching. The guards were joking and only half paying attention, but I could feel my fathers eyes on me even though he never said a word. His face was solemn and showed no emotion, but I knew him well enough to feel the disappointment behind those eyes. He never said anything, but I could tell. And no matter how much I told myself that I didn't care, I still couldn't help but hate disappointing him. It probably didn't help that I never knew my father from my past life. The whole thing was just awkward.

"Eyron! Move!" That was Ser Rodrik getting impatient with my delaying.

Hesitantly I moved forward, swatting at Robb. My brother sidestepped and brushed my half-hearted strike aside.

"Again Eyron!" Rodrik bellowed.

I swatted with the sword again, almost losing my balance this time. Robb took advantage of that, and before I knew it I was on my butt in the mud yet again. Robb, of course, was too honorable to follow up once I was on the ground and took a step back.

Rodrik had that defeated look in his eyes as I scrambled to my feet. He heaved another sigh and pointed to the side of the yard. "Eyron, why don't you practice your form over there?" Rodrik's eyes searched the crowd on the sidelines, settling on my half-brother. "Jon, do you fancy a bout?"

Jon bounded forwards eagerly, taking up a practice sword himself. Robb turned as well, a smile breaking out over his face. Those two were thick as thieves.

I slunk off a few feet, just as pleased to be spared Rodrik's attention. The only good thing about the man, was he seemed to be giving up on me lately. It had only taken three years. With any luck, I could stay in the corner out of sight pretending I was practicing my forms while he focused on my brothers.

I halfheartedly smacked my sword at a wood dummy as I watched Jon getting into his padded armor while Robb gestured excitedly to him, recounting some adventure.

Suddenly, Jon turned around to me, flashing a shy smile before his face turned solemn again. "Eyron. Did you hear? Father is going to let us leave the castle later!"

"We're going to patrol for wilding raiders!" That was Robb, talking excitedly.

Jon rolled his eyes and hastened to reassure me. "Jory is coming with us. And Vanyon Poole. We're visiting some Mill on Acorn Water."

Robb jumped in again. "Yeah, but Jory Said we'll be RIGHT NEAR the Wolfswood!"

Jon's eyes were still focused on me though. "Wanna come? It'll be fun."

I hesitated and gave a half hearted shrug. I felt bad turning him own… but the last thing I wanted was to go traipsing through the countryside. No roads. Lots of cold. Wild animals. And knowing my luck we'd be stuck camping overnight.

Robb saw my hesitation and rolled his eyes in a dramatic fashion. "C'mon Jon. Let's go spar. Jory said we've gotta finish before we can go."

Jon hesitated another moment, eying me. But when I made no move to follow after them, finally turned back to Robb and followed him.

No way did I want to go walking anywhere near someplace called the Wolfswood, but I also couldn't help but feel a surge of frustration and self-pity. Because yes, I was lonely here. There weren't a lot of kids my age in Winterfell, and those that were shared no interests with me. It didn't help that at times I felt like a real seven year old, and other times I felt like the college student I had been in my previous life. And most of all, it didn't help that I was stuck in this frozen hell-hole. I hated it here. I fought back the shameful prickling in my eyes and gave another half-hearted wack at the dummy with the sword.

"Eyron." I startled at the noise, turning around in surprise to see Eddard Stark behind me.

"Father." I mumbled. I always felt a bit uncomfortable with the man. He was always so formal, not at all what my expectations of a parent were from my previous life. At least with my mother, she wasn't afraid to show emotion and love with me. But my father… well… he always came across as some sort of inscrutable unmovable lord.

For a long moment he just observed me quietly, with solemn gray eyes. Finally, he rested a hand on my shoulder. "I think that's enough practice for today."

"Yes Father." I mumbled. I was both relieved to be done with the sword practice, and somewhat embarrassed that once again I had failed.

After depositing the practice sword back in the armory and losing my extra padding, I was about to slink off back to the library tower when my father stopped me with a raised hand.

"Father?" I blinked in surprise. It was a little unusual for him to get involved in my routine. Usually he was too busy doing whatever medieval lords did in this world.

"Eyron, I was hoping we could talk." One thing I would say for the man, he never talked down to me or treated me like a child.

I looked up expectantly at him, waiting for him to say what was on his mind. Instead though, he turned and started walking across the yard towards the godswood.

I heaved a sigh. The godswood was basically a mini forest with creepy trees in it. Not exactly my favorite place, but clearly I was meant to follow my father.

Another sigh as I thought longingly of the warm library tower and the waiting books. But it never crossed my mind to not follow him. Eddard Stark just had this air of silent authority about him that caused you to do what he wanted. It was kind of impressive to be honest.

But it also meant that I quickly broke into a light jog to catch up with him. Once I was beside him, he didn't glance down at me at all, but he did let his hand ruffle my hair for a moment before resting on my shoulder.

Yeah, he was an alright father I supposed. I wasn't sure why we were going to go the godswood or what we had to talk about, but maybe this would be an opportunity for me to subtly broach plan 'get somewhere warm and civilized' with him.