Prologue
The Girl in the Snow

"Life is not a song, sweetling. Someday you may learn that, to your sorrow." - George R R Martin

She was scarcely breathing, buried in a thin dusting of the snow which had fallen from the skies. Robb knelt beside her limp form, eyes wide in worry. She could not have been more than ten and seven name-days old, collapsed on the frost-bitten ground. His eyes trailed over her ruby-red lips, a stark contrast against the pure white of the snow surrounding her. Her honey coloured hair was splayed around her in disarray, framing her youthful face.

She was clad in a cream dress which scarcely covered her body, her arms exposed to the cold air with nothing but a lace mesh to protect them. She was dressed in finery, which made Robb wonder what reason she had to be wandering on her own. He concluded that to survive in the cold and harsh Northern climate she must have had a cloak at some point in the journey and lost it. What was most startling about her was the crimson blood painted across the pleats of her skirts and across her back, which Robb noticed as he gently looped his arms under legs and her back. He clutched her close to his body, providing her the warmth that she so desperately needed to stay alive.

Heaving her onto his horse, Robb sat behind her, supporting her unconscious form with his arms and keeping her against his chest. Her head tipped backwards as Robb urged his horse into a canter along the road to Winter Town, the crown of her head resting just on his shoulder.

The girl remained unconscious for the duration of the ride. Robb knew that his task was time critical, and as desperately as he wanted to take her to Maester Luwin, he knew that he had little time. His knowledge of Winter Town was pitiful, and unfortunately the only place that he knew would still be open at this time was the brothel. Robb had no desire to place this girl in the company of whores, but he knew he had little alternative.

Despite being late at night, the brothel was as busy as ever. Robb had dismounted from his horse and once again took the girl in his hands, marvelling at her miniscule weight which he knew couldn't have been healthy, and held her close to his chest, turning her head towards him and away from the goings-on of the brothel, as if he was protecting her.

Ros recognised Robb immediately, and upon seeing the near-dead, bloodied girl in his arms, ushered him into a private, unused room and lit the hearth.

Robb didn't know how long he sat in front of the fire, the girl's head in his lap as he kept watch over her. Her skin slowly became warm to the touch and her breathing became regular. Her cheeks reddened and flushed, but she did not awaken. It was only when Ros knocked on the door, entering the room with a bowl of steaming hot soup, did Robb finally look up from her face.

"You should return to Winterfell, m'lord. I will take care of the girl," Ros offered. Robb wanted to decline, he wanted to stay with the girl until she awoke, and then learn everything about her, who she was and why she was alone in the woods at dusk. But he knew that if he did not return to his home soon, his mother would not allow him to leave Winterfell for a week, burdening him with any task she saw fit.

Reluctantly, Robb lifted the girl's head from his lap and placed it on the the furs he had gathered for her to rest on. Ros took his place by her side, telling him of how she would provide the girl with new clothing and tend to any wounds. Robb nodded thankfully before taking his leave, knowing sleep would not come easily to him that night.

The girl's name was Kaina.

She awoke just as the sun began to rise from the horizon, and in her confusion willingly gave over her true name to Ros. Ros did not need the girl's confirmation to know that she was running from something, and she was not foolish enough to ask. She had seen the scar that ran down the girl's back when she had laced up the back of her dress for her, she had caught a glimpse of the angry red mark on her thigh, surrounded by bruises and dried blood, as she had stepped into the bath that Ros had prepared for her. Ros was curious, but she was also scared to know the truth of this girl's past.

And Kaina was not about to divulge it either. She had run hard and fast from the Dreadfort, and she didn't intend to be sent back. She would not return, not willingly. She would never return to Ramsay Snow.

Do let me know what you think!

I've been working on this slowly for about a year now and I've finally gotten round to posting it. I figured I ought to post it before season 8 is complete (which, by the way, I'd love to discuss with anyone who's watching it currently). My two favourite men to write about from GoT are Robb Stark and Jaime Lannister, who I have another fic in the works for if anyone is interested.

It'd be nice to have some feedback before I post the first chapter so please leave a review. The next chapter should be up within a day or so regardless. Just a word of warning however, this story is rated M for a reason. The OC goes through both sexual and physical abuse (as most do in Ramsay fics), so if you aren't comfortable with that you may wish not to read any further.

Thank you for reading!