Disclaimer: I don't own Game of Thrones. I just started watching the show, so I apologize if I get anything wrong. Please be kind if something I wrong and tell me what. I am only about half way through the first season and I thought if this fanfic. Please enjoy!

I ran through the streets, black hair streaming behind me as me thin legs carried me farther and farther from the whorehouse. I could hear my mother's screams but I refused to look back. I wanted to see the palace. I moved quickly through the streets, occasionally startling a passing pedestrian. Guards barely noticed me as they patrolled the streets. I could see the castle gates up ahead. I ducked under a precarious stall, dodging towards the gates.

"Whoa there," a guard held his arm across my path as I was about to cross the portcullis. I pouted, stumbling back a few steps.

"Where are you going?" the other guard inquired, keeping his hand firmly placed on the hilt of his long sword. I pointed at the castle behind them. They exchanged amused looks.

"You cannot enter the castle. No public access," he explained. I crossed my arms angrily.

"But—"

"Tarrine!" I looked over my shoulder, spotting my mother running towards her.

"Is this your daughter?"

"Yes, sir. I am sorry, she got away from me," she explained.

"Hey wait a minute. I know you. You're one of Little Finger's whores, aren't you?" the other guard asked. She nodded, putting a hand on my shoulder.

"Don't call her that!" I shouted. The guards laughed.

"You have a kid?"

"Yes." My mother gripped my shoulders tightly and steered me away from the castle gates and back towards our home in the brothel.

"Momma?"

The dark-haired woman looked down. "Yes, darling?"

"Why can't I see the castle?" I demanded. The woman sighed, pushing the wooden doors of the concrete building open, heading across the tiny square within towards the apartments for the workers.

"No one is allow into the castle without an audience with the King," she explained, unlocking the room. I frowned, sitting on my bed.

"But why? Doesn't King Robert want to meet his people?"

"Of course he does, but the King is a very busy man and doesn't have time to see everyone," she replied, crouching in front of me.

"Kalie," a reddish-bond woman poked her head into the room, tapping lightly on the door.

"Baelish needs you. He says you're working tonight," she said.

"Okay Mhaegen," she said. "Tell him I'll be there in a minute." Mhaegen exited quickly, leaving Kalie kneeled before me again.

"Don't give me that look," Kalie begged, stroking my hair.

"Do you have to go work tonight?" I whispered. Kalie sighed and then kissed my forehead.

"I'll be back before you know it," she mumbled, keeping her lips pressed against my skin before rising. She strode out of the room, casting a final glance over her shoulder before closing the door behind her and locking on. I screwed her eyes shut and shoved my hands against my ears, trying to block out the sounds of people having sex in the building around me, pretending my mother was not one of them.

Ten years later…

I move through the dark brothel, listening to the moans and groans coming from behind each closed door. I grip my bag tightly, waiting for Little Finger to exit his brothel. I know his schedule perfectly. Every night, he leaves for a private counsel meeting as dusk falls, leaving his girls to work before returning about two hours later. I crouch against a banister, partially hidden behind a cupboard, watching Peytr Baelish move through his office carefully, grabbing the occasional paper and adding it to his load.

The brown-haired man finally exits, shutting the brothel door behind him. I count to ten under my breath and rise. None of the doors screech as if they are about to be opened and I rush to the front door. I edge the door open and look out. Little Finger is a few streets away and I can still pick him out in the crowd, disappearing into the dying sunlight. I move outside, slinging my pack over my shoulder and walk in the opposite direction. Passing carefully through Cobbler's Square, I pause at a local inn. I creep to the horse stalls around back, spotting the stable boy dozing in the hayloft. I grin and rush forward. The horse closest to me is a large dapple gray, staring at me curiously. It stays quiet as I lead it out and saddle the creature. I mount quickly and point the horse towards the city walls. I click my tongue and jab my heels into the horse's side. It leaps forward and charges down the main road.

I stay low on the horse's back until King's Landing is out of sight. I release a breath of relief and finally allows the horse to slow to a walk. The animal breaths heavily, sweat beading on its neck.

"Thank you, my friend," I say, patting its neck. The skin quivers beneath my touch. The Kingsroad stretches out before me, vast and empty. I pull a cloak from my bag, wrapping it around my shoulders as a cold wind develops, biting into my skin. I urge the horse to keep moving, hoping to find shelter before dark.

Night falls quickly on the plains. I doze in the saddle, letting the horse carry me forward aimlessly. I jolt awake as a troop of riders stampede past us, frightening my horse.

"Whoa there," I say, rubbing the gray horse's neck to calm up. A large building catches my eye up ahead. I smile, recognizing the Crossroads Inn my mother told me about. I continue a little farther up the road and leave the mount, returning on foot to the inn. The inn is settled on the banks of a river, hidden by trees and bushes along the banks. I take a few shaking breathes before entering. The main room is filled with bodies, primarily those of men. They are all dirty, tried, and drinking. I pull my cloak tighter around my shoulders as their eyes begin racing over my body. A middle-aged woman moves around the room, serving food and drinks to them all.

"Looking for something, girl?" the woman asks, passing by.

"Are you the innkeeper?" I ask.

The woman nods. "I'm Masha. What do you need?"

"A room for the night."

"Where are you headed?" Masha asks.

"Winterfell." The woman laughs, gesturing for me to follow. We move past the dining room and into a quieter part of the inn.

"What on earth are you going there for? A pretty girl like you is better off in King's Landing," Masha says. She unlocks a room at the end of the corridor, farthest from the stairs.

"I am not looking for work," I say softly to Masha's back as the woman disappears into the hall. I look around the small room. There is a single bed, a table with a mirror and chair and window facing the river. I sigh, dropping my things on the bed and light a candle on the table. It gives off an eerie glow as I remove a dagger from my bag. I sit toward, staring at myself in the mirror. My long locks fall well past my breasts, almost to my hips. Little Finger didn't like his girls cutting their hair and even though I didn't work for him, I kept my hair long too. I hold the blade up, inspecting it closely. With a deep breath, I grab a handful of hair and start sawing.

After twenty minutes of arduous sawing motions, I look down. A halo of black hair surrounds me. My arms ache and my hands shake violently. I throw the knife down and then dare myself to look in the mirror. I gasp, almost laughing at my appearance. My dark brown hair sticks out at odd angles, some portions longer than others from my uneven cutting, but looks like a man's. Placing the knife on the table, I smile faintly, gingerly running my fingers through my hair. It feels strange, light as though a heavy burden has been lifted.

I strip off my dress, folding it over in my arms, shoving it back into my bag. I remove a set of men's clothes, stolen from Little Finger's closet. I take a long strip of cloth, binding my chest tightly before pulling the shirt on over it. I yank on the breeches, tying a belt around my waist and then look at myself in the mirror. I roll my eyes and pull the waist jacket over my arms and close it snuggly over my chest. I replace the knife in my bag and crawl on to the bed. I rest lightly atop the covers, trying not to disturb them. I stare at the ceiling, tracing the cracks in with my eyes. My eyelids grow heavier and heavier until they close and I drift to sleep.

My eyes fly open. Dawn is rising and I need to go. I grab my things, smooth out the bed covers and climb out the window. I have no money so I flee down the road, spotting my mounts hidden in the trees. The horse continues to graze as I sprint towards it, jumping into the saddle. I snap the reins and the horse leaps forward, carrying us down the road. Winterfell is still days away from where I am, but I keep kicking at the horse to move forward. I need to reach Winterfell. It's my last hope.