Okay, so I've had this plot bunny for a while now and it's stronger than the one I was previously working on so I thought I'd give this one a go. See how it works out. Obviously it's going to end up in an AU situation, which I'm still working on how exactly things are going to end up since this changes a whole lot. But, I hope I don't butcher things too much.

Seeing as how this is a GOT story, it's of course going to be explicit and deal with some rather mature subjects. I think the strongest one at least in the beginning is abuse and especially the aftermath of abuse. There will be smut, violence, deaths, all the typical stuff for Game of Thrones. So obviously if this bothers you, why are you even here?

Finally, I don't own anything you recognize.

Raya Bolton is tired of riding. It's a seven day ride from the Dreadfort to Winterfell and as much as she hates what's awaiting her there, the idea of being in a real bed with walls around her is sounding more and more appealing. She's never left the Dreadfort before, and now she'll never see it again. Not that she'll complain about that.

Her father is silent as he rides beside her, as he had been the past six days, only giving orders to the men accompanying them when needed. Raya doesn't mind that so much. She's always preferred the silence to Ramsay's incessant talking. Thankfully, he's harassing some guards further back in the line and leaving her alone. Since the death of her brother Domeric just two months before, it had forced her father to take on her half brother Ramsay as his heir. Domeric's death was also the reason they were currently riding for Winterfell. Raya had always figured she would marry a Karstark or an Umber, some lesser lord in the North. But then Domeric had died of some strange illness and now she's her father's only bargaining piece.

Why Lord Stark had agreed to her father's proposal of her marrying his son, she doesn't know. It's hard to imagine she's the only eligible woman worth anything in the North. The lone surviving woman of the Dreadfort. Perhaps that's why he had agreed. She had stayed alive for sixteen years in a place where women didn't last more than six. That's how old she had been when her mother had died of an illness. They had told her her mother had lasted longer than her father's first wife. She hadn't even made it four. Perhaps she shared her mother's strength, and that's what kept her alive for so long. Perhaps it's that strength that interested Lord Stark so much.

Whatever spurred his decision, she's glad she only has another month of seeing her father.

They stop to make camp well after dark. Her father had been pushing them harder that day, wanting to make good time. Six days of riding had been hard on Raya, and she hadn't been sleeping well. There's no lock on a tent door, and every little sound has her waking. She'll be glad once they're in Winterfell where doors lock and there are guards obeying someone else's orders at every turn.

"At this pace we'll reach Winterfell by midday tomorrow." Her father says, approaching her before she can retire in her tent for the night. "I will have you look presentable tomorrow."

She nods. "Of course, Father."

He grips her chin in his hand, pulling her face close to his. His eyes are empty, soulless. His face is a mask of indifference. He'd never looked at her any other way. He never looked at anyone any other way. "Get some sleep too. I won't have you looking sickly in front of your betrothed tomorrow."

She nods as he releases her from his grip. "Yes, Father."

She hurries into her tent, ignoring the gaze burning into her back as she goes. She doesn't bother dressing down for the night, curling up in the dress she'd been wearing all day. She clutches the dagger under her pillow, eventually drifting off into a fitful sleep.

She's shocked awake when she's doused with cold water the next morning. She sputters, sitting up and wiping the water out of her eyes. "Ramsay!"

"It's time to wake up, dearest sister. Father wants us to get moving soon." She wants to smack the smile off of his face. She'd only been around him for two months, since her Father had brought him in as his heir, but two months was more than enough time with him.

"Very well. I will be ready soon." The light in the tent is still dim, meaning the sun has only just risen. She stands from her bedroll, trying to push Ramsay from her tent so she can make herself presentable but he won't budge.

He grabs her by the arms, his grip like steel. "Wear your hair down. It suits you better." He pulls her closer, their noses nearly touching. She can feel his warm breath on her face and it sends a shiver creeping down her spine. "And wear the green dress. It makes your eyes stand out."

He finally releases her, leaving her tent. Raya stays where she is, holding her breath for a few moments to make sure he won't come back before she relaxes. Her stomach is in knots, not only from her encounter with Ramsay. In a matter of hours she'd be meeting her betrothed finally, after a month of knowing. She'd heard gossip among the serving girls at the Dreadfort about Eddard Stark's eldest son. She tries not to think too much about what they had said as she dresses. Unfortunately Ramsay had been right, and she chooses the deep green dress and pulls the top part of her hair back in a braid to keep it off her face, the rest she keeps down. She eats a small breakfast, afraid she'll get sick if she tries to eat anything more as her father's men finish breaking down the camp. They're on the road before the hours is up, the sun making its way above the trees.

Raya is glad for the silence as they ride. She tries to make herself calm, but she can't help the nervous jitters she's feeling. Her grip on her reigns is tight as she tries to steady her nerves. She won't show it on the outside though. She'll keep her head high and she won't make a fool of herself in front of her father. She still remembers the first and only time she ever did that. He had made sure she learned her lesson. She had Domeric then to help her. Now she is alone.

Robb has hardly been able to concentrate all morning. His betrothed is supposed to arrive in a matter of hours and he's not sure he's ready. He had learned about Lord Bolton's proposal a month ago and his father's decision to accept. He can't explain why his father had chosen the Bolton girl to be his wife. He knew it was time for him to take a wife, to make heirs and have a lady to handle the affairs of the house when he becomes Lord of Winterfell. He hadn't even known that Roose Bolton had a daughter. He had heard about Domeric and his death two months ago. But the news that Lord Bolton had another child was new to him.

"I can't imagine she'll be much to look at." Theon says from the sidelines as Robb and Jon spar in the training grounds.

"Maybe she'll surprise us and take after her mother." Jon says, blocking a blow from Robb.

"That might not be an improvement." Theon laughs.

Robb hardly hears the conversation. He's too busy thinking about their arrival. His future will arrive in a matter of hours and he doesn't even know if she's pretty or not. Many scenarios are running through his head, both good and bad. But a sharp blow from the flat of Jon's sword drags him from his nervous thoughts.

"You're thinking too much."

"Can you blame me?" Robb asks, parrying a strike.

"No. Just hope for the worst and everything else will seem better no matter what happens."

Maybe Jon is on to something. Maybe all he had to do was picture the worst in his head. For all he knows, she's expecting the worst too. What if he is the worst she could expect? He tries to push his thoughts down, steadying his nerves as he continues sparring. Just a few short hours and he'll get all his questions answered.

The fog has cleared by the time they reach the gates, Winterfell looming above them. She's used to castles but Winterfell is larger than she'd thought it would be. She keeps her composure as they ride in, the Stark family waiting for them in a line in the courtyard. She keeps her eyes down, knowing she may lose her nerve if she looks at them. She's eager to see if the rumors are true, but she knows better. She dismounts her horse behind her father, sticking her riding gloves in her saddle bag before following him over to the Starks. She stays a few steps behind him, keeping her gaze on her father's back.

"Lord Bolton." Eddard Stark shakes his hand. "I am sorry to hear about the loss of your son."

"Thank you, Lord Stark. Domeric was a strong boy. It is a shame he caught such an illness." He greets Catelyn Stark before turning to face Raya. "May I introduce my daughter, Raya."

Raya finally raises her head, looking first to Lord Stark. "Welcome to Winterfell, Lady Raya." He has a kind smile, and it looks foreign to her to see someone smile genuinely.

Raya drops into a curtsey. "Thank you, Lord Stark."

Eddard turns to his wife. "This is my wife, Catelyn."

Catelyn smiles softly at her. "It's an honor to have you here with us, Lady Raya."

Raya curtsies to her too. "Thank you, my lady."

She finally turns to look past Eddard, her eyes landing on the figure next to him. Eddard puts a hand on his shoulder. "This is my eldest, Robb."

He's not at all what she expected. He has a kind face, but he holds an air of authority around him. Even if she didn't know who he was, she could tell he's a Lord. There's a softness to his gaze though as he looks at her, stunning blue eyes meeting her own green ones. He's clean faced, his deep auburn curls smoothed down. She wants to run her fingers through them and muss them. He's easily a head taller than her, lean framed but strong. She can feel every resolve she'd had about him melting away as he smiles at her.

His hand is gentle as he takes hers, holding it like a delicate flower. "It's an honor to meet you, Lady Raya." He bends down, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. His lips are soft, light as a feather against her skin. It sends shivers running down her spine.

"The honor is mine, Lord Robb." She feels a small smile crack the composure she had dutifully held. The serving girls may have been wrong about a lot, but there's no doubt he's a threat to the walls she's worked so hard to build.

"You must be tired from travelling. Let me show you to your room." Lady Stark saves her from her thoughts.

"That would be lovely." She doesn't turn to look back as Lady Stark leads her away from the courtyard.

"I hope you will be comfortable here. I am sure it will be less of a change for you, being in the North still."

Raya finds herself smiling again. "I always knew I'd stay in the North when I married. I never imagined I'd be coming to Winterfell, though."

"In truth it was a shock when Ned agreed to your father's proposal. Robb had received plenty before, but Ned turned them all down until yours came."

"It was an equal shock when I heard about the proposal and that Lord Stark had approved. But I am glad to be here regardless of how it happened."

Lady Stark smiles at her, pausing to open a door. "We're glad to have you here. This will be your room until the wedding. I hope it's suitable."

Raya enters the room, taking it in. It's not much different from her room at the Dreadfort, but significantly warmer. She had felt the difference when they had entered the Keep compared to the Northern air outside. "It's perfect, my lady. Significantly warmer than the Dreadfort."

Lady Stark nods. "Winterfell was built on hot springs. It keeps the rooms warm no matter the season."

Raya nods. "Strategic. I do think I will like it here once I get used to it."

"I hope you do. Shall I show you around while your father's men bring your belongings up?"

She nods. "That sounds wonderful, my lady."

Raya takes Lady Starks arm, walking with her through the castle, trying to commit to memory where everything is located. This is her future home. She'll have to know it inside and out soon. Better to learn early. They walk until it's almost time for dinner, Lady Stark taking her back to her chambers to let her freshen up from her travels.

She takes a moment once Lady Stark has gone to breathe, taking a seat on the fur-covered bed. It's been a month and a week since she found out about the marriage arrangement and it had seemed like nothing but a dream. But now it's real. In a month's time she'll be a Bolton no more, the wife of the heir of Winterfell. She had prepared herself for a loveless marriage no matter whom she married. There had been no love between her father and her mother, and he had been sure to instill it in her she would not find love either. Marriages to handsome princes, falling in love, living happily ever after were nothing but fantasies from children's stories. Marriage is nothing but a duty to ensure Lords and Kings have heirs and their names live on for another generation. It would be her duty to ensure the Stark name continues on in Winterfell, her duty to bear Robb sons. No matter how much it scares her, she knows she must do her duties.

She changes into a clean dress, pinning her hair up in a more traditional Northern fashion. They had always reminded her she resembles her mother more than her father. Her dark hair, green eyes, her soft features. She's grateful for that. Her mother had been beautiful. Raya isn't sure she'd use such strong a word to describe herself. But she knows she's at least pretty. She'd been well reminded of that by the residents of the Dreadfort. She's too pretty for a place like that. Her looks are wasted on a place like the Dreadfort. Maybe her father should pledge her to a Southern lord.

She hated every one of them for speaking of her like that.

A knock on the door draws her from her thoughts and she puts the last pin in her hair before going to answer. She's surprised to see Robb standing on the other side, looking less formal than he had earlier. His hair has come out of its smoothed down state some, auburn curls falling on his forehead. At least he has hair, and decent hair at that. He still looks every bit a lord as he smiles down at her. His smile is just as kind as his father's.

"Lord Robb." She greets him.

His smile gets bigger. "Please, no need for formalities, Lady Raya."

She finds a smile tugging at her lips. "Then I must hold you to the same standards regarding formalities. Raya will do."

"I have come to escort you to dinner. My father has insisted on celebrating your arrival."

"Then I will gladly allow you to escort me for such a grand occasion." She takes his offered arm, letting him lead her down the stairs.

"We don't have many weddings in Winterfell. No doubt half the North will show up to celebrate."

"It is a special occasion. It's not every day someone marries the son of a great lord. At least that's the truth here in the North."

"Are you glad to be staying in the North?"

She holds back her grimace at his question. "Yes. The chain of gossip in the Dreadfort always thought my father would send me South to be married. They always said I was too pretty to be wasted on a Northern Lord."

"And what did you think?"

"I always thought it would be a Karstark or an Umber. But then Domeric passed and things changed."

"I am sorry for your loss. I can't imagine losing a brother."

"Domeric was always the more adventurous one. He had a big heart, but he wasn't always guarded about how he showed it."

"You think it has something to do with his death?" Robb slows his walk as they near the Great Hall.

"It would not surprise me if it turned out to be true." She answers quietly. She has her suspicions about his death as did her father. But neither would ever voice those suspicions without evidence.

"All the same, I am sure he would have made a great lord."

"He certainly would have changed things."

"Like what?" Robb glances down at her.

"Well, they call it the Dreadfort for a reason. Hard to grow into the title 'Lord of the Dreadfort' when your heart is bigger than your stomach."

Robb grins. "Are you going to miss your home?"

The sounds of a feast beginning are loud as they near the hall. Raya hasn't been to a feast since she was a child. Her father was not one for raucous celebration and preferred the quiet. She always preferred the quiet too, but she would not have minded a celebration every so often. She had been holding her walls up for so long perhaps being here she could finally learn to lower them.

"Not as much as I thought I might."