This story is based in a slightly AU Winterfell, were Ned never left for King's landing, and Jon never left for the wall. Kithrin is my own character, and i own none of the characters used from George R R Martin's world.

I;m not completely sure if i will continue this story, i shall wait for you to state your opinion, but know that i do have a plan if it so happens i do continue.

Enjoy!

Prologue

I despised the feeling of flour between my fingers. Like sand, I hated sand. It was so rough, and coarse. It got everywhere, and was impossible to rid yourself of. And it wasn't the only thing that I hated that was hard to get rid of. Before my mother died, she used to warn me, against men. She would say that I was beautiful, and that it shouldn't stop me in the world, but that I needed to be careful. And so I continued kneading the dough in my hands, trying profusely to ignore the eyes I could feel roving all over my body. Someone entered the kitchen, whispered something to his friend and a yell went up. I paused, not wanting to look around, because I knew what it was. I knew it was me. I closed my eyes, taking a deep breath and willing myself to ignore it. My fingers found the dough again and my rhythm resumed, raising a sweat on my brow. Without warning, I felt a hand on my waist and the next second I was facing my father. His breath was on my face, and his hands were on my breast and it was all I could do not to scream. He pulled me from the room, leading me by the wrist, making me endure the torment of the hands of the men around me. Every woman in the room stood and stared, not moving to help, watching silently, with pain in their eyes. I did not blame them. If they made a move to help me, they would be as hurt as I was about to be. My father continued too pull me along, squeezing his hand tightly around my forearm, making my eyes water with pain. The passage came to an end in sunlight, but he didn't lead us out. Instead he turned and pushed me against the wall, fumbling with the lace of his breeches and holding me against the stone with his knees. His face was inches from mine, so close it was a surprise he could not taste the salt as tears ran freely down my cheeks. I let out a dry sob, and his hand slammed against my face, covering my mouth and pinning my head against the wall. My head swam as it throbbed from the impact. He seemed done with his breeches and I closed my eyes as he pulled at my skirts, raising them above my waist. I tried my hardest to be somewhere else, to imagine this was not happening that I was dreaming. I tried to imagine Winterfell's Godswood, the steaming pools, the times I had sat there, watching Robb pray silently, and then slip out of his clothes revealing his toned figure…watched as he slipped into the hot water…saw the muscles of his back tighten and relaxed as his body got used to the heat of the water…

All that was gone though, as my father thrust into me. This wasn't the first time this had happened, but the pain as he started to pulse back and forth was unbearable. I tried to cry out, but his hand tightened painfully around my jaw. My chest heaved with emotion, the tears not slowing. He grunted as the pace quickened, until he convulsed, spending his seed inside me. I tried to control the impulse to run as he pulled out of me, stepping back and wiping a hand across his mouth. He re tied his breeches, stopped to look at me for a moment, and then he was gone, and I was alone. I waited a minute, to make sure he didn't want to come back for more before sliding down the wall and letting the sobs echo around the narrow passageway. I wrapped my arms around myself, burying my face into the wool of my sleeve. Slowly, I came back to myself. Legs shaking, I stood, holding the wall for support. I heard footsteps approaching and began to walk as fast as my weak legs would carry me, in the other direction, towards the light, wiping my face on my sleeve, trying my best to dry my face. A hand grabbed my wrist from behind and I gasped and span, only to see Mag, a fellow cook. She looked at me, and then enveloped me in an embrace. I held myself together, trying not to show how much he had hurt me. She pulled away.

"It will be over soon, just think about that" I nodded, and she was gone. I understood her briskness, knowing that if her absence was noted, they would know where she was, and that could not be allowed to happen. I straitened myself, setting my skirts in order and then clasped my hands in front of me and made my way to the light. I could hear the sound of people sparring in the yard and my heart dropped. Robb was most likely out there, with Jon. I could not bear for Robb to see me like this, but if I stayed here any longer, one of my father's friends would find me. With a deep breath, I stepped out into the sunlight. Robb was in fact out there, as was Jon. Robb was currently stood with Bran, adjusting his brother's grip on a tourney sword. Jon was stood leaning against the wall…right next to the arch I need to walk through. I took another breath, and walked straight towards it, keeping my face low. But as I strode past, I glanced over at Robb, remembering my time in the Godswood and then remembering my father…

A stone appeared before my foot and I was on the ground before I realised what was happening. I cried out, my hands slamming the ground to soften the fall. The rough ground grazed along the heels of my hands, making them sting and shake even harder. The tears sprang free of my eyes again, running down my cheeks in frantic haste. A gentle hand took my by the shoulder and I looked up, hoping to see another cook, or a servant or anyone, but instead found myself looking up into the face of Jon Snow.

"Are you okay?" he asked, concern filling his voice. I looked around, my eyes finding Robb, who had looked away from Bran and was staring in my direction, frowning. I felt my head nod, as Jon helped me to my feet. I tried to speak but the tears would not let me get a word out. a flush crept slowly up my neck.

"What's your name?" he asked, a hand resting on the top of my arm. I flinched away from the touch, only able to feel my father's rough grip.

"Kithrin m-Milord, I-I'm sorry" I couldn't take the pity in his eyes any longer and so I fled, running as fast as I could out of the practice yard, and up towards the castle walls. I found the stair easily enough, and after a pause by the first guard I met, who passed me with a nod, I reached the top of the outer wall. Once alone I collapsed, falling against the grey merlons, gulping the fresh air into my lungs. I would have to go back down at some point, but for now all I could think about was the look on Robb Stark's face when I had run, sobbing, from the yard.