Quick Author's Note;
So I know I already have another GOT story but I couldn't help but make another one! This one, however, is a Robb/OC. It takes place a good few weeks before the first series starts and is, of course, rated M for safety reasons. Link to OC's appearance is on profile and again I do not own any characters you may recognize except my own OC's. This story does not clash with my other one.
Anyway, I really hope you enjoy this fic. Please Review, Fave, or Follow if you can! It would mean a lot. Thanks!
Chapter I
It was a cold day in Winterfell. Then again, it was always a cold day in Winterfell. Emily couldn't remember a time when it hadn't been at least a little cold. They'd had their Summers, but their Summers were nothing like the one's they had in the Capitol - or anywhere else for that matter. Sometimes she even longed for the warmth that was constant across the Narrow Sea. But Emily knew she'd never feel it. Her life was here, in Winterfell, the land of ever-lasting cold. Even when they had warm weather, there was always that small breeze that meant they'd have to wear an extra layer of clothing just to stay warm. It was either that or risk freezing to death, or worse, getting ill. It was easier for those in Winterfell Castle, they had their Maesters and warm beds to ensure they didn't come down with anything. They had beds with fur blankets, large heaths to warm up their rooms, hot springs underneath the Castle to keep it warmed, and a warm breakfast every morning. At least that's what Qetsyiah had told her. She'd told her that compared to their own homes, the Castle seemed bigger than the one in the Capitol itself. Not that they'd ever seen it of course. Their lives were forever bound to Winterfell and their families. It was just the way things were.
Emily brushed through her long brunette curls, braiding two strands back into her hair so that it didn't fall into her face completely. It made working easier. Her father was a pig farmer, her mother a servant in Winterfell Castle, while her brothers, only six and seven years, were too young to do anything. Not that her father hadn't tried. He'd attempted to teach the boys the ways of their farm but they refused to listen, instead deciding that they'd much rather spend their time playing Knights or Warriors. Emily wished to be that young again. To be that age where you were old enough to understand a little, but young enough to still have hope. After many years of seeing nothing but her farm, Winterfell, and the Godswood, she slowly started to realise that getting out just wasn't an option. Unless she was lucky enough to find a wealthy man willing to marry her, there was no getting out for her. But even if she did, it would just be a different kind of entrapment.
She tied the dirty-white apron around her waist and left the bedroom she shared with her two brothers. She looked out of the small window and found her father tending to the pigs, as usual, while her brothers ran around with sticks larger than themselves, most likely playing yet another game. There weren't many jobs around Winterfell for women. The castle was full of handmaiden's and servants, so they didn't need anyone. The only other well-earning job in their small village was the Whore-house. And Emily was grateful that her life hadn't dropped to that level of desperate...not yet anyway. Her tasks were mainly going into the market for bread. With her father being a pig farmer, they rarely ran out of meat, which she supposed was a good thing.
"Emily, where're you going?" Her father, otherwise known as Isaac, asked her.
"I'm going to see Qetsyiah." Emily replied after a moment's hesitation. It was no secret that her father disliked the girl, mainly because she was a lot wilder and free-spirited than Emily could ever hope to be. But she was also a lot more confident and sneaky, and these traits always somehow managed to get them both into trouble. They'd never done anything to result in being seen by Lord and Lady Stark, thank the gods, but it was safe to say that many villagers and occupiers of Winterfell weren't too fond of her friend.
"Shouldn't she be working in the Castle?" Her father asked, though it was more of an irritated mutter towards himself. Emily sighed and rolled her eyes slightly; Playing piggy-in-the-middle with her father and best friend wasn't how she thought her life would've turned out.
"She's not needed today. I promise I'll stay out of trouble." She reassured him, placing one foot at the bottom of the wooden fence and leaning over to peck her fathers cheek. The man smiled at her action but shook his head, knowing full well that her promise would not be kept. Not while she was with Qetsiyah anyway.
"I highly doubt it." He muttered.
Emily smiled and wiggled her fingers as a slight wave before turning and walking the path towards the Winterfell, making sure not to disturb her brothers as she did. She'd disturbed them once, only to tell them that dinner was ready, but it had resulted in her being chased by the two children while they held very long sticks. Emily could only thank the gods that they couldn't run faster than her, or that day would have turned out a lot differently.
As usual, she found Qetsiyah waiting for her at the gates to Winterfell. The girl smiled as Emily approached her and Emily had a small feeling Qetsyiah had something up her sleeve. She knew that smile and she also knew that it usually meant trouble. She couldn't really remember how her and the mischievous red-head had become friends. All she faintly remembered was boys, a running Qetsiyah, falling to the ground, and a throbbing headache that didn't leave for days.
"You came!" Qetsiyah exclaimed happily, throwing her arms around the younger girl. Emily returned the gesture, but with a little less enthusiasm.
"As always." Emily replied, a nervous smile crossing her face. "What are we doing today?"
"I have exciting news, but first we have to wait for Demetrii."
"No need to wait!" The boy himself announced, running up to them. Demetrii had come a long a good few years after Emily had met Qetsiyah. His mother had died when he was only a babe, while his father had decided to grieve by turning to drink. But now it was eighteen years later, and the man was still fond of his drink. Which is why Demetrii spent so much of his time with them.
"So, what was this news?" Emily asked Qetsiyah, crossing her arms to block out the cold. Unlike many of the Castle's occupants, they didn't have long cloaks made of wolf fur to keep them warm, they had to adjust.
"As you know, today is the name-day of our very own Robb Stark," Qetsiyah squealed, a little overdramatically in Emily's opinion. "There will be a feast and masquerade bonfire held tonight at the castle to celebrate-"
"Bonfire? Outside? Qetsiyah it's freezing outside, are you sure you didn't mishear something?" Emily cut her off, raising her eyebrows in slight disbelief.
Qetsiyah narrowed her own eyes, but instead of disbelief it was out of annoyance. "Yes. I heard correctly I never mishear. Besides, with enough wine and with a large bonfire they're bound to warm up. Anyway," She giggled, bringing herself back around to the topic they'd been on. "Only Lords and Ladies have been asked to attend, along with Lord Starks family of course, but we are also going to attend."
Emily's eyes widened considerably at the news. Sneak into the castle to attend a celebration they'd not been invited to? This had to have been Qetsiyah's worst idea yet, and she'd had a lot of bad ideas. If they were caught who knew what'd happen? Surely they wouldn't face death for such a silly thing, but they'd be punished none the less. And Emily had a feeling her father would be less than pleased with the news.
"That sounds fun!" Demetrii exclaimed, sharing Qetsiyah's enthusiasm. Emily, however, had other things in mind.
"You're joking? Please tell me you're joking." She pleaded, staring at her best friend with a hopeful look on her face. Surely Qetsiyah couldn't be serious?
"I'm not joking. It'll be easy to get in, there'll be so many Lords and Ladies that no one will know who's who!" She said as though she'd come up with the cleverest plan in Westeros.
"And what do we do when we're in? The Starks will know we're not blood-related or nobles." Emily pointed out. Qetsiyah merely smiled in return.
"I thought of that. It's a masquerade celebration, Emily, all we have to is throw on a well-carved mask to hide our faces and we're safe and sound. We just have to make sure to stay away from the Starks." She explained and Emily had to admit, it was a well thought out plan.
"That is a good idea." Demetrii spoke up, rubbing his chin in thought.
"Yes but what do we wear? I can't exactly go in this," Emily threw out, gesturing down to the dark-green dress she now wore. It had a little rip at the bottom and some dirt along the sleeves from where she'd been helping her father.
Qetsiyah stared at her in deep thought before clapping her hands together and smiling. "You can borrow one of my dresses!"
"Um...I think not." Emily replied, earning a childish pout from her friend. While Qetsiyah's dresses were rather pretty, they were also lower cut than Emily would've liked. They were plain, but not so plain that the Starks would question their wealth. Her friend must be well paid for working in the Castle.
"What's wrong with my dresses?" Qetsiyah exclaimed defensively, looking down at the dress she now wore.
"Nothing!" Emily rushed out. The last thing she wanted was to get into yet another stupid argument with her friend. Qetsiyah could be very defensive sometimes, especially when it came to her choice of clothing. "It's just...they're not exactly the kind of dresses I'm used to." She finished, shrugging sheepishly.
"Which is exactly why you should wear it! No one will know it's you!" Her friend replied.
"Again, good idea." Demetrii said. Emily narrowed her eyes at him in annoyance; Would he ever chose her side in a conversation?
"And what would I tell father?" She asked, "He's not exactly going to let me out so late."
Qetsiyah smiled, "You go to sleep like the good little girl that you are. But when your house is sleeping, you'll merely sneak out and meet us here." She said, gesturing to Demetrii.
Emily attempted one last try at getting her stubborn friend to change her mind about this. "Masks?"
"I'll sort that out, ladies, leave it with me." Demetrii spoke before Qetsiyah could, but the girl seemed more than happy with the news.
"Good. So, I'll see you tonight?" Qetsiyah smiled, glancing at the two. Demetrii nodded enthusiastically but Emily tilted her head in worry, something her friend noticed right away. "Emily?"
Emily looked at Qetsiyah, then Demetrii, then back to Qetsiyah. Did she want to go? Yes. But she was scared; Scared that they'd get caught, scared that they'd get punished, scared that her father would be disappointed in her...there were so many reasons not to go. Her heart told her to go but her mind told her to stay home that night, to do what she always did. But despite everything Emily knew there was still that childish part of her that wanted to do what she wasn't supposed to. To break the rules and have fun doing it, and to not care if they were caught or not. It was this part of her that nagged her to say yes to Qetsiyah. And, unfortunately, it was this very part of her that won.
"I suppose I could go." Emily finally agreed. Qetsiyah silently cheered, a little squeak of excitement leaving her mouth. "But not too late, okay?"
"I promise, we'll be home before Sunrise." Qetsiyah told her, pulling her into yet another hug. But even though her friends were excited and happy to be attending, Emily couldn't help but be a little worried. Though another thought crossed her mind; Attending one party couldn't be that bad, could it?
