I actually can't believe the number of followers and favourites this story has gained! Especially since I've only posted the prologue! Thank-you all for the support. Special thanks to Chloe (guest), Tarias, Anna Katharyn, DarylDixion'sLover, Sadie22, ngome055, darkwolf76, ClTex, Calliope's Scribe, and to all that anonymous guests who left me such kind reviews :). All your kind words are very much appreciated, so thank-you!

Disclaimer: I do not own A Game of Thrones, or A Song of Ice and Fire.

Chapter 1

Estella woke up barely able to breathe. She jolted awake, gripping at her chest like her heart was about to tear it's way out. She was sweating but at the same time she was shivering from the cold and her entire body convulsed.

She struggled to breathe as she hastily tried to get air in and out of her lungs as she gasped.

Her entire night shift was soaked and sticky from her perspiration, and she did her best to calm her racing mind. Her body was freezing though, and she began to shake. At first she had thought it was because she had a fever, but then she remembered her nightmare.

The nightmare. Each year, on the same day, she would be cursed with having to suffer the nightmare that fuelled the fire to her fears. Every day on this year, she fell victim to the sadness that seemed to etched on her soul.

She feared she would always feel this way. Like she could never forget what happened. Her father had forgotten, and even her sister had seemed to forget. But she never did. How could she?

"Estella, are you alright?" Olive, her one true-born sister asked. She was twelve now, and she was growing more beautiful with each day. She reminded Estella so much of their father that it was almost uncanny.

Estella looked around the room, a bit disoriented and confused, but shakily nodded "Yes," Her throat felt dry and tight, and she had trouble swallowing, "It was only a bad dream."

She groaned and rubbed her hands with her face, trying to wake herself up. She skin was still cold and wet from the sweat, but she didn't care. She felt slightly sick, and she was physically drained from the awful dream she had just had. She laid back down in the bed and threw the covers over her head, trying to block out the sun that shone through the windows. She tried to fall back asleep, almost succeeding, drifting into the state where her subconscious and conscious mind seemed to melt into each other, when the door burst open and laugher filled the room.

She groaned again as her two younger half-sisters came racing in, squealing and laughing and jumping on all the beds.

"Estella, wake up!" Violet giggled and jumped over top of her. One thing Estella hated about growing up in a small farmhouse was there was never enough privacy. There rarely was a time she was ever left alone just to think. And although their property was huge, someone always seemed to be around.

Obviously, it was the consequence of her father having so many children. Undoubtedly, he was the reason why there was never a quite moment. However, he was dead set on having a boy, since it didn't seem like her Uncle Jory would be settling down with a woman any time soon and trying to keep to Cassel name going. All her father had for children was one step-daughter, and four other girls. She didn't think he had given up trying for a boy though, not since the two, Frederick and Harry, had both died before Olive had been born.

"Go awwwaayy!" Estella groaned and kept the furs on her bed close to her body, not wanting to get up just yet and wanting to have a few more precious moments of rest.

"Wake up, lazy!" Wendlyn's voice was heard in the mix. Together, both twins yanked on Estella's furs and got them off her. She shivered as she was exposed to the cold morning air and she curled up in the fetal position, hoping to preserve some of her warmth.

"Estella, you have to get up! Mother said we must get at the chores!" Wendyln's said excitedly.

Estella had long since stopped trying to convince the twins that Rita, the awful bitch her father married, wasn't her mother.

she would be excited for chores, Estella thought bitterly, knowing the girls had no clue what hard work was like. All Wendyln and Violet did for chores was collect eggs from their chicken, and chase kittens all day. Meanwhile, Estella and Olive along with the hired help had to do all the real work.

"Do you know what she wants me to do?" Estella asked, hoping to get specifics.

"I'm not sure. Perhaps something with the horses?" Wendlyn frowned, as though something had suddenly bothered her. "Father's not home. He said he would visit some time this week."

Of course her father wasn't at the house. Very rarely did he ever make an appearance. He was much to busy helping Lord Stark at Winterfell; but Estella figured that being there was just an excuse to get away. After her mother died and her father married Rita, he spent little time with his two daughters. Estella figured it was because they reminded him too much of happier times, and the memory was too painful. Estella had learned to not count on her father coming home very often.

After her mother's passing, her father took her and Olive, and they returned to the farmhouse where he and their Uncle Jory grew up in. It was a thirty minute ride from Winterfell at the most, but that was just far enough to ensure they never returned to the Keep in six years. And it also ensured that her father would often stay at Winterfell for days or weeks at a time, rather than coming home.

"He's never done this before." Violet agreed, "He's typically always here when he tells us."

Wendlyn and Violet, though they were fraternal twins, had extremely similar faces. Both girls were almost six. They had childish features, with their flat and skinny bodies. Violet was much taller than Wendlyn, and she was uncoordinated and lanky with her newly gained inches. She was forever tripping on her own feet or stumbling about like a drunkard.

Both girls had small brown eyes, lined with thick lashes. Violet had big bushy eyebrows, while Wendlyn barely had any at all. Other than that, the girl's faces looked the same. They were skinny and long, with jutted out chins, and they were graced with thin lips. They looked rather weaselly. Estella supposed it was the Frey in them. Rita was one of Walder Frey's bastard daughters, but her mother was a whore so she never lived at the Keep at the Twins. Obviously, the girls had the unfortunate Frey looks, rather than the Cassel, but yet when they smiled both the girls looked rather pretty and you couldn't even tell they slightly resembled a weasel.

They inseperatable, and where one was the other would not be far behind. She was ripped out of her thoughts as the girls chatted away about their dresses and if their braids looked adequate that morning.

Suddenly Olive came though the door, and Estella hadn't even noticed she had left the room. She had been so consumed by her thoughts that she completely forgot. Her sister looked at her and the smile on her fave soon faded when she saw the state Estella was in. "You're still not up?" she asked, noting Estella was still in her sweaty nightshift. Her hair was a mess, and she looked like she just finished having the plague. She seemed to notice then just how badly she truly looked. "You look bloody awful!" She gasped in horror.

Estella only moved her long, pale, legs to the side of the bed and rolled her eyes, "Thank-you, for the boost of confidence."

Olive pursed her lips together and then smiled "Well, what are sister's for? Now, let's get you looking like yourself again... Or maybe, slightly similar to yourself. Because with the state you look now, I figure that's rather unrealistic."

Estella stood up and sighed, "Yes, I suppose looking decent is out of the question today."

Olive smiled, "Oh, I'm only jesting. You always look pretty, Stella." She never liked people calling her Stella. Frankly, she thought nicknames were stupid and Stella was the worst. But she didn't mind it when Olive said it, just because she always said it so endearingly.

Estella didn't even notice Olive yank her on her feet and rip her gross and sweaty shift off of her head. Suddenly she remembered she was naked and the cold hitting her like a punch in the chest.

Both Violet and Wendlyn whispered about her breasts and hips, and how much of a woman she was and how they hoped to look like her one day, but it only caused Estella to blush. She wrapped her one arm across her breast, and the other hid her lower body to preserve her decency.

She had always been shy about nakedness and sexual instances, that it made her flush with embarrassment as soon as it was even mentioned. Estella had always been shy and gentle spirited, so it was not like her to talk about such things.

She didn't notice Olive's hands push her into the tub until she was submerged into the freezing water. Typically, to bathe she would go to the bath houses. But Isabelle and Rita demanded to have a tub be brought into their home after a couple years of living there. However, the tub was almost always cold. After four other people used it before her, it was freezing. Estella shivered and felt her blood turn to ice as Olive poured the frigid water over her body.

Estella felt her body turn to ice as she wrapped her arms around her legs and her teeth rattled from how much she was shaking.

"You know, it wouldn't be so cold if you were to get up earlier and beat everyone else to the tub." Violet pointed out.

Olive only chuckled "You're turning blue."

Estella begged "Just please finish so I can get out of this thing." Her long hair cascaded down her face and shoulders like a waterfall, and it left her shivering even more.

Olive seemed to notice Estella's mood, and she frowned. "What's with you today? You're not acting like yourself."

Estella said nothing, only picked at a hang nail on her thumb. She hoped from her silence Olive would clue on what day it was, and why she was acting so out of character.

"Oh," Her younger sister exhaled deeply, realization striking her. "It's today, isn't it?"

It was her name-day, the sixth anniversary of the day her mother died.

Olive only gave her a sympathetic smile and rubbed her shoulders "Sorry, Stella." Olive was clearly sad too. After all, she was her mother as well. But she was only six name-days when their mother passed, and so although she remembered a lot, the memory of their mother was brief.

She carried on helping her bathe, pouring the frigid water all over her. She ran soap through her hair, washing it out quickly. Estella's teeth rattled with every moment she sat in the cold tub. The frigid air brushed against her skin and she wrapped her arms tighter around her torso trying to preserve some heat. She hated the cold and always has. Her mother was from Pentos, and so she didn't have the blood for the cold North. She would much rather lay on a beach somewhere and soak up the sun's heat.

She would never have the chance though. She was born in the North, and she would die in the North. The closest she would ever go to a beach would be reading about them in one of her books.

Finally, what seemed like an eternity, Olive had finished washing her hair and Estella was able to get out and quickly throw on a robe and a shift. Still she was let shivering from the cold, but at least she was out of the water. Her fingers felt numb as she quickly dressed, and all she wanted was to crawl back into bed again and warm up, but she knew she needed to get started on her chores.

Estella was about to leave with her hair still soaking wet. But Olive stopped her and Estella was left in confusion as she pushed her into a chair. "Let me do your hair." Her sweet sister said with a soft smile.

"You don't have to, you know." Estella sighed but made no other protests against Olive's efforts.

"Of course I do," She stated "It is your name-day."

She ran a comb through it, bringing it from top to bottom, and then she had it so neatly combed that there wasn't a knot in sight. She then started braiding her long brown hair. Estella looked at her appearance in the vanity mirror. She long brown wavy hair that's usually had to be done up in someway or another because it became tangled as they day went on. She had high cheekbones, and freckles speckling all over them. Her eyes were nothing special, given the fact they were hazel. It was just a boring mix between brown and green, as though it were indecisive about which colour it really wanted to be. She had full lips too, that were the colour of berries but she was forever chewing and biting on it whenever she was nervous. She had a small nose that luckily made her face look proportioned, especially with what she thought was a big forehead. Luckily, none of her other sister's seemed to think she had a big forehead, so perhaps she was mistaken.

She was fairly tall, and unfortunately that made her slightly awkward and a bit clumsy. She was willowy, but not as graceful as she would have liked. She could barely stay balanced whenever she curtseyed. She had a thin body, with bellow average breasts, and slightly narrow hips. She thought she had a figure of a child, but when she actually looked at one she realized she was just over thinking things and she had more of a womanly body than she knew.

The door opened to the room and Isabelle, her step-sister, came in looking annoyingly smug. She took one look at Estella's bloodshot eyes and bags under them, as well as how tired she looked and Isabelle only snickered "Well, don't you just look awful. Honestly, you look absolutely pathetic!"

Estella only looked down at her hands and said nothing. She didn't want to start anything, and usually when someone said something like that to her she shut right up and didn't make a sound. Yet, in her head she was throwing back a hundred come-backs and insults back at Isabelle. However, she just didn't have the confidence to say any of them out loud.

"She's obviously just tired." Wendlyn shot back, and Estella almost had to roll her eyes at herself. A child was doing her battles for her, and there she was, a woman of twenty.

"We'll have her looking like herself and back to normal soon."

Isabelle only scoffed, "Well that's not much of an improvement then."

Estella bit her tongue and still remained silent as Olive continued to do her hair.

"Do you want to wear the green or the grey dress?" Violet asked.

"Grey, please." Estella said. The grey was nothing special, just a long sleeve woollen dress.

She quickly put on her dress, not wanting the cold a nippy air to wash over her body any longer than it had to. She really did hate the cold. Isabelle did her hair tentatively in the mirror, her eyes glancing at Estella every now and then. She didn't know exactly why Isabelle was always so hostile towards her, but ever since day one the two of them had been at each other's throats because of their indifferences.

They all seemed to notice what kind of a mood Estella was in. She usually was fairly quiet, but that day it was almost as though she was a mere shadow of herself. Olive gave her a sad smile, and it was then that she noticed the daisy behind her sisters ear. "Here," Olive took it from her own hair and placed in in her older sisters. Her large brown doe eyes light up as she set the flower in the perfect spot. She smiled, showing her vibrant white teeth, and she then squeezed Estella's shoulders. "Everyone should look beautiful on their name-day." And with that comment, Estella was able to muster a small smile at her sisters sweet words.

Thwack!

Robb dropped his dull tourney blade as soon as Jon's came in contact with his hand. He cursed in that moment as pain exploded, and he quickly tried to shake it off.

"Seven hells Jon!" He grimaced, gripping his hand hard and trying to ease some of the pain.

His dark haired bastard brother smirked like a smug little child. "Should have been paying attention."

Robb could hear Arya's laugher from where she was watching the two of them spar. She was sitting in the wooden post near by in a rather unlady like fashion and eating a juicy red apple she probably stole from the kitchens,

Robb shook his head, wondering what had gotten into him. He usually was so well guarded, he rarely ever let hits in.

"You seem distracted!" Arya called out "I could even beat you right now."

"Shut up Arya, or I'll tell mother you're skipping sewing to watch us." He snapped at her in rather hostile matter "This isn't a spectacle sport."

She only held her hands up in a surrendering matter, wondering what could have possibly gotten into her older brother. "Someone's in a bad mood," She muttered under her breath,

"She's right, you know." Jon agreed, noticing as well that Robb wasn't as focused as usual. "Where's you're head at?"

Robb only sighed, not saying a word. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, not wanting to actually vocalize what was wrong. Every year he had the same problem, and as more time past he felt as though it was silly that it still bothered him. Theon said to get over it. But then again, Theon didn't understand...

Realization dawned on Jon. "It's today, isn't it?" He asked him tentatively, knowing that Robb hated talking about it. It had always been a sensitive topic for him.

Robb nodded. He was silent for a moment until he spoke up. "It's been six years."

"I know," Jon looked at him sympathetically. "I miss her too, Robb."

There was no way Jon could understand what he was feeling though. Each year he felt the memory of her fading, and he hated himself for that. He had promised he'd never forget her, but as time went on he couldn't even remember her face. And obviously, seeing her father every day along with her Uncle Jory didn't help.

Robb hated that he couldn't remember her smile, or the way her hazel eyes used to sparkle. He hated how he couldn't remember her soft, sweet, gentle, voice. He hated that he couldn't recall the patterns her freckles were in, or how she looked with a light flush on her face. He couldn't remember how her soft lips felt against his own, and he couldn't remember how his heart used to race whenever she was near. To Robb she was only a distant memory. The only thing he could recall about her was the sound of her laugher. It was so melodic and cheerful, and it sounded better than any other sound in the world.

"Are you taking about Estell—," Arya started

"Don't." Jon cut her off. "Don't say her name... Not today." It was an unspoken rule that no one said Estella, Olive, or Genevieve's, name on this day. No one knew why, but it was like their ghosts haunted the halls of Winterfell still. It was as though they could hear Olive's sweet laugher through the keep. Or Robb could feel Estella's warm breath on the back of his neck. It was too painful for anyone to bring any of them up on this day, and for all of their sakes, as well as Percy and Jory's, no one brought them up. And although it was only Genevieve Cassel that died that day six years ago, it felt as though Estella and Olive died with her.

"Sorry," Arya pursed her lips together "I forgot."

"Six years..." Robb shook his head in disbelief. "How am I still not over her?" It wasn't like he was still in love with her. No, Robb was only sixteen name days back then, and he didn't exactly know what he was doing. But he had been crazy for her, no one could argue that. But the love had faded long ago. He had a few women since then, but none of them could make him feel like she did.

It was just hard to forget your first love. And besides, he had lost a friend that day as well. Estella wasn't just his romantic interest. No, she was his best friend. He told her everything, and she knew him better than he knew himself. It was like a part of him went away with her when she left Winterfell.

Jon didn't know what to say to his brother, he only stared at him and exhaled deeply. "You lost a friend that day."

"It's more than that," Robb shook his head "I was there the day she was born, Jon. I remember when I was two name-days old, peering into her cradle and seeing her for the first time." He almost smiled lightly, remember how she screamed when he first saw her. He recalled thinking she was an ugly little thing, but at the same time he wanted to protect her and make her happy so she would never cry and scream like that again. "Ever since I can remember we've been best friends, and I thought it would always be like that, then one day she was just gone... Like she never even existed." Robb needed some form of closure but he feared her would never get it.

"If Sansa were here she would say it's because you and Estella are soulmates." Arya stated.

If Robb was being perfectly honest, he thought the idea of soulmates was bullshit. There were no fixed two people the gods decided that belonged with each other. There was just people, and if someone was lucky they got the chance to marry the person they loved. But that was something all too rare, and one thing Robb never expected would happen to him.

"She's not my soulmate." Robb argued, "If she was, she'd be here right now." He wanted to add that if she weren't here he wouldn't be getting married to some high-class Southern lady that he never even met.

Jon seemed to know what he was thinking though. His brother knew him too well, and he knew the other reason why Robb was such an awful mood.

"You do realize father won't make the match unless you consent, right?" Jon had the nerve to smile in that moment.

"I can't believe he's even considering it." Robb stated in disbelief. There was rumours spreading around the Keep that Robb was set to become betrothed to Audra Tyrell, the cousin to Willas, Loras, and Margaery. Her lord father Lancel Tyrell was the younger brother to Mace. All of Winterfell had been preparing for their arrival that was to happen in a few days. Of course, Robb wondered if the rumours were true. And if not? What other reason would Tyrell's could possibly come to Winterfell for?

Jon smiled "Well if worst comes to worst and the match is made, as least you'll have a pretty bride!" It was known that Margaery Tyrell was one of the most beautiful maidens of then seven realms. It was also known that her cousin Audra was very close to taking that title from her.

Robb didn't like the idea of a Southern woman as the Lady of Winterfell though. His mother was Southern, yes. But the difference between her and the Tyrell's was that she was a Tully. Tully's always had a history of being a good house. After all, their house words was "Family, Duty, Honour". The Tyrell's?... Well, they were Tyrells, and not much more needed to be said besides that. They had a history of being very vain and prideful people. They spent too much money and Robb often heard from Sir Percy, who used to body guard for Lancel Tyrell, that they ran the Reach like a joke.

"I still don't like the idea of a Tyrell as the Lady of Winterfell." Robb almost shuttered that the thought. "Just imagine what it would be like around here." He couldn't her but smile at that.

Jon laughed "I'm sure your lady wife would make you forsake all your Northern furs for Southern silks in a heart beat. And not to mention, the entire North would be undoubtedly broke after one of the balls she would throw."

Robb couldn't help but chuckle, believing that Jon's remarks were true. "I'd take a good Northern girl over a proper Southern lady any day."

Jon's smile faded as Robb said that. "The only problem is," He raised his sword, preparing for their next round of sparring, "You might not have a choice."

And for some reason those words terrified Robb.

I know this chapter was kinda slow, but don't worry! Right now this is only setting the stage. I promise the next one will much more interesting.

Thanks for reading,

-Amelia

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