A/N: I used to write fic, many moons ago. Now I'm back and using this as an excuse to avoid other things. Not sure how many people still dig RobbxOC fics but I've got some angst for you all. This story takes liberties with both the GOT show and ASOIAF books, neither of which I own and will be canon divergent in several ways. This is a story about first love, friendship, and how small choices can have forever consequences. This story is told in multiple parts, the first of which takes place in my OC's youth and follows her journey from there. Prominent characters: House Royce, Robb Stark, Harrold Hardyng, Aegon Targaryen (Rhaegar's eldest son). I hope you enjoy.
Memories of Winter
By Juliet McKenna
Prologue
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Winter had come, as promised.
Grey-blue waves crashed against the shore, icy water kissing her bare feet and the hem of her gown. Numbness crept over her, overcast like the grey clouds overhead. Snowflakes and cold wind brushed against her freckled cheeks.
Hot tears slipped from her swollen eyes as her fingers clutched the wrinkled parchment beneath her shaking fingers. The lump in her throat grew with every staggered breath. She pressed her open palm to her stomach, the round protruding lump peeking out beneath her cloak.
"Alone again," she whispered, fingers stroking her stomach.
She held back a strangled sob as her eyes gazed out towards the muddled horizon. Her knees buckled beneath her, pulling her violently to the ground. She pulled the worn parchment to her chest and the harrowing cry poured from her lungs.
"Why?" she pleaded as she gasped for air. "Have you not taken enough?"
Had she sacrificed enough? Perhaps not, she thought. Perhaps this was the punishment designed by the Old Gods and the New. She had strove for too much, sacrificed too little. She'd once vowed duty before love. That vow had been far too easily broken.
She pulled the letter from her breast, smoothing the crumpled paper so she could see the refined penmanship spelling out her name.
Morwenna. She could almost hear his voice.
Her eyes slammed shut, more tears spilling from the creases. It was the voice that haunted her dreams. Years of dreams turned nightmares as she longed desperately for the reality of that sound. Not the half-memory of it. A voice might be easily forgotten, but the memories were forever ingrained into her veins. Every touch imprinted onto her flesh. Long nights and cold winters. Words filled with the ache that still lingered in her bones.
She'd once read about her ancestor, about Ser Willum Royce and his sword, Lamentation. Now, at that moment, she knew why the sword bore such a name. The Royces had lived on this land since the First Men, their blood and bones soaked the shores of the Vale since before the Andals landed. As her knees sunk into the icy wet sand, she thought for a moment she could disappear beneath them too, her bones wedded to the land like the ancient Royces before her.
Lamenting yet another loss. Possessed by grief that had long cursed her bloodline.
The Royce family words sang through her as her gaze spilled over the letter she'd read a thousand and one times before. Since the moment she'd sworn her heart to him. Her unofficial vow. The ache in her soul was not just punishment, but a forever keepsake.
The words rang through her again.
We Remember.
"I remember," she whispered.
She would never forget the circumstances that guided her from the neatly planned path of her youth. Once, long ago, before the war and ruin, she smiled and laughed. Once, long ago, before the loss and broken promises, she'd loved.
Once, long ago, before the song of ice and fire, she'd lived.
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