Wicked Winds of Winter

A story set in the ASOIAF universe about grief, rage, ugly emotions and even uglier thoughts. And, of course, some sexy things as well.

"
Lady Liyana Vance's mother died in early spring. She was only fourteen, but it was the last time Liya ever felt like a child.
She remembered the days leading up to it as clearly as if they had been to her own death, and in many ways, she much considered them so. The life she had lived before, and the girl she had been during it, died alongside her mother, and Liya entered a state of consciousness as though surrounded by a constant cloud of silvery, suffocating mist which followed her around everywhere she went. A cloud of sorrow, sometimes, but more so one of anger, of dread and of bitter yearning. It would take many years for a light, a single shard of heavenly light in the form of a boy's sunburnt arm and calloused hand, to penetrate Liya's cursed cloud. An arm which, in due time, would bring its own complicated and destructive emotions into the cloud; but more on that later.
"

If I make a mistake in English please don't correct me, I have no respect for this language.