A/N hey guys, just a small heads up, I added an extra A/U wife of Walder Frey's, so now he is married to his ninth wife, not his eighth.
Chapter 1
The small lake was right where she remembered it being. In the middle of the small patch of trees, largely hidden by their thick trunks, it was a wonder they had found it in the first place at the mere age of eleven. The clear water glistened against the warm sun and Avariella closed her eyes and enjoyed the breeze that shifted through her thin gown. She placed the large towel on the ground beneath her and gently began to remove her boots. The ground beneath her was covered by a thin layer of dry grass and she watched as Max rubbed himself playfully against the grass, his panting loud.
She nearly smiled at the sight of her large, dark brown dog that was feared by many throughout the twins rub himself against the grass without a care in the world. Once her boots had been removed, she placed them carefully behind her and undid the clasp of her cloak, folding it neatly and placing it on the towel. She was left in the thin gown she had always used to swim in, though she regretted not wearing something warmer as she stood there rubbing her elbows. The sun warmed her skin and that propelled her to move forward towards the edge, where they would jump off into the water, screaming with joy all the while. The memory warmed her heart before the sadness that lingered reappeared once more, making all signs of joy disappear within her.
She closed her eyes tightly and let herself get lost in her memories. Avariella could almost taste the joy on her tongue, the excitement her younger self had felt running into the lake with her brother. She remembered how her brother had held onto her little hand tightly and urged her to jump with him. She could hear the ghost of his laughter ringing in her ears, could picture the look on his face as he looked up from her from the water and yelled, "Come on Ava! Get in the water! It's not cold, I promise!" He had been lying of course, the water had been freezing but to him it hadn't mattered. It hadn't mattered to her in the end either.
What one of them did, the other did as well. If one got sick, so did the other shortly after the first had been nursed back to health,— often by the healthier one— if one of them jumped off a cliff the other would follow. That was how it had always been. Avariella and Avos Frey, the twins of the Twins.
At least until Avos had died.
Her eyes opened at that and she felt as though a bucket of ice had been poured over her head. She looked down at the glistening water, that was clear as glass and titled her head at her reflection. A pale face littered with light freckles at the top of her cheeks and large hazel eyes that were said to be identical to her mothers. A thin nose graced her face as well, with a pair of thin, pink lips and high cheekbones. Her hair tumbled down to her waist, wild and wavy as it had always been and still as red as the day she was born. Or so she was told, anyway.
Avariella snapped her gaze forward to stare at the other side of the lake, her reflection forgotten. She closed her eyes and clung to the quietness of the forest. From here she could hear the trickling of the Green Fork, could hear the distant murmurs of the twins. Yet it all seemed so far away in this little world of hers, a world where no one could reach her.
Avariella closed her eyes, took a deep breath and jumped.
The walk back to the Twins was a short one, and she stopped in her tracks to stare at the East Castle, feeling resigned. She had once longed to leave the twins, had dreamt of escaping the horrible and suffocating people that lingered through its halls and yet now, she did not care for the rest of the world. Her sense of adventure had died with her brother it would seem, all those months ago.
Max barked at her to grab her attention and she scowled, before moving forward, her damp hair soaking through her cloak. The difference between the two areas was striking but Avariella had grown used to it by now; The Twins was everything her little spot was not; Her home was loud every moment; never sleeping, every moment drowned out by the sound of the river. Its people were violent and crass, and its halls stunk of sex and mead at every corner. Yet, Avariella knew the Twins itself, without the people in it, was a striking sight. Alas, the Frey's were there alright and they would not leave.
She entered the east castle quietly, her head hung low as she moved down the hall towards the steps that led to the upper floor where her chambers were. She caught a glimpse of Max trailing behind her and stopped in her tracks, turning towards one of the guards.
"Please escort Max back to the Kennels," she instructed him, "Feed him as well, the Kennel master shall instruct you as to what to feed him."
The guard nodded at her and whistled softly, grabbing Max's attention. Max cast her one look to check whether or not it was alright and she nodded her consent, watching as he immediately bounded after the guard, his tail wagging behind him.
She climbed the steps to the long, crowded corridor that contained most of the females chambers in the castle and sighed loudly, before carrying on down the hall. She heard whispers and giggles echoing from inside their rooms and to her disgust; moans in some of them, making her cringe. Her family had never been one for subtly, she would give them that.
She opened the door to her chambers and closed it quickly, leaning against it. Her heard felt as though it were drowning in her chest, the weight of it dragging her to the ground to the deepest of the seven hells. She removed her cloak numbly, dumping it on the floor with the towel and shrugged off the white, thin gown that clung to her skin, hidden from view because of her cloak. She stood there, nude and barefooted, the cool stone beneath her feet causing her to shiver. It was far too warm outside for her to light the hearth and so she tiptoed around her chambers to search for another dress to wear. She dressed herself slowly, doing the fastenings of her black gown. She had not called on her handmaiden Arra in a year and she did not plan on changing that anytime soon.
There was a quiet knock on her door and she jumped slightly before saying, "Come in."
The door opened loudly and Arra came into view.
"I heard you came back from your swim my lady," she said awkwardly, not meeting her eyes, "I was wondering if you needed any assistance."
Avariella looked at her for a long moment, her gaze soft yet piercing all at once. A hint of sadness crept into her eyes before she said softly, "That is quite alright, Arra, thank you. However, if you would please take those—" she gestured to the wet pile on the floor, "for washing I would be most grateful."
Arra nodded meekly, bending down to grab the pile of clothes in her arms before saying, "As you wish, my lady."
She left without another word.
Avariella sighed loudly when she left, her heart tender in her chest. There had once been a time where Arra was the closest thing she had to a mother, even though she was only five years older than her. That time existed no longer, and the era of braiding hairs and exchanging whispers of tall knights was long over. And with it, there relationship had withered until they were nothing more but strangers with history. Her doing, she knew, yet Avariella could not bring herself to rectify the situation, unsure if she even wanted to.
She brushed her long hair for a while, brushing it until every last strand hand gone dry before placing the wooden brush back on the stand. Avariella briefly wondered whether or not she should stay there for the rest of the day, but she felt her stomach grumble loudly and with a reluctant sigh, she made her way down to the great hall for supper.
If one found the Twins loud during the day while the Frey's were scattered all over, nothing would compare to when they all gathered each evening for supper in the great hall. Most of Walder Frey's offspring— those who weren't there were either lucky enough to leave the Twins or dead— sat next to each other randomly. Girls sat with boys, bastards sat next to true borns; they were all like a heard, a very, very, loud heard of sheep. Both laughter and raising voices filled the room and Avariella watched those around her with a blank look on her face, sipping on her soup in silence.
Those who sat next to her ignored her, gossiping and whispering amongst themselves without a care in the world. She glanced up at her father every once in a while, trying her best to disguise her disgust with him pawing at his new wife whom looked younger than she. She knew it would make no difference whether or not he saw her looking, the day her father stopped bedding every woman with a pulse was the day he died. Regardless of whether or not his children or anyone else was watching, Walder Frey fucked as he pleased. A sentiment a lot of his sons seemed to inherit, she noted as she glanced towards a corner in the room, where one of her many elder brothers was grabbing a wench's bottom.
Not Avos, her mind whispered, never Avos.
She glanced back down at the lumpy soup in front of her and she suddenly had not felt less-hungry in her life. She placed the spoon down with a clatter, ignoring the startled and annoyed looks sent her way. She rose from her chair, causing it to scrape back against the floor loudly. None of her other siblings noticed, except one. She caught Roslin's eye for a moment and she stopped moving, her hazel eyes meeting Roslin's brown. Roslin quickly looked away from her, her cheeks flushing at her being caught staring. It had not been the first time Avariella caught her elder sister staring at a few seats away, and she knew it would not be the last.
"Leave me alone!" she had yelled at her all those months ago. All I want is to be alone. . . Roslin had looked close too tears after she had yelled at her, yet Avariella did not care. She still could not bring herself too. She turned on her heel only to be bump into Maester Brennet.
"Apologies, Maester," she murmured, steadying herself, "I had not seen you."
"It is no fault of yours," he told her kindly, a smile forming on his plump mouth. When he smiled it was as though his great double chins stretched along with him, though Avariella had grown used to the sight over the years. She looked down at his hands and caught sight of a small, sealed letter and frowned, her eyes meeting his.
"Who is that from?" she asked.
The Maester shifted uncomfortably under her gaze before replying," I must tell—"
"My father first," she finished sighing, "Of course."
He gave a smile before moving towards her father. Avariella had turned to look at the pair now, as had several others and she watched as an expression caught between being triumphant and insulted appeared on her fathers face as he ripped open the seal. The room had gone silent, everyone waiting for the inevitable wave of their father's fury, or grandfathers, depending on the relation.
Avariella had stiffened so tightly it was as though she were a block of wood. She studied her father's sickly features, waiting for the lines of fury to come, for the vein near his neck to become glaringly more apparent with his rage. It never came. Instead, a loud, booming laugh echoed across the quiet hall and Avariella frowned deeply and took a few steps closer towards her father.
She waited patiently until he was done laughing and it was then that the familiar smirk she knew graced her fathers wrinkly face. Yet she could see the anger under the surface in those watery eyes of his and was alarmed at the fact that he did not voice it. Wait for it, she told herself, just wait.
"The King in the North wishes to right the wrong he did on our family," her father managed to croak out loudly, taking a sip of his wine, "Now that the war is over and the Dragon Queen is on the Iron throne, the Young Wolf wishes to marry one of you lot," he gestured towards a group of girls sitting near the front of the long tables, "To his uncle, Edmure Tully and," he added ungracefully, "he wants to take another one of you up to Winterfell with him, to marry one of his Northern Bannerman and for one of your offspring to marry one of his children."
"What?" she whispered, unable to feel anything around her. Bile rose in her throat and a panic so deep grew in her heart she had not thought herself capable of feeling so strongly.
"My lord," she called out loudly, aware of all the eyes in the room now on her, "Surely you mean to refuse? Robb Stark insulted our house—"
"I am well aware of what he did girl," her father snapped at her, annoyed at being interrupted, "Do you think I should refuse you half-wit? I don't see any other suitors coming up to our door asking for your hand, I am not blind! The King has won the war and now wishes to make amends for the wrong he committed. One of my grandchildren will either be a prince or a Queen, depending on the sex of the first babe one of you bares your Northern husband. One of my other daughters will become Lady of Riverrun that is far better than any of you could ever hope for, girl."
"He is an oathbreaker!" she cried out, her voice rising, "He married a foreign healer—"
"What happened to you girl?" her father demanded, looking at her over his overly long nose, "You used to be one of the more bearable ones. Now your dumber than that dog that's always near you! Now shut that hole in your mouth and be thankful that I let you keep your tongue!"
A shot of ice sprung up Avariella's spine and a hatred so deep grew in her stomach she felt as though she were on fire. She shot her father the dirtiest look she could muster, before turning on her heel and storming out of the room, ignoring the glances sent her way. Her strides were short and fast, her heart pounding loudly in her ears as her blood boiled in her veins. She could feel a scream rising within her and it took everything in her too keep it in and then—
A sharp tug on her shoulder that caused her to turn around, her chest heaving with anger.
"What?" she snapped angrily, glaring at Olyvar.
Her older half-brother winced at her tone, before grasping onto her hand gently before she quickly snatched it away, the hatred in her eyes growing stronger.
"I just wanted to see if you were alright," he told her softly, his brown eyes concerned.
Avariella's anger quickly began to evaporate as she continued to stare at her half-brother and she felt a twinge of guilt in her chest.
"Thank you," she told him gently, "It's just that . . ." her voice drifted off into a whisper, the despair and grief in her eyes growing stronger by the moment."He's dead," she whispered softly, her eyes wide, "He's dead and that man doesn't care. His own father. . ." she gulped loudly, the lump in her throat too large for her to speak.
Olyvar's eyes were filled with understanding as he looked at her and said, "You know father. . . that's. . . that's just how he is—"
"Is that supposed to make it better?" she asked him incredulously, taking a step back away from him.
"I—"
"Don't," she snapped, her eyes becoming unreadable, "Just don't."
The day that the King was too arrive came by painfully slowly and Avariella spent most of that time in her chambers, watching the changes be made from her window. She watched as guards shuffled around and servants scrubbed the floors to prepare for the royal visit.
Only the King, his mother, his wife and both of his uncles were coming with them to the twins. It was said that the King's sister returned to Winterfell the moment the King in the North and the dragon queen stormed King's Landing. Sansa Stark's marriage to Tyrion Lannister— the only living Lannister besides Myrcella and Tommen— had been set aside and now they were both free. At least, if the stories were true.
Avariella had once wondered how the eldest Stark was like— how he looked like, what he liked doing. . . That had been in the beginning of the war, after the marriage pact had been made. She had wanted to leave the twins and if that meant marrying the Lord of Winterfell, then so be it. But then he became the King and all desire she had ever had to marry him had vanished. She was no queen, she knew this the same way she knew how to breathe. A lady, she could be and a dutiful wife and mother but a Queen? She had never cast it much thought, to her shame. Now, whenever Robb Stark was so much as mentioned around her she felt as though she were to be sick.
Each day leading up to his arrival was brutally long, and yet when the day finally came she felt as though no time had past at all. She had woken that morning drenched in sweat, heart heavy in her chest. She had changed into a plain brown dress with some embroidered vines and pinned two strands of her hair from the front of her head back. She looked awfully plain— easy to overlook. Just as she wanted.
She exited her chamber reluctantly and was immediately thrown into a noisy corridor, some of her remaining sisters and nieces talking excitedly amongst themselves. All of them were dressed in elaborate clothing and hairstyles and Avariella knew she was severely underdressed. Shirei and Roslin glanced at her from where they stood, talking too each other before they both quickly diverted their eyes.
"Why are you all sitting out here?" she called out.
Most of them shrugged at her uncaringly and she huffed in frustration, before pushing through the large group to exit the hall through the door, immediately taking a large gulp of air. She could hear their murmuring through the door and with a scowl she bounded down the stairs, her red hair bouncing on her shoulders. Down below was hardly better than upstairs, with all the servants moving about to get everything in order, her brothers moving around the area like hunters and she felt so constricted she made quickly for the exit.
It was raining lightly when she made her way outside but she didn't care. Anything was better than the chaos inside. She glanced up at the sky, to the dark grey canvas that would have seemed so dark and endless if not for the sun threatening to break through at any moment. It seemed the rain would not last long. The river beneath them had never sounded so loud to her before and she made her way to the bridge so she could look down at it. The water seemed faster than usual as it poured down, almost as if it were trying to escape their impending guests. She smiled at the thought and wished so very much that she could just take a horse and go, leave this place before any of them came along. Her hatred towards the Stark was like the river, strong and endless, with no sign of stopping anytime soon.
The rain eventually came to a stop, causing her to glance up at the sky to where the sun had began to break through the darkness. It was then she heard it. Her head snapped towards the west castle so fast she feared it would snap and though she could not fully see them, she could hear them. Could hear the distant cries of The King in the North and the sounds of horses and men. Her heart dropped in her chest and just as she moved back to re-enter the castle to go to the great hall a voice cut over her.
"My lady," A servant said— Willem, she thought his name was, she wasn't sure— "Your father has asked me to bring you to escort the King and Queen to the east castle—"
Has he now? she thought bitterly.
"If you could please follow me," he finished, looking slightly unsure of himself.
It was a rare occasion to find a boy unsure of himself near a girl in the Twins and so even though she loathed the idea with every part of her being, she nodded limply and began to walk to the other side of the bridge, towards the West castle.
The west castle, though usually quieter than the east due to majority of Walder Frey's offspring residing there, was now alive with laughter and the banter of men. Stark Banner's were littered all over the castle, though she could see some Frey banners peaking out from the corner of her eye. They moved past all the men gathered around in the castle, towards the great hall.
The burning feeling in her stomach began to uncoil itself and spread within her like a disease. Calm yourself she thought, grasping her hands together. It did little to ease her nerves and her stomach began to flutter, making her feel as though she were about to be sick.
The great, wooden doors that led to the great hall opened and they moved in slowly, as though they were about to approach a boar. Directly in front of her stood a group of people and the moment she caught sight of the renowned auburn hair of House Tully she quickly kneeled, and could hear Willem beside her do the same though less gracefully.
They had caught the groups attention now and she could see a pairs of boots shuffle closer towards them before she ducked her head even lower, so that she was staring directly at the floor.
"Rise," a young, deep voice said.
Avariella insides clenched at the sound but slowly she rose and spoke softly, "Your grace, Lord Walder Frey has asked as to escort you to the east castle where he awaits you, unfortunately his poor health prevents him from greeting you himself."
She lifted her head too meet his gaze and the burning feeling flared dangerously within her, yet she was careful to keep it buried beneath the surface. The rumours of Robb's Starks good looks were not wrong, she grudgingly admitted to herself. He was a tall man, with a lean yet muscular build hidden under his armour and fur cloak. His hair was curled a top of his head and long as well, hanging low on his forehead. It was the Tully colour she had heard about and with a quick flicker to the side she caught a glimpse of his lady mother. His cheekbones were high and his nose fit his face well but it was his eyes that caught her attention. They were the strongest shade of blue she had ever seen in her life, not watery like her fathers or cloudy like some of her brothers, but a strong, unwavering shade that could capture any young maiden's heart, except hers.
"Thank you for your hospitality," a kind, female voice said and Avariella dragged her gaze away from Robb Starks to stare intently at the beautiful female next too him. With her long, brown hair that was pulled into a firm braid and tanned, smooth skin with a pair of warm brown eyes, it was not hard to see why Robb Stark had fallen in love with her.
"House Frey thanks you for coming, your grace" she replied, and her voice sounded stiff even to her ears. She could see the servant boy cast her a wary glance from he corner of her eye, yet she made no move to make herself sound more welcoming.
Her gaze flickered around the room to find one more woman,— Catelyn Stark, she assumed, whose grief made her look even more beautiful than that one time Avariella had caught one, small glimpse of her all those years ago— there was an older man there as well, with long greying hair and a long, solemn face, though his eyes were the same shade of blue as King Robb's. The Blackfish she realised, and her heart clenched tightly in her chest as she remembered how her brother had once admired him so greatly, swearing to her to one day become as great and as well-known as him. A younger man stood next to him, who still had an indignant scowl on his face. With his auburn hair and blue eyes, Avariella knew she was staring at Lord Edmure Tully. Their gazes met across the room and the scowl on his face dimmed slightly, his mouth opening into a gape.
"My lords, my lady," she adressed them, her voice soft, "It is a pleasure to see all of you are well after the war, House Frey prayed greatly for all of your safe returns." That was a lie, and judging by the slightly amused glint in the Blackfish's eyes they knew it as well.
"Are you a daughter of Lord Walder Frey?" the blackfish asked, his voice gruff.
Avariella cast a small glance towards Lord Edmure, before nodding slightly, "Yes, my lord, I am one of his seven remaining true born daughters still living at the Frey's."
The look the blackfish sent his nephew was one of both disgust and triumph, as Lord Edmure's unappeased face brightened considerably as he stared at her. Avariella tried very hard to not snap at the older man, carefully masking her annoyance with him. Yet she was undeniably amused, the Young Wolf wished to make amends by forcing his uncle to marry a girl far too ugly for him to ever marry.
"Your name?" King Robb asked gently.
Her hazel eyes flickered towards his as she replied, "Avariella, your grace."
It was becoming more and more unbearable to keep up her polite facade so she quickly suggested, "Shall we make our leave your grace?"
He nodded at her solemnly and it was in that moment that she saw a flicker of surprise in his blue eyes, one that made the rage within her flare under her skin. The moment was gone the moment he saw that she had seen it, and so he looked away from her towards his wife. She was indeed one of the most beautiful women she had ever seen, that was undeniable.
She quickly turned on her heel and made her way out of the hall, not checking whether or not they followed.
"Your grace," her lord father croaked from his seat, leering at the group. Avariella was now standing near the back of the group of daughters gathered near the front of the room, though she still had a clear view of them all. She remembered the wary glances that had been sent her way when she had entered the great hall, almost as if they all were expecting her to come back with their heads in between her teeth. Lord Edmure kept on looking at them with a poorly concealed look of horror on his face. Avariella studied Roslin out of the corner of her eye, who was staring at Edmure intently, a flush rising to her cheeks.
I would have been doing the same a year ago, she thought dully, the lump in her throat growing.
"Lord Walder," King Robb replied, his blue eyes firmly placed on her father, "I wronged you during the war and I wish to attempt to seek amends. Your house served me valiantly during the war and I repaid that kindness by dishonouring our agreement. If you would be so kind as to allow me."
A servant came with a tray of bread and salt and offered it to the group.
"My honoured guests," her father droned, "Be welcome within my walls and at my table. I extend to you my hospitality and protection in the light of the seven."
Once their guest right had been sealed, Robb Stark continued on, "We thank you for your hospitality, Lord Walder. If you would allow me to apologise—"
"It is not me you should apologise too," her father interrupted rudely, "It is too my girls."
King Robb studied them all silently, his blue eyes unreadable. Lord Walder gestured his hands for them to move into a single line and Avariella moved slowly behind Roslin, turning to face them.
"One of them was supposed to be Queen," her father continued, "And none of them are."
The fire in her veins grew as she stared at the group in front of her intently, her jaw tightening as she bit on her cheek in order to keep herself from yelling at him.
"That is the eldest of my daughters Wyona," her father croaked from behind her. Avariella glanced down the line to look at her eldest sister, who had jumped frightfully at the mention of her name. King Robb apologised to her gently, yet the words that fell out of his mouth sounded as though he had spent hours rehearsing them. Her father continued on down the list, introducing his granddaughters—some of whose names she did not even know— and then went back to his daughters. Waldra, whom looked as though she would faint if she so much as looked in his direction, Gerna, Marianne, another Waldra and then to Roslin. At the sight of her Edmure's face brightened so considerably it was though someone had just offered him all the gold in the world. And then, he landed on her.
"My second youngest daughter, Avariella at age ten and seven, your grace."
Avariella looked the King in the eyes and hated. She hated the mere sight of him with a passion so strong she did not bother hiding it. She hated him and he knew. Damn him, she thought and just as he opened is mouth to offer his insincere apologies she snapped. In that moment she did not care for curtsies or being polite or unnoticeable, all she cared about was hurting him.
"I had a brother," she said, her voice limp and dull sounding. Her hazel eyes fluttered up to meet his and the hatred she felt boiling in her belly was unlike anything Avariella had ever felt before. It burned her insides as though she had swallowed a ball of fire and the savage urge she had to rip his heart from his chest was only matched by her grief.
"A twin," she clarified, letting out a loud breath, her eyes growing hazy as she thought of her brother, "He was my whole world and he died in your service, your grace." Her eyes flickered towards the Queen and her hatred grew even stronger, though she had thought it would not be possible. Her mouth tasted of bitterness and sorrow and the words that exited her burned her tongue.
"I begged him not to go," she said, her voice catching with emotion at the memory. Robb Stark looked as though he were ashamed and the feeling that shot through her was one of great satisfaction.
"I begged him not to. Don't go, I told him, for I fear you will not come back. Why die for a man who you barely even know?" A bitter laugh escaped her lips as she met his eyes once more, "Ahh, he told me, for one of you will know him and become his queen. Possibly dying for my future brother would be a worthy death would it not?" Avariella shook her head, her anguish evident on her face.
Hatred blinded all other thought as she stared at the man, at the King and the words that exited her lips may have well been daggers for how sharp and painful they were.
"You made his death worthless," she told him, her voice empty, sad tears forming in her eyes. "You made him nothing more than a—" Her voice caught with emotion and she wiped angrily at her eyes, "I will never forgive you," she vowed, "Never."
"My lady I am sorry—"
"Don't," she said harshly, raising a hand to prevent him from speaking. Damn him she thought viscously, her hands curling into fists, Damn him being a King. Damn his home, damn his brothers and sisters, damn his crown. Just damn him.
"Save your apologies for someone who wants to hear them," she spat at him, "Oathbreaker."
He winced at that, as did the Queen. His lady mother however, looked both outraged and pitiful.
A hand curled around her wrist and she looked up to see Black Walder pulling at her wrist, his face pale. She cast one last glance towards the King and his Queen and muttered, "Excuse me, your grace."
The room was deadly quiet as she left and Avariella needn't look at her father to know that he was outraged. The little she had seen from her sisters and brothers had been looks of shock and pity, as though they did not know whether to cry, laugh, or warn her to stop. They left the hall then and by the time the doors closed behind them her wrist began to throb because of Black Walder's grip.
"Your hurting me," she murmured.
"I don't care," he snapped at her, his face red with fury, "Do you have any idea the damage you've caused?" he asked her furiously, "The chances of him wanting to marry one of us to one of his uncle are even lower now because of you—"
"His uncle?" she asked incredulously, "Father mustn't be too happy with that—"
He slapped her hard on the mouth, her head snapping to the side. She could taste the blood from her lip, her cheek throbbing. She raised a hand to cup her cheek, her hazel eyes cold as she looked at her older half brother.
"Perhaps that will snap some sense into ya!" He spat at her, his eyes nearly black with fury.
She didn't answer and instead merely looked at him, her eyes blank. He shifted under her gaze, a flush rising on his face, "Go, wherever it is that you go in your spare time."
She fled from him without a glance back, her heart pounding in her chest. She grabbed a hold of her skirts and ran as fast as she could out of the castle. She brushed past servants and soldiers and yet she did not stop. She felt as though her heart was trying to rip its way out of her body— as though her grief were too strong for it to handle.
She didn't stop until she had reached the apple orchard and she fled down a row of trees, ignorant of the startled glances being sent her way. She did not stop running until she had reached the end of the orchard, towards their tree.
Her heart ached so strongly in her chest as she looked at it and she collapsed against it, a sob leaving her mouth.
She hated the King for winning the war, she hated the Dragon Queen for taking the Iron throne, she hated her brother for leaving her all alone but most of all— above all, she missed him more than she knew how to live with.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she thought of her brother, of her twin brother and though he died a year before her grief had not lessened since the day she found out.
Avos, she thought dully, Why did you leave me all alone?
She sunk onto the damp ground, her red curls tumbling down her shoulders.
Like the colour of the apples we grow, he had told her once, grinning. The thought nearly made her smile. Avos had been her other half, all the members of the Frey household had always joked about them being two sides of the same coin, inseparable since they came out of their mother's womb.
Look at us now, she thought bitterly, one in the grave rotting and the other a living corpse.
Sadness seeped through her at the thought and the tears streaming from her eyes did not stop. This place had once been a haven for her and her brother, a place of adventure and dreams. A place where they could forget who they were— where they came from— who they came from and simply be happy. Be able to smile and laugh and dream of a life with a father who loved them and with siblings who weren't bastards and murderers and rapists or foolish girls who were dumber than a pig.
There they could simply be happy but it didn't feel that way anymore. She glanced around and felt as though the tree's were closing in on her, trapping her inside a cell, to be alone and cold for the rest of her life. The orchard that had once been an escape now served only as a ghost for all she had lost.
Yet she did not move from under the tree, she sat there until her tears ran dry and the ache in her chest dimmed ever so slightly. What her brother had said before was only partially true; Not only was the King there to help his uncle chose a bride, he was also there to take a daughter of Walder Frey up to the North with him, where she was to be married off to some Northern Lord and her daughter or son would be married off to one of his own children, depending on the sex of the babe.
The Queen had been with child before, if the whispers were true, but she had apparently lost the babe due to stress and since then it was said that they did not want a child until the war was over.
Her mouth tasted bitter when she thought of the Queen and though she did not want too, a silver of shame formed in her stomach, burning her cheeks.
You simple minded fool she cursed herself, What in all the seven hells are you doing? You rude, insolent little girl.
She had always prided herself on being a polite girl, with better manners than most of her siblings yet when she had insulted the King she had not cared of her curtsies or her manners. Guilt hung heavy over her head, her siblings—while most were rude and uncouth— some were sweet and kind and her heart twinged with shame at the bad thoughts she had of them. Roslin, she thought sadly and Shirei and Olyvar were kind and well, bearable. Even now, after all this time.
They had all been very close growing up, despite them being half siblings. Avos and her had been born too Walder Frey's seventh wife, a daughter of a minor Lord of the Riverlands who Walder Frey had impregnated while his sixth wife was still with child— Roslin— and wed her quickly after Bethany Rosby died. She did not remember her mother, for she had died birthing her and Avos, something her and Roslin shared in common.
Roslin and her had shared a close bond, closer than she shared for any of her other sisters but nothing to that of which she had with her twin. Olyvar was her favourite brother besides Avos, with his passionate and loyal nature and Shirei, the youngest of her sisters, who possessed more kindness in her little finger than half of her siblings possessed in their entire body.
They had all been fiercely close, comforting each other and raising Shirei as best they could before Avos had died. That had changed everything for them. When Olyvar and Avos had ridden off to war with Robb Stark her and Roslin had discussed the worry both of them felt at the loss of their two brothers.
Pain burned her heart as she remembers their conversations in the middle of the night in darkness, hushed whispers of frightened terrors of dead brothers and marriage to a man they did not even know. Her and Roslin were the better looking of their sisters— that had been told to them since they had been old enough to walk—yet Avariella had never really cared for it.
It was something she accepted and was admittedly grateful for, that she could not protest. Her father was a disgusting man— she knew this as well as she knew how to breathe— and though she loved him, she knew his features were not attractive nor welcoming. Nor would their name grant them any favours with the other Lords and their prospects of marriage due to the Frey's renowned looks and manners.
Roslin was said to look like her mother, with her thin, pale face and doe like brown eyes and brown, thick hair that tumbled down to her waist. She was pretty, that was undeniable. Avariella felt a sliver of hope fill her heart and she hoped that Edmure picked her to be his bride. If anyone from their family could be the lady of Riverrun, it was Roslin.
Avariella knew she had blown her chances the moment the words had left her mouth and for that she was grateful, if not slightly disappointed deep down. The thought of being Edmure Tully's bride would have once made her happy— because not only would she have a decent husband, she would also be able to leave the Twins— the thought now made her cringe in disgust.
Avos's face drifted into her head and her heart clenched tightly once more causing her to gulp loudly in discomfort. I miss you brother, she thought, her heart heavy with grief. It was the only thing she was sure of anymore.
A/N Hi guys. . . this story was not supposed to happen. I am currently supposed to be studying but I took a break or two and this happened. Lol okay but anyway, i hoped you guys liked this. Tell me your thoughts in reviews or PM. Thanks again!