Chapter 8

Avariella grew up with the knowledge that the lifestyle her family lived at the Twins was not how most nobles lived. Most nobles had a clean castle that only stunk of mead and sex after a particularly nice feast. Their daughters and sons were almost always well dressed and well-mannered, or at least they gave off the appearance as being as such. The Twins were the complete opposite. No one cared about how anyone acted as long as it was not too bothersome, and even if someone did find another's behaviour bothersome, they could rarely stop them. The Twins was an overcrowded and overly loud castle that stunk of sweat and mead on a daily basis. And yet somehow Avariella found herself longing for the loudness as the silence of Winterfell echoed in her ears. She stood behind the King and Lady Catelyn and was able to see between the space of their heads. There was a small clutter of people in a formed line in front of them all with solemn, haunted expressions etched on their features.

Dear gods, she thought, resisting the urge to shiver. It took her a few moments to hear the sound of more people approaching, their footfalls ringing in her ears. She turned her head so that she could see who it was and caught a small glimpse of flaming red hair and pale skin. "Sansa," Lady Catelyn exclaimed, hurrying forward to hug her eldest daughter fiercely. Sansa Stark was as beautiful as the rumours claimed. Her bright red hair was a stark contrast to the greyness surrounding her, and her ivory skin was clear and unblemished. Even though Avariella was standing a few feet in distance away from the two Stark women she could see Sansa Starks eyes; they were some of the bluest eyes she had ever seen. Not the watery blue like Avos's or the Winter blue like the Kings, but the blue of the sky. She was one of the most beautiful people Avariella had ever seen.

The King moved to greet his sister as well and Avariella observed the reunion with a sense of detachment that swallowed her whole. That should have been us, she thought darkly, clasping her hands in front of her modestly, that should have been me, Olyvar, Roslin, Shirei and Avos. We should have gotten that. She didn't let herself feel bitter for long however, as she looked at the Queen out of the corner of her eye. The woman seemed solemn yet peaceful with a warm expression on her features. It was a great contrast to how her body looked. She was wrapped in numerous forms with warm-looking gloves gracing her hands that seemed overly large, as if they were gloves made for a man. Almost instantly, her hands became cold as she thought about how warm those gloves were—

"Lady Frey," Lady Catelyn called, looking at her expectantly. Avariella jumped at the sound of her voice, and realised that the Queen had joined the group however long ago and that they were all waiting for her to introduce herself. She resisted the urge to flush under all of their gazes, and instead moved forward, her footsteps ringing in her ears as she stepped on the pieces of stone beneath her.

She curtsied once she reached the group, bowing her head appropriately. "It is a pleasure to finally meet you Lady Sansa," she said, tilting her head up to look at her. "Sansa," the King spoke, "This is Lady Avariella Frey, she will be living at Winterfell for the foreseeable future." Foreseeable future, she thought, dread forming in her stomach, how am I going to survive? Lady Sansa blinked rapidly at her brothers words, as though she couldn't quite believe it. Or that she couldn't believe that she was a Frey. "It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Lady Avariella," Lady Sansa said, a hint of surprise in her voice. It made Avariellas' lips twitch with amusement. She had always known that she had been one of the more decent looking members of her family, but to see a member of a great house so evidently surprised and flustered to learn she was a daughter of Walder Frey amused her so much that she nearly had to bite down on her lip to keep from laughing. I took after my mother, she wanted to add, just to see Lady Sansas' face flush even redder. But there had also been another emotion lingering in Lady Sansas' eyes. It was one of instant curiosity and it was then that Avariella knew that she had heard of her first encounter with the King; where she had called him an oath breaker. Seems I already have a reputation to uphold, she thought grimly, clasping her hands together tightly.

She pressed her lips into a tight smile, the wind whipping her cheeks when another voice started, a male voice this time, "Your grace, my queen, Lady Catelyn, it is a pleasant surprise to see you both so soon. We were expecting you to arrive later." The voice came from behind Sansa and Avariella tilted her head to the side so she could get a glimpse of who it was. She frowned once she saw no sign of the man and it didn't occur to her who it was until Lady Sansa stepped to the side, revealing a man of such small stature he only came up to Avariellas' waist. Oh, she thought, her features lifting with surprise until she realised who it was. Oh, she thought, her features hardening immediately. The effect on her body was instantaneous. Her hands clenched into tight fists at her sides as she stared at the Lannister so intensely she thought her eyes would bulge out of her skull. Her jaw locked so tightly she could feel her teeth scraping against each other. Her brothers name was repeating itself like a prayer in her mind Avos Avos Avos Avos. Her legs cried out for her to move; to swing at him with all of her might, to scratch at his eyes, at his hair, at every single inch of him she could reach. To make him bleed like his family made her bleed. To make him hurt like her family made her hurt.

There was a difference between her hatred for the Starks and her hatred for the Lannisters; she hated the Starks because they made Avos's death worthless but she hated the Lannisters because they were the reason there was a war in the first place; they were the reason why Avos was at war in the first place. Every part of her body was screaming at her to move, to take action, everyone else be damned and she wanted to. She craved to.

But she didn't.

"Avariella," Olyvar whispered warningly, suddenly standing beside her. Max sat himself on her right foot, his familiar warmth a cooling presence. "Don't." She didn't have to ask him what he was referring to. Breathe, she told herself, slowly unclenching her fists, breathe. She met the gaze of the short man, meeting his mismatched eyes with a gaze so cold it could make someone shiver. She watched as he greeted the party with an intense gaze and when he finally reached her her body was nearly shaking due to her choking down her anger.

"Lady Frey," he greeted loudly, watching her with a curious expression. He also knows about you, her mind whispered, but Avariella was uncomprehending. "I am Tyrion Lannister, Lord of Casterly Rock. It is a pleasure to meet you." I hope you rot in the deepest of the seven hells. "Lord Lannister," she greeted, curtsying as she did so. She clasped her hands together tightly in order to prevent herself from clenching them into fists. "It is a pleasure to meet you as well." He nodded at her, an expression of amusement lingering on his features as he moved to introduce himself to Olyvar. Max was taunt where he sat beneath her, ready to pounce on the small Lord. He sensed her anger, her hatred, and the small shred of fear that lurked deep inside of her. Avariella turned her head to observe Olyvar and Lord Tyrions' interaction and she was slightly pleased to find that he seemed as unhappy to meet the man as she.

She wondered when he would want to talk to her again. While Avariella did feel guilty for what she had said—truly, she did— there were some small remnants of anger left within her towards Olyvar. How could he? she thought, how dare he think that? And how dare he accuse me of that when—

"Rickon!" The sound of Lady Catelyn's voice so loud made her snap out of her thoughts. Avariella looked around the battered courtyard, looking for the youngest Stark. At least she thought he was the youngest Stark. "Mother!" a small boy exclaimed as he ran to Lady Catelyn, wrapping his arms around her kneeling frame. She could see Lady Catelyn nearly fall back due to the sheer impact of him running to her, and it nearly made Avariella smile. The hugging pair eventually rose to their full heights and turned to face them.

Avos.

Avos.

She could feel her face begin to whiten as though she had seen a ghost. Her lips parted into a small 'o' as she stared straight at Rickon Stark, her heart pounding in her chest as everything came to a slow around her. How? she thought, her breaths turning shallow. It was as though her brother had risen from the grave. Rickon Stark had the same curls as Avos, the same freckles spread out on his cheeks. Their skin was the same shade. And their eyes— oh their eyes. They were identical. The same shade of blue. The exact shade. Her bones grew brittle and the fire in her veins began to die. All thoughts of anger or hatred quickly evaporated as she gazed at the little boy, her eyes stinging. She couldn't hate him. Not like she did the others. She couldn't.

Avos would not let her.

She could feel Maxs' body relax on her foot as a sound of wounded curiosity escaped his throat. She let out a shaky breath, eager to regain her composure as her hands began to tremble at her sides. Avariella watched with a shaken expression as Rickon Stark hugged his brother and shyly greeted the Queen, clutching at his mothers skirts as he did so. What happened to you? she thought fiercely, the trembling in her hands coming to an end. It wasn't simply shyness on the young boys face but fear also, and even though he was a Stark that did not stop the tenderness blooming in her chest, warming herself against the cold. It wasn't like the furious anger that had lit her veins on fire, it was more of a warm glow, like the sun rising. It was how she used to feel when she was with Avos.

Rickon seemed to shy further away when they began to approach her and Olyvar. Avariella saw another woman lurking behind Lady Sansa— a good distance behind her— with an intense expression on her face as she carefully observed Rickon Stark, ready to sweep him away if anything got too intense. Her features were unfamiliar, even for a Northerner, they were too wild, too ragged.

"Rickon," Lady Catelyn said, gently tugging him forward with her hands, "This is Lady Avariella Frey and her brother Olyvar, They will both be staying here in Winterfell for a little while." Go and say hello. Rickon took small hesitant steps in her direction, biting down on his lower lip as he took her in. Avariella met his eyes for a moment, and then did a move that surprised everyone around her. She crouched down so that she was at his height, and they were looking at each other face to face. "Hello," she greeted warmly, careful not to stare into his eyes for too long. Max made a noise of disapproval of the motion, as he had been shifted off the foot he was resting on. Rickons' gaze flickered over to Max, his eyes widening. "Is. . . is he yours?" he asked gently, a hint of unsureness in his youthful voice. "Yes he is mine," she agreed readily, "His name is Max."

"Max," he repeated, as though the word was foreign. "I have a dire wolf," he declared proudly, "His name is Shaggydog. My sisters thought it was a silly name but I liked it." Avariella smiled for a moment and responded, "I think its very creative." She then rose to her full height and curtsied, "It is a pleasure to meet you my lord." He smiled at her, bright and shining in a place full of grey, and her heart rose in her throat as she forced herself to nod. Her eyes glanced towards Olyvar and a small smile appeared on her lips as she noticed the similar expression of shock on his face. She gently placed her hand on his elbow to bring him back to reality. His eyes flickered rapidly before an unreadable mask settled over his features as he greeted the young Stark politely—distantly. Avariella frowned at him, taken aback by his aloofness.

"Now that everyone has been introduced," the King began, and it was then that Avariella took notice of the nobles surrounding them. Some she remembered seeing at the Twins and others she did not. But they all shared the similar Northern characteristics. It was difficult for her to explain but there was a minor visible difference between the Northerners and Southerners. She knew their lifestyle and culture was different but there was something in the way they held themselves, something in the way they looked that was different. That was foreign. Unfamiliar.

"We must immediately begin with the reconstruction of Winterfell. Since the Great Keep was destroyed during the Greyjoy's siege we will focus most of our efforts there and then begin with other structures—" Avariella lost interest after he began talking and instead she found herself looking for Rickon Stark. She settled her gaze on him, taking in the way he looked at his brother with open admiration and in slight awe. It made her throat constrict, seeing someone who looked so like her brother admire the one who made his death meaningless so openly—so strongly. It was wrong of her to feel that way she knew—it was even silly to feel as such— Robb Stark was Rickon Starks' brother after all.

Avariella began to look around the ruins of Winterfell once again, making sure to observe anything of importance. Majority of the walls were still standing tall around them, though the walls that separated the courtyards were mostly torn down, the rubble laying lifeless on the cold ground. They would have to rebuild the pavement with stone. Avariella felt slightly overwhelmed by the disaster around her, and tried to picture the Twins being so destroyed. It surprised her to find that the thought made her stomach knot together. She didn't hate the Twins, merely the people who lived in it.

Olyvar nudged her gently with his shoulder, alerting her to the fact that another man wearing Maesters' robes was speaking. The man was of the same age as Lady Catelyn, with grey eyes that could pierce anyone with a single look. His face was worn and crinkled, but unlike the other Northerners his face was warmer, more welcoming. It took her a moment to process what he was saying and when she did a flutter of excitement flooded through her. "Ravens have arrived from the Riverlands the day before, as well as a raven from the wall." She nearly ran over to him and demanded he hand it over at once.

"Later on in the evening, Maester," The King said, instantly lowering her hopes. She locked her jaw but accepted his words with a discrete gulp. Her eyes narrowed as she stared off into a distant far away spot, not listening to a word he was saying. Truth be told, Avariella did not know what she was supposed to do. She didn't particularly care to help the Starks—the thought made her flinch— but she did feel for the people of Winterfell in a way she did not expect. Avariella was not sure whether she could set aside her hatred of the people who ruled over them in order to truly, genuinely assist them. What am I going to do? she wondered, rubbing a cold hand against her throat.

It took a few moments for her to realise someone was calling her name.

"Avariella," Olyvar called gently, lowering his voice so only she could hear. Her gaze turned to meet his and she acknowledged him with a small nod, waiting for him to finish speaking. "You're expected to go with Lady Catelyn for the morning and then assist the Queen in the afternoon— you are to be her lady in waiting." Avariella had to hide her instant disgust and wariness at the news. "Lady in waiting?" she hissed, careful not to let the royal family hear her, "What in the seven hells am I supposed to do with her?"

"Help her," Olyvar replied simply, the crowd beginning to disperse at the moment the words left his mouth. Olyvar shot her a brief smile that did not quite reach his eyes and she knew—or rather it was reaffirmed— that not everything had been smoothed out between them. Her and Olyvar had never been the ones with conflict between them. Olyvar and her had been close as children but what Avariella had said a few weeks before was true; Avos was the brother that was given to her, that was a part of her. Olyvar was the brother whom she grew close to over time. It was different with her and Roslin; Avos was her other half but Roslin was her sister. There was a distinct difference between the two but that did not mean she loved Olyvar any less. It simply meant she was closer with the other two. Olyvar was to Roslin what Avos had been to her— not as close or connected, but they had been the closest Avariella had ever seen.

Her frown deepened when she caught sight of the Lannister and Sansa Stark moving across the broken courtyards to someplace unknown. Anger flared beneath in her skin but she was careful to hide it, and decided to shift herself so that she was staring at Lady Catelyn and the Queen instead. Rickon Stark had gone off to the wild looking woman she had spotted before but from the way she held his hand she knew they were close. Max nudged her knee with his head and she reached down to lay her hand down on his head comfortingly.

The Queen and Lady Catelyn were discussing something with each other fervently, their voices mere whispers. They were arguing, Avariella realised with a sudden beat and she had the sudden urge to pull them apart like they were children that needed chastising. She was all too aware of the eyes on them and for the first time— and what she was sure to be the last— she wished the King would return with his party of men. The two women tended to keep their hatred at bay whenever he was around. I thought the North was mean to be united. she thought, who were the fools that ever came up with such an idea?

Lady Catelyn nodded at something the Queen said before the Queen curtsied and moved to the group of people clustered in the opposite direction of them. The wind howled, causing her to shift the furs draped over her shoulders so that it better covered her throat. "You will be joining me for the first few hours," Lady Catelyn told her, repeating what Olyvar had said before. "We will be helping with the rebuilding of several courtyards and structures. We will oversee the reconstruction of the glass garden, the bell tower, the library tower and the Guards Hall. The King will for the most part oversee the rebuilding of the Great Keep and the Great Hall, though I suspect we will be assisting for most of that as well." Her voice rose as she spoke, so that everyone could hear her. "Fortunately, the Greyjoys left most of the walls intact and those that have been destroyed have since been rebuilt by you all. Thank you all for your dedication. But your work has not yet finished. It will not be finished for quite some time." There was a moments pause before the Lady continued. "Now, if you all would return to your posts. Instructions will be given out shortly."

The remaining members of the crowd dispersed as they all returned to their duties at once. Avariella surveyed the rubble once more, and took note of the two tall towers that still remained in tact. The book Olyvar had given her weeks before had gone to great detail to describe Winterfell and yet she still struggled to place everything together. There was one tower that was squat and round, with gargoyles atop it, and it took her another moment or so to identify it as the First Keep. "Is the tower in use?" she asked Lady Catelyn, gesturing one hand in its direction. Lady Catelyn nodded and replied, "It is. That is where we are keeping the wounded for the time being." Avariella moved her head to indicate she was listening to the conversation before turning her attention to the other tower. "That's the broken tower," she stated, unsure whether or not she was asking for reaffirmation.

"Yes," Lady Catelyn's voice was dark when she spoke and when Avariella turned to look at her a clouded expression was painted on her worn features. Avariella didn't know much about Lady Catelyn, but she could easily tell that something bad had happened to her in that tower, or to someone she loved. "It is being renovated for the first time in a few hundred years," Lady Catelyn said, never once looking away from the tower, "We need it to store food for the upcoming Winter." The wind blew even sharper after her words, almost instantaneously. Avariella let Lady Catelyn guide her to their destination, careful not to stare at the wreckage for too long. They walked in silence, the only sound being their feet crushing the gravel beneath them. It took Avariella a few moments to realise that they were being followed. She cast a covert glance over her shoulder and was startled by the sight of Lady Brienne following them at a close distance. She should not have been surprised at the notion of Lady Catelyn having a guard, but she had not seen Lady Brienne for weeks. It was almost as though she were a shadow, which seemed odd since she had an aura that demanded attention. Or at least, that was how Avariella saw it.

She looked forward before Lady Brienne could catch her eye, letting out a deep breath as she smoothed the lines on her skirt. Due to her absentmindedness, she almost crashed into Lady Catelyn, who had suddenly stopped in her tracks. Avariella frowned and moved so that she was standing next to her, taking in the sudden lines of sorrow on the Lady's face as she stared at a large piece of rubble. Avariella titled her head as she stared at the small ruined structure, something tugging at her chest as she recognised the familiar shape.

"My husband built the Sept for me a few moons after I arrived from Riverrun," Lady Catelyn said, her voice heavy with immeasurable grief. Avariella did not say anything for a few moments, the silence hanging heavy between them. "I'm sorry," she said eventually, a large lump in her throat, "Your husband was a good man." Lady Catelyn's blue eyes pierced her hear as she replied, "As I am sure was your brother my lady." Avariella nearly winced.

They continued on moving throughout the ruin, with Lady Catelyn pointing at various structures that she deemed important to mention to her. She went on about the various reconstructions they needed to do and how long it would take and how her daughter Arya had not returned. She did not mention Bran Stark and Avariella did not press her for any answers. The wind was sharp and biting but strangely enough Avariella grew used to it with time, so much so that she almost enjoyed the feeling of the cool air reddening her cheeks.

"My son Rickon seemed to have taken a liking to you," Lady Catelyn commented, as they strode towards the group of workers waiting for them. Avariella had been too busy looking for Max, relaxing as she caught sight of him a small distance in front of them. "I have taken a liking to him as well," she replied evenly, linking her hands together in an effort to stop them from shaking. The resemblance to Avos was still too striking—too difficult for her to accept. To truly believe. It was almost has if he had been reborn. "He has had a very difficult childhood," Lady Catelyn told her, stopping her steps right before they reached the workers. Avariella turned to look at her, careful to keep her expression even as she met Lady Catelyn's eyes. They had hardened as she spoke and they never wavered as she continued, "Adapting to new people has been difficult for him every since he returned to Winterfell. I would not want for anyone to unsettle him." She had said the words kindly but Avariella heard the hint of the threat in her voice. Hurt my son and I will hurt you.

Believe me, Avariella wanted to say, I couldn't even if I wanted to. Avos won't let me.

"Of course," she replied cordially, waiting for Lady Catelyn to move ahead of her. She surveyed the crew in front of her from where she stood behind Lady Catelyn, suddenly feeling unsure of herself. She did not know what precisely she was meant to do. She stuck out like a weed in a field of roses. Avariella held no authority in the North— in this household and she was smart enough to know that her family was disliked across Westeros. The Southerners did not trust the Northerners and the Northerners only trusted their own. She could see it in their eyes; in the way all of them had narrowed slightly when they saw her, in the way that none of them had warmed or twisted into a polite expression. They were all just blank faces with distant expressions, unwilling to let her in. Avariella took a deep breath before staring them all in the eye, not losing her ground. Those who met her eyes looked at her with poorly concealed suspicion and wariness. Southerners have not been kind to them. The realisation rattled her more than she cared to admit. The Twins had been apart of the war for a year, and all the fighting had taken place away from them. For the most part, she had been sheltered away from the horror. She pictured Avos bloodied and broken, and resisted the urge to shudder.

Lady Catelyn began giving out instructions which Avariella chose not to listen to, instead allowing her mind to wander. She made close enough attention to notice several group members begin to spread out with various tools and so she stood there silently, waiting for someone to tell her to do something. "We will all be focused on one main goal for the next few moons: Restoring Winterfell. In order to do that, we need to be patient and work hard. Winter is near, and we need to survive. My son, your King, has taken a group of workers to work on the Great Keep, the great Hall, and we will work on the rest. Talk to me if you have any questions or complaints, though I believe that my instructions will be quite clear. . ."

The wind rattled Avariella's slim frame, causing her to shiver. No one else seemed bothered. Avariella waited for Lady Catelyn to introduce her, to mention her name, but the elder woman never even cast her glance as she spoke, her attention focused directly on the workers in front of her. The group disbanded after Lady Catelyn finished her speech, and Avariella observed quietly as a man in Maester's robes hurried up to her, a large book in his arms. It was an odd sensation, Avariella noted, she did not know what to do with herself. She merely stood there, alone, whilst the noises of hammers and pickaxes began to rise.

"Lady Avariella," Lady Catelyn called out, summoning her to them. Avariella moved towards them, holding her head high as she met the Maester's eyes. He did not seem to be too old, but she could see grey hairs begin to form at the crown of his head. He had prominent black circles around his eyes, which would have made the grey of his pupils seem dull if it weren't for the surprising liveliness in his eyes. "Hello my lady," he greeted happily, hugging the thick book close to his chest. She nodded at him politely, offering him a small smile before she glanced at Lady Catelyn. The Lady eyed her with an inscrutable expression, before saying: "Lady Avariella, meet Maester Bryal, he has only recently arrived in Winterfell but a mere year ago."

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," she returned, clasping her hands together modestly. The rest of what happened was a blur. There were conversations of the number of coin they were using, an update on the injured and numerous of other things that Avariella was not quite sure was her business to begin with. Eventually, she found herself supposedly 'supervising' a group of workers, but to her it was more like watching a bunch of people pile rocks together and then carry them. She stood there, feeling unsure of herself when she caught sight of the little girl. She was young, younger than Shirei, with a pale complexion and dainty features. Her hair was the colour of straw and Avariella stood there frowning, when she noticed that she was trying to pick up a stone from the pile. She had not noticed the little girl before and wondered where she had come from. No one else seemed bothered by her presence.

Avariella watched as the girl struggled before sighing and walking up to the pile of stones, careful to keep out of the way of the workers. She crouched down next to the girl and murmured, "You seem like you need some help." The girl glanced up at her, startled, her pale eyes wide with surprise as her hands stopped trying to pull up one of the rocks. Avariella almost laughed once she caught sight of how big the stone was before carefully picking it up so she could carry it. "Take one of the smaller ones," she advised, casting the girl a soft smile before rising to her full height. The girl flushed a light shade of pink before picking up a considerably smaller rock and cradling it in her arms. "Where do these need to go?"

"The first Keep," the girl replied lowly, not looking her in the eyes. Avariella frowned; "Is that not where they are keeping the wounded?" she asked, walking beside the girl. "Yes," the girl almost stumbled before continuing, "But one of the walls near it was weak so they needed a few more stones to—" she coughed suddenly, her cheeks red. Avariella took pity on her and asked no further questions, her arms beginning to burn due to her holding the heavy rock for sometime. It was whilst she was adjusting the rock in her arms that the girl spoke once again, "Thank you, your grace, for your assistance." Avariella was too busy adjusting her grip to realise what the girl had just said.

It took all of her strength not to drop the stone on her feet. "No," she cried out, panicked, her voice unusually loud and high pitched. "No—I— I am not the queen. I am Walder Frey's daughter, Lady Avariella."

The girl looked awfully embarrassed, "I am sorry I thought—because— oh my I apologise Lady—Lady Ava—" her face screwed up with frustration as she tried to pronounce Avariella's name with failed results. Avariella felt a smile form on her lips, forgetting her distress. "Lady Ava or Lady Frey is just fine," she told her softly, for once a genuine smile gracing her lips. The girls cheeks still burned red as she smiled at her cautiously. They continued to walk on in silence and Avariella nearly cried out with relief when they finally arrived at the First Keep, her arms aching with excursion.

"Thank you," the girl repeated placing her rock down with a pile of others. Avariella did so as well, quietly surveying the work cite. The workers worked quietly and with a sense of hurry. None seemed to notice her. "It was no problem," she responded absentmindedly, taking in the drum tower. "My father is in there," the girl said quietly, causing Avariella to look down at her. The expression of sorrow on her face made Avariella's heart ache. "I'm sorry," she told her, I lost my brother in the war. Though the experience was different, Avariella realised. Avariella found out Avos had died when Olyvar had returned and Avos had not been in sight. The only anticipation she had had was waiting for him to come home after her father had ordered his men to return to the Twins. This poor girl had seen her father in agony and was anxiously waiting for him to either get better or die.

"At least I have my mother."

That was an experience Avariella could not share.

"It was a pleasure making your acquaintance. . ." she let her words drift as she realised she was not aware of the child's name. "Lilly," the girl told her, "My name is Lilly."

"That is a lovely name," Avariella said kindly. She eyed the door to the keep once more before shaking her head and almost moved to walk back to where she had been before, when she stopped herself. "Do you need any more assistance here?" she asked Lilly suddenly, realising that she held no use back where she had been left at. I may as well do something rather than stand around looking like a fool.

Lilly looked at her with surprise before nodding.


"Avariella."

She jumped at the sound of Olyvar's voice, nearly dropping the cloth in her hands due to her sudden surprise. "Olyvar," she returned, rubbing the wet cloth across her dirty hands once she had adjusted her grip. He eyed her for a moment, the wind rustling his dark hair, and then spoke: "Were you carrying rocks with the workers?" Avariella could not tell whether or not he disapproved, and the notion that he might made her body tense. "I assisted where I could," she corrected, shifting her body so that she could stare him in the eye, unwilling to back down. To her surprise, a small smile grew on his face, unnerving her.

"What?" she asked defensively, dropping the cloth into the basin, careful to keep her voice down. Olyvar shook his head and instead of answering her, he said, "It is time for you to attend to the Queen." Avariella paused at this, sending a careful glance around them to make sure that no one was listening. "Must I?" she questioned tirelessly, her tone defeated. Olyvar observed her with a confused expression before nodding silently. Avariella dropped the cloth in the basin and looked around the site, trying to find Lilly so she could inform her of her departure. When the girl with the straw coloured hair did not appear within her sight, Avariella sighed and moved to follow Olyvar, not pleased with leaving so suddenly. "I am surprised that you helped them all things considering," Olyvar told her as they walked. Avariella stiffened at his words and shot back, "Believe it or not Olyvar I am capable of being mature. Besides, I merely carried a few rocks back and forth and sorted some supplies for the medbay. I spent most of my day standing there doing nothing."

Olyvar merely made a noncommittal sound, casting them in an awkward silence once more. They had not interacted a lot over the course of the past few weeks, both of them making an unconscious effort to avoid each other. Avariella had wished to apologise and make amends in the first week, but once Olyvar had made it clear that he had no desire to be in her presence she had grown angry instead and all desire she had to apologise disappeared. Now, though, standing beside him as he took her to the Queen— she shuddered inwardly— she only felt tired. Her arms ached due to her earlier efforts and all she desired to do was crawl into a bed and sleep. She nearly groaned out loud once she remembered that they would not be moving into Winterfell for at least a fortnight as they worked on rebuilding it.

Avariella frowned when she caught sight of where they were going. Lilly had taken her away from the First Keep so that they could help sort the medical supplies that had arrived on the side of the courtyard so Avariella had never been inside the keep and if she were to be frank she had no desire to. When she voiced her thoughts aloud to Olyvar he eyed her with sympathy. "The Queen is a dedicated healer," he told her as they reached the door, "She was persistent in continuing as such once she arrived at Winterfell." Olyvar paused before opening the door and Avariella took the moment to collect herself. Give me strength, she thought, unsure of whom she was asking but desperate for it nonetheless.

Avariella hurried after Olyvar once he had opened the door and almost immediately she was overwhelmed. There were persistent groans echoing throughout the tower and a strong smell of blood and death that, were she a child, she would have cowered in fear and cried to her parents. Alas, neither did she have any parents— present with her— and neither was she a child. So she took a deep breath to quell her queasiness and followed Olyvar. There were multiple cots that were lined in rows that were occupied by dying men. It was cramped and crowded and Avariella found it difficult to breathe. When she caught sight of a man with an amputated leg unconscious, she reminded herself harshly that her struggles were far less than theirs. Shame blossomed in her chest as she looked away from the man, lowering her eyes.

"You won't stay here long," Olyvar murmured into her ear, "You will escort the Queen to her tent and act as her lady in waiting. There is to be a dinner later this evening and you will be expected to be there as well." His breath hitched before he continued. "There will be Lords looking at you Avariella, remember you are to be engaged to one of their sons." Her bitterness was like a noose around her neck. "How could I ever forget?"

There was a moment when they stood there, looking for the Queen. "Where is Max?" Olyvar asked suddenly. "He ran off a few hours ago," she replied, unconcerned. Olyvar made a non-committal noise beside her, but did not say anything.

"I suppose the both of you are looking for me?"

Avariella turned around to look at the Queen and tried to mask her tiredness. Oh dear gods, she groaned inwardly, taking notice of her appearance. The Queen's hands were stained with blood and her cheeks had small blemishes of dark red that seemed to have appeared when she accidentally brushed them with her hands. Her braid had come undone and was in tangles and she massive rings under her eyes that made her black orbs look empty.

"Indeed, your grace," Olyvar said, bowing appropriately, which prompted Avariella to do the same. She said nothing, locking her jaw together and trying to mask her disdain. "I need a moment before I leave," the Queen told them, looking oddly fragile. "Of course, your grace," Olyvar conceded, bowing appropriately. Avariella moved her head in a poor attempt to show that she cared about the conversation. Once the Queen disappeared, Olyvar hissed quietly: "Stop acting as though you are a corpse Avariella." His tone aggravated her beyond reason.

"I will stop acting like a corpse once she stops boring me to death," she snapped back, her cheeks growing flushed with anger. Olyvar smiled at her wryly, but there was an undeniable warning in his eyes; be careful, his brown pools whispered, she is a Queen whom is dearly loved by her King.

"Try your best to be polite," is all he said in return, failing to mask both his amusement and frustration. It was as she observed him that she wondered what made Olyvar so dedicated to serving the King. She had known that Olyvar was his squire during the war, while Avos had only been a soldier, but she had not known the true extent of their relationship. Olyvar had written letters to her, Roslin and Shirei and had mentioned the King in passing— though not in detail, as he claimed he wished for them to make their own impressions of him, as his potential wife— but his words had not revealed any indication that the King was some otherworldly figure with no faults.

Or perhaps Olyvar forgave him long ago.

The thought was an unwelcome, as evidenced by her immediate scowl.

"Your grace," she breathed, as the Queen returned from wherever she had disappeared off to, now looking a lot more presentable, giving her brusquely cleaned skin a faint glow. "Shall we?" The Queen prompted and before waiting for them to answer she made her way to the door. Avariella was not eager to linger; the stench of death and the dying was becoming too much for her to bare.

It was in her hurry that she did not realise that Olyvar had not followed after them.


Hate her she might, Avariella could not deny that the Queen was extraordinarily beautiful. Avariella had had the opportunity to go clean and dress herself in the tent that had been assigned to her before she had to go help the Queen get ready for the dinner. It had been there in the small, slightly bare living arrangements did she notice the sealed letters left on the small table for her. She had nearly tripped over herself in her eagerness to get to them, and had ripped open the seal for the first one with such a hastiness that it was a surprise she had not ripped the paper in two.

Dear Avariella,

Roslin's familiar scrawl wrote.

I heard of your journey to the North and though I do not agree with your hatred of the King, I am sorry that you have been forced to live as his ward for the foreseeable future. I have also heard of Shirei's plight as well. I tried to convince my lord husband to write to father as his liege lord to allow her to stay at Riverrun for a few years before going to live in her betrothed's household but he claimed that it was Father's business and his alone.

That had been the first time I ever got cross with my husband. He is a kind man, Avariella and very brave. He has treated me with nothing but kindness and delicacy throughout the short duration we have been wed and I have tried to repeat the sentiment to the best of my abilities and have found that the affection I have for him is something that does not need to be forced. Marriage life— and life as the Lady of Riverrun— is something to behold, Avariella. I can not wait for you to be wed. I hope you will be as fortunate as I— at this Avariella had snorted loudly, but continued to read on— with your marriage.

Oh, Riverrun is without a doubt the most beautiful place I have ever been, Avariella, the most wonderful place I could ever hope to be. The castle is surrounded by water, trees and fields and when first light breaks it creates the most enchanting image. I can not find the words to describe it. As my letter draws to a close, Avariella, there is one thing that has been plaguing me that I must confess:

I have not had my moon's blood since the fortnight before I was wed. The thought of a babe in my womb both frightens and excites me beyond reason and I must admit that I have not told another soul. My husband visits my chambers regularly and makes love to me successfully and shall be expecting a child soon enough. My hands tremble as I write this.

I miss you dearly.

Love,

Roslin

Now, as Avariella combed the Queen's hair with a gentleness that she felt should not be directed at someone she loathed, she still felt slightly ill due to Roslin's revelation. Granted, she was pleased for her sister as she still loved her dearly, despite their still mending relationship but the thought of her being related to a Tully—even if it was Edmure Tully— made her fists clench. She herself was dressed in one of her newly made gowns. It was a light blue colour with golden embroidery covered by a thick layer of fur draped around her shoulders. She had twisted her red locks into a intricate bun that she still feared would tip over, but so far it remained firmly in place. She had made an effort to look presentable, not wanting any negative glares and whispers. Avariella was much too tired to handle it.

"No," the Queen commanded softly, as Avariella had moved to braid her hair, "I wish for it to be left like this." Avariella nodded obediently, her mind still focused on Roslin's letter. Shirei had written as well, but it had been before she left for her new home and had merely detailed how much she missed her. It had made her heart ache painfully in her chest. She was too caught up in her own thoughts to recognise that the Queen was nervous— so much to the point that her hands trembled. It was no wonder as to why; the Queen knew that she was unpopular and not trusted by not only the Northern lords but the Southern too. The death of male child was seen to be an omen that her and the King's marriage was ill-fated.

The Queen had as much to prove as she.

A/N HEY GUYS OMG IM SO SORRY IT'S BEEN SO LONG, I DON'T EVEN KNOW HOW TO BEGIN TO APOLOGISE. School has been a bitch and my writers juices have kinda been uninspired lately. I don't even know. Thank you all so much for your feedback, I am so glad that you are all enjoying this story! I know it seems like nothing really happened in this chapter, and I don't blame you guys for feeling that way, I had planned to include more but I have so much schoolwork and other things that I have to prioritise so I did not know when I could be able to add the rest of what I wanted. These next few chapters will be mostly of Avariella settling into the North and how her relationships and her attitude will either change for the better or for worse. Let me know what you guys think! THANK YOU ALL FOR EVERYTHING! FEEL FREE TO PM ME IF YOU HAVE ANY QUESTIONS! REVIEW TO LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!

Until next time,

Fionakevin073