The ride to Winterfell had been primarily silent, with the clatter of the horses' hooves hitting the ground the only source of sound. There was tension in the air to say the very least. Freya's dissatisfaction became clearer and clearer the more they neared their destination. Freya peered out of the window as they arrived at Winterfell. She felt apprehensive about the whole thing, how was a marriage between sworn enemies supposed to work out? She let out a sigh, if only she had the freedom to choose her own suitor.
The newly reigning King of the North himself, Dorren Stark, was the one to receive them upon their arrival, alongside his doting wife, Lady Caryss. Dorren was a plump man with long graying hair and a full beard. Lord Rodner was quick to notice how much frailer the man appeared to be since the last time he had seen him eye to eye. Lord Dorren Stark had been long known for his seemingly impenetrable demeanor. However, the man Lord Rodner was witnessing from his carriage was nothing of the sort.
"That's the King of the North?" Freya asked, raising an eyebrow. "He looks sickly to me." Perhaps he'll die and I'll be Queen sooner than I thought, she thought.
Lord Rodner nodded. "I suppose even the great Wolf King of the North cannot avoid the perils of old age." He commented just before one of the Stark servants scurried over to open the carriage door for them. Lord Rodner climbed out of the carriage then helped his wife descend the steps, followed by his younger sister.
"Be nice." He hissed in Freya's ear.
Freya glanced up at him with a playful smile, "I'm always nice."
Lord Rodner simply let out a quiet huff as he allowed the aide to help them out into the cold winter air one by one.
"Lord Rodner!" King Dorren Stark boomed out in greeting. "I cannot believe I am about to say this but it is nice to see you, my boy."
The closest thing he had to a smile formed on Lord Rodner's lips. "The pleasure is all mine, Your Grace." He politely replied. Pleasantries were not on the new Lord of the Dreadfort's agenda. However, he figured it could not hurt to at least fake it for the moment being. What kind of example would he be setting for his young sister otherwise?
"And you must be Freya." The King said, glancing at the black haired teen.
Freya dipped a curtsy to the king, "I am, Your Grace." She said politely.
"My, what a pretty little thing you are." Queen Caryss interjected, almost as if the fact had come as a surprise.
"Your Grace is too kind." Freya said with a smile. She hated every moment she was forced to play nice with the Starks, and came to the realization that this would be the rest of her life. She kept a smile on her face, resisting the urge to scowl.
Queen Caryss smiled at Freya, then turned her attention to Mariya who had been silently standing by her husband's side. "You have not changed a bit, Mariya." The Queen of Winterfell said, her long chestnut hair flowing in the wind.
"And you have not aged a day, my queen." Mariya replied with courtesy. Nevertheless, a hint of discomfort between the two could be noted by anyone who paid close enough attention. It was to be expected, she presumed. How else would a mother react to meeting the woman who publicly rejected her beloved son years after it happened?
"Come inside, it's far too cold out here for ladies such as ourselves." Queen Caryss said.
Freya and Mariya followed Queen Caryss inside of the keep and Freya couldn't help but look around as she was led inside, it was impressive, to say the least. The overall feel of the keep was vastly different from the dark and dreary atmosphere the Dreadfort was known for.
"Where do you think you're off to now, you rascal!" A gentle voice could be heard calling from down the hall. Soon a small boy of about eleven ran in giggling with an oversized fur cloak around his shoulders.
"This is mine now! You'll never get it back!" The child proclaimed before he ran straight into his unamused mother.
"Ashter, Bron, please say hello to our guests." Queen Caryss said, giving her sons a stern look.
Prince Bronden flashed a look of embarrassment as he placed his hands above his little brother's shoulders.
"Welcome." The crown prince greeted with a toothy grin. He was a slim young man of average height, with bushy brown curls, and bright blue eyes.
"Thank you." Freya said, forcing a smile. So far she was unimpressed with her betrothed.
"And I'm Prince Ashter but you don't have to call me that. I prefer my name alone." The youngest prince chimed in.
"I'll keep that in mind, Ashter." Freya said politely. She hated children and wanted to spend as little time with the young prince as she had to.
"Ashter is not one to speak to strangers, so I will take his liking of you as a good sign." Queen Caryss stated with a pleased look on her face.
Prince Bronden smiled as well, but his satisfaction was short-lived when he finally noticed the other woman standing on the opposite side of his mother.
"I take it Rodner tagged along." He commented, voice laced with bitterness.
"Of course he did, my brother would not send me here alone." Freya replied. "Though I doubt he'll stay for long."
"Bron is just upset he didn't get the pretty one." Ashter then snickered out while pointing to Mariya.
"Ashter!" Queen Caryss exclaimed. "With me this instant!"
Freya glanced at Mariya who suppressed a smile. What's so special about her? Freya thought, sure Mariya was pretty, but so was she. Freya couldn't help but be relieved when Caryss took Ashter away.
After a brief moment of silence as Bronden glared in Mariya's direction, Mariya cleared her throat.
"I suppose I should allow you two to get properly acquainted." She began, clasping her hands together. "I shall return to my husband now. Excuse me."
Freya merely nodded to acknowledge her sister-in-law's departure. She glanced at Bronden, unsure of what to say and uninterested in making small talk with her husband-to-be. It was not until Mariya was completely out of the room that Bronden turned his attention back to Freya.
"My apologies for my brother. He can be quite bold." Prince Bronden chuckled.
Freya forced a smile, "It's quite alright." she said pleasantly.
"I hope his outburst did not entirely kill your first impression of us." Prince Bronden said.
"Trust me, it did not." Freya said she already had her first impression of the Starks from the war that raged between their houses and she was already set on hating them.
Prince Bronden simply nodded and let out a breath. "Well…" He trailed off, unsure of what to say. "I hope the ride over wasn't too much trouble for you."
"It was rather boring." Freya admitted. "But it wasn't much trouble."
"Right, well, I'm glad to hear it." Prince Bronden replied with uncharacteristic awkwardness. He was typically rather smooth but considering the embarrassment he had just faced he was struggling to recover.
King Dorren and Lord Rodner entered the room and Dorren smiled at the sight in front of him.
"I'm glad to see you two are getting acquainted." King Dorren said.
"That we are." Prince Bronden replied with a smile. "I take it you two were discussing the formalities of our arrangement."
"We were, everything seems to be in order." King Dorren said with a smile.
"I suppose that means that my wife and I should be on our way." Lord Rodner stated as his eyes scanned the room. "Where is she?"
"Well she is your wife. Shouldn't you be the one aware of Mariya's whereabouts, Rodner?" Prince Bronden remarked, clearly not over the snub he blamed the Bolton heir for.
Lord Rodner huffed in return, ready to slip out his own snide remark but opted to bite his tongue. Remember where you are. "You are quite right, Bronden. How silly of me." He spat before turning his attention to the King. "I suppose this is goodbye, Your Grace. After I reunite with Mariya, I shall be on my way—"
"Nonsense." The portly King interrupted. "I insist that you and your wife stay for supper. We are to be family soon, after all. The least we can do is sit together as one for an evening."
Lord Rodner looked to his younger sister for a moment while he pondered over the idea. "Your Grace is too kind. It would be my pleasure to take you up on your offer."
"Where will I be staying?" Freya asked, glancing at Prince Bronden. She wanted to oversee her handmaidens unpacking her belongings in case they messed that up.
"Someone will escort you to your quarters after all of your belongings have been brought in." King Dorren informed.
Freya merely nodded her assent, she wondered what her quarters would be like, she hoped they were good.
After a bit short of an hour of awkward chatter amongst the soon to be joined northern houses, Freya's quarters were finally ready for her to see. Prince Bronden volunteered to escort his bride-to-be to her new room, politely excusing them from the rest of the group. Freya followed him up the stairs and down a hall and into her quarters. Bronden opened the door and allowed her to step inside first. Freya glanced around as handmaidens were unpacking her belongings, of course she hadn't been allowed to bring her own and good help was so hard to find. The room was somewhat bright for Northern standards thanks to the large window she had been graced with. The setting sun reflected nicely off of its gray walls and white fur throws. While simple, the decor seemed much more intricate than anything she had back in her Dreadfort quarters.
"What do you think?" Prince Bronden asked. "Does it suit your fancy?"
"It does." Freya replied curtly. It irked her how polite Prince Bronden was, she needed to hate him and he wasn't giving her a reason to do so.
"So there's nothing you would change?" Prince Bronden challenged with a smile.
Freya shook her head, "It will do."
The prince glared at her quizzically for a moment then nodded his head. "Alright then." He said. "Shall I allow you to get settled or would you like to go for a short tour while supper is in the works?"
Freya pondered it for a moment, a tour would mean spending more time with her betrothed, so she opted to stay and get settled. "I'll get settled, thank you for your hospitality." Freya said politely.
Prince Bronden frowned at her reply. He had been expecting Freya to take him up on his offer. Any other woman would, he thought.
"Oh, of course. I shall leave you to it then." He replied, clearly disappointed.
"You sound disappointed." Freya observed as she stepped further into her room and glanced out the window to gaze at the courtyard below. "I can come if that's what you'd like."
Prince Bronden quickly shook his head, brown curls bouncing as he did so. "No. I suppose I just assumed you would like to familiarize yourself with your new home sooner rather than later." The young man insisted.
"I can have one of my handmaidens show me around." Freya said as she turned to face him. "You can go now."
Prince Bronden blinked his bright blue eyes rapidly, never having been dismissed before. In any other situation he was sure he would've been quick to remind his opposite of their place, but at that moment he was too taken aback to do much of anything.
"See you at supper." Was all Bronden could muster out before he disappeared into the hallway.
Freya smirked to herself, that was easy, she thought as she twirled her hair in between her fingers. She sat on her bed as she closely watched her new handmaidens unpack her belongings.
"Be careful with that, it's expensive." Freya snapped as they took one of her favorite dresses out of the trunk.
The handmaiden looked to her with shock, never having been spoken to in such a way by a ward before. "My apologies, my lady." She said quietly.
"You will be sorry if anything happens to it, or any of my belongings for that matter." Freya warned harshly as she examined her nails.
The handmaiden dropped her gaze to the floor and returned to her task alongside the others. Freya watched as her handmaidens worked, when there was a knock at the door.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" Freya demanded, tilting her head towards the door. "Answer it."
"Yes, my lady." One of the terrified handmaidens replied as she hurried over to answer the door. Lord Rodner stood behind it, having wandered away to check up on his younger sister.
"Is everything alright in here?" The pale skinned Bolton heir questioned.
"Everything is going swimmingly, brother." Freya said snidely as she stood. "Except for the simple fact that I do not want to be here."
Lord Rodner rolled his eyes in annoyance. "We have already discussed this, Freya."
"Yes, yes, I know, I am to marry the Stark heir." Freya said, a hint of annoyance in her voice. "If I recall correctly it was less of a discussion and more of an order. He doesn't want to marry me either, I can tell that much."
"Then make him want to." Rodner swiftly retorted. "It was father's final wish to unite our two houses as well as the North itself." He added almost bitterly. "Do not dishonor him."
"He's dead, I hardly think he'll know or care whether or not I 'dishonor' him." Freya said snidely.
Lord Rodner exhaled a breath then shot his sister a stern look. "What's done is done, Freya. The arrangements have already been made, and I will not allow you to ruin this." He warned.
Freya scowled and crossed her arms, but said nothing. She knew her fate was sealed the second she stepped into Winterfell.
"You will play your part—and well. I do not want to hear any complaints about you, Freya. You are not Grennan, control your attitude, don't fret."
"Whatever you say, brother." Freya said bitterly.
Lord Rodner nodded. "Play nice with the help while you're at it." He added, stepping closer to her. "Remember that you are still a guest in this palace until the day you wed Bronden. Do not cause yourself to be even more outnumbered than you already are."
Freya narrowed her eyes at him, "I will always be a guest in this house. Winterfell will never be my home." She vowed, more to herself than to her brother.
"If you are as bright as you attempt to prove, you will not allow that to become a reality." Lord Rodner cautioned.
Freya scowled and looked away, "Is that all you wanted, brother?" She questioned.
"No." Lord Rodner proclaimed. "You should also come back with me. Supper is almost ready and it would not be polite of you to hide out here when the others are eager to get to know their guest."
Freya sighed as she stood and followed her brother out of the room. She was tired from the ride over and would have much rather have stayed in her room, but she knew that he wasn't asking.
After the feast Freya stood at the entrance of Winterfell's castle, next to Bronden and his parents as Mariya and Rodner were saying their goodbyes. She didn't care that her brother was leaving her, she cared that she was stuck in Winterfell for the rest of her life, surrounded by strangers. Her brother's eyes met hers then and he beckoned for her to come over to his side.
"Remember what I've told you, sister." Lord Rodner whispered.
Freya simply nodded, "Yes, brother." she murmured.
"I mean it." He said sternly. "Do not risk this opportunity."
"I'll play my part." Freya said quietly so only her brother could hear her. She glanced at Bronden with a frown, how was she supposed to play nice with someone she despised already? It was then that she also noticed that he was no longer standing idly, but now conversing with her sister in law, Mariya.
"It seems someone isn't over the one who got away." Freya said snidely, motioning to Rodner and Mariya, wondering just what they were talking about.
"No, I don't believe you." Prince Bronden harshly whispered as he shook his head. "Rodner threatened you somehow—he had to. You don't have to be afraid, Mariya. You can tell me the truth. It isn't too late." He added, desperation and denial clear in his voice.
Lady Mariya discreetly took her arm back from her former suitor, doing her best not to react as to not alert everyone else of what the two were discussing. "It's quite a shame to see you this way, Bron." The raven haired woman replied. "Even if all of what you said were true, I made my choice. What's done is done."
"I don't understand!" Bronden nearly exclaimed. "How could you possibly choose him over me?"
"I don't think my brother's that bad." Freya chimed in, having slowly inched over close enough to hear their conversation.
Bronden's bright blue eyes met Freya's in surprise, having not noticed when she came over to them. "I-I…" He stammered.
"He isn't." Mariya stated, remaining composed. "Excuse me, I must return to my husband." She politely added. Then she turned on her heel and went on her way.
Freya raised an eyebrow at Bronden, did he have to make it so obvious that he's not over her? She thought bitterly as she awaited his explanation.
The prince stared at Mariya as she strode away until his gaze eventually fell on the ground. "Can I ask you something?" Bronden whispered to Freya.
"What is it?" Freya asked.
"Does he ever…do they…" Bronden let out a breath as he attempted to properly gather his words without offending Freya. "Does he love her?" He finally asked.
"I believe so." Freya answered, looking him directly in the eyes. "And no, he doesn't hurt her." she added with a hint of anger in her voice.
Prince Bronden ran a hand over his thick curls in frustration, ultimately nodding in response. "Let's wrap this up."
Freya nodded and watched as her brother and sister-in-law got into the carriage. She let out a silent sigh and didn't bother waving to them as the carriage rode off.
"Do not worry, my dear. This is not a day of goodbyes but of new beginnings." Queen Caryss chimed with a hopeful smile.
Freya forced a smile, "You're right, Your Grace, to new beginnings." She forced out.
The queen then placed a palm on Freya's shoulder and began to lead her back into the keep. Freya allowed herself to be led back into the keep, not even bothering to glance in Bronden's direction.
"I'm rather tired." Freya said. "I think I'll go to my quarters."
"Alright, dear. Rest well." Queen Caryss replied as all bid her a goodnight.
"Goodnight." Freya said politely, then walked away. She went to her quarters and closed the door behind her. Her eyes narrowed on one of her handmaidens.
"You, prepare me for bed." She ordered.
"Yes, my lady." The handmaiden responded, scurrying over to do as she was told. Once prepared for bed Freya dismissed her handmaidens and laid in bed. I can't believe Rodner sold me to the Starks, she thought angrily, racking her mind for a way out of it.