Chapter 5
Avariella didn't know how to breathe. She remembered an accident she had once as a child. She had been climbing a tree, the tallest one she could find, in an attempt to prove that she could to Olyvar and Avos. She remembered how infuriated she had felt at their smirks, and how she had cursed her septa and all her lessons of elegance and manners and set out to find a tree, if only to wipe those smirks of their faces. She had scrunched up the skirt of her dress with her hands and began to climb up the tree. It had been fine for a while, with Olyvar and Avos's playful laughter and encouragement egging her on until she had slipped. She had reached the top of the tree before accidentally stepping on her dress, which sent her falling backwards. Avariella remembered how light she had felt; like a bird, helpless to the howling wind before she had landed onto the ground with a large thunk. It was as if the impact had knocked out any wisp of air from her lungs, and she had laid there, struggling to breathe.
That was how she felt now, trying to remember how to breathe and unable to say anything. She felt her eyes go wide with horror and it occurred to her that a sound escaped her throat. It was something between a gasp and a sound of pain. Breathe, her mind whispered, breathe. It took her a moment of bewilderedness to realise that she had taken a few slow steps back away from Olyvar. No no no she whispered breathlessly, though she did not feel in control of herself; of her mind or body. Gods no. She stumbled back before she hit a pillar, which halted her movements. She was slowly regaining herself again, the numbness in her bones slowly evaporating in place of a frantic panic. He may have heard incorrectly, she told herself, father know's that I do not want to go to the—
The door of the great hall opened, and the crowd immediately dispersed in a poor attempt to hide the fact that they had been eavesdropping. Avariella felt her breath leave her again, making her mouth fall open as she staggered forward, feeling lightheaded. The King, she thought, pushing past a few people with surprising strength, he gave me his word—
A small gasp left her mouth at the sight of him. She halted in her steps, her back straightening like an arrow, hope blooming in her chest. The Starks keep their word, she told herself, he gave me his word— She caught his eye in the crowd. She could feel Olyvar behind her, ready to catch her if she collapsed. They stared at each other for a moment, the Stark and the Frey, before he slowly and inconspicuously shook his head. In that one slight motion, she saw the end of hope. She saw the destruction of everything she knew. Shirei she thought, stumbling back into Olyvar, who grasped a hold of her tightly. But before he could ask her what was wrong she pushed at his chest and slipped through the crowd, desperation making her move faster, fear making bones shake inside her and gods-know-what making her run. She ran so fast she felt like the wind. She didn't know where her feet were taking her, only that they were taking her somewhere away from there. Away from her half-brother and his concerned eyes, away from Shirei and her kind smile, and away from the Starks' and their lies.
Away was good. Away was what she needed. Away was far closer than she planned. Avariella was partially aware of everything around her. Of the servants who had stopped what they were doing to stare at her in surprise; the others who stared at her with annoyance due to her brushing past them or bumping against them. She was aware of bolting through the front gate that led out onto the path to the forest and she kept on running, showing no signs of tiring anytime soon. She had not run so fast since she was a mere child, playing games with Avos. Now she was no child but a woman grown, with no twin— no true brother. And now she was going to be taken away from her home and sold off to a northman like cattle, and one of her children will be set off to marry one of his offspring. And it was all her bloody fault.
Avariella wasn't aware that she was falling until she hit the ground elbow first, causing pain to throb through her. Her dress was covered in mud at the front, as were her hands and parts of her face. A sob racked through her chest, escaping her mouth despite the fact that she had bitten down so tightly on her lower lip it bled. And then another sob. And another. Until she was sobbing on the ground, with damp muddy grass beneath her and no one to hear her cries. You stupid girl, she cursed herself, why did you ever provoke him? Why? Why? Why?
"Why couldn't you keep your mouth shut?" she asked herself, tears still streaming down her face furiously. Why? Why? Why? The rage and grief and sorrow inside of her— the hatred she felt for herself began to dim and her tears began to run dry. She still hiccuped as a result of her sobbing, but it was no longer as violent as it had been before. She swiped angrily at her eyes, eager for her tears to finish falling but knowing that she couldn't rush them. She had to be rid of her weakness now, and then go back onto the battlefield. It wasn't official yet. Her father had not yet chosen her— at least directly to her face. There was a small chance— however it small or tiny it may be that she could make him pick Shirei. Make wasn't the proper word for someone like her father; convince or persuade was better. Avariella slowly began to push herself up, and it took everything in her to do so. For Shirei, she told herself, for Avos. For his memory.
When she was finally standing she wiped at her eyes once more, which felt raw and wet still. She knew she looked like a mad woman, and she supposed she was one, momentarily but moved forward towards the castle. Her heart began to beat faster and faster like a drum in her chest, doom boom doom boom. Her father liked her better when she looked pretty, almost as if the sight of her like that was proof that he could make something look decent, despite his own physical shortcomings. Muddy and red would not do. And so when she snuck back into the castle she immediately made the way to her chambers, and commanded a nearby servant to bring her bath water. When she eventually found herself in the bathwater, scrubbing at herself furiously, she was surprised to find that her hurt and grief had vanished in place of a unwavering determination.
She scrubbed herself so hard her skin turned bright red from her efforts, as red as the hair on her ahead that now clung to the back of her neck and shoulders. She climbed out of the bath and began to dry herself. It was times like these where Avariella missed Arra. Arra who had been more like a mother to her than an of her father's wives over the years. Arra who had only been a few years older than she. Arra, whom she had not had a proper, personal conversation with in over a year. The thought made something stir within her, before she quickly quelled it down and began brushing her hair, with a robe now on.
When she was finally dressed in one of her better gowns, one which she had sown herself and had pinned and brushed her hair back nicely, she was thankful that it was supper time already. She cast her room one last glance, and her heart sped up at the thought that this may not be her room anymore if she didn't change her father's mind. That this room would one day be filled by one of her nieces or nephews or half-brothers and half-sisters. She had grown up in this very room. She had cried in this room, and bled and this room and laughed and grown up. This room was her childhood. And now she may have to leave it in favour of some cold room up in the north, where she may freeze to death in her sleep. The mere thought made her shiver.
Avos, she thought to herself, I need your help. But her brother wouldn't answer. He would never be able to help her ever again. Avariella closed her eyes and summoned her strength, what little of it was left and forced herself out of the room, for fear that she would never leave it again.
The great hall was not fully crowded just yet, but her father was already there thankfully. Avariella stood there under the arch of the doorway, her heart hammering in her chest. Should I pray to the gods? She thought to herself, clasping her hands together to keep them from shaking, But then again, the seven have never answered my prayers. There was a time when she had faith in the gods, and in their justice. That time was no longer. I'll pray to you, Avos and your memory. I'll pray to the life that was stolen from you, and the honourable death you deserved. Her eyes flickered around the hall, and she saw no sign of the King and his party just yet. She did not know whether or not that was a good thing. Avariella felt her breath catch in her throat as her eyes met her father's and suddenly she was no longer there but at Roslin's wedding feast with the Rains of Castamere playing in her ears.
What are you up to, Father? she wondered, and moved forward towards him, her steps shaky and small. You can do this, Ava a voice whispered in her head, a voice so familiar and loved all her fears slowly melted away until—
"Ava!" Shirei said loudly, tugging at her hand. Avariella halted in her steps, the spell broken and turned to look down at her half-sister. "Olyvar said you had run off and I heard some servants said that you were crying but you don't look as though you were crying Ava—"
"I'm fine Shirei," Avariella told her, trying to reassure her quietly, though she was sure her eyes may have betrayed her, "Let's go sit down." She let Shirei drag her to a table, before sending a covert glance to her father, who had begun to sneer lustfully at his wife. Avariella fought back a grimace of disgust before looking forward, and felt herself stiffen at the sight of Olyvar. She fought the impulse to look away from him and regain herself and stared at him directly in the eyes, refusing to look away. She remembered how she had felt earlier, fragile and angry and sad and alone and helpless. Her eyes hardened as she looked at him, a deep, deep anger forming in her bones, spreading all over her body.
I trusted him, she wanted to yell at him, I listened to you and look at us now. Look at what has happened. Olyvar looked away from her, as though he could tell what she was thinking. Shirei seemed to sense something was off between them, and sat in the middle and began to ramble on about her lessons. Avariella had finished her lessons with her Septa shortly after she had turned ten and five, and had been glad of it. Septa Yuliah was a bitter old goat who took great pleasure in seeing children unhappy, and even more pleasure in being the cause of it. Avariella remembered her countless insults and sly comments with a sure taste of displeasure in her mouth. Back then however, Avariella had loved sowing and dancing and learning of history despite her foul tutor and had hated maths and what little they learned of valyrian. And music. Music had been Roslin's specialty, though Avariella did not have that bad of a voice.
She was disrupted from her thoughts when she took notice of Shirei's happy expression melting off her face, like snow. She turned around in her chair to see who— or what— had caused her sudden unhappiness and instantly took notice of the King and Queen entering the room, with his great-uncle, mother and a few banner men behind him. She could feel Shirei stiffen next to her, and could see from her peripheral vision that her eyes had widened with nervousness. Shirei knew about what had occurred earlier on today. A sudden fierceness coursed through her, and she shifted in her chair so that she was facing Shirei, her back to them, and grabbed a hold of her shoulders.
Her gaze was hot as she stared into Shirei's nervous blue eyes, which looked like rippling water and told her fervently, "Listen to me, Shirei," Shirei nodded feebly, her blue eyes wide and frightened, "No matter what name comes out of father's mouth you will be alright." One of her hands reached up from Shirei's shoulder to cup her cheek affectionately, a fierce protectiveness within her blooming like a flower, "I promise you that, by the old gods and the new." Shirei looked at her, her skin paler than usual and whispered, "What if the gods aren't enough?" Avariella felt a lump lodge in her throat as she stared at the child before her, the child who had changed so much within the past year, and Avariella had not even realised it. Too absorbed in her own grief to notice or care.
Avariella struggled with what to say for a few moments, and made sure not to meet Olyvar's piercing gaze. She stroked Shirei's cheek, and looked into her eyes once more, her heart heavy in her chest. "Then I promise you by Avos. By Roslin and Olyvar. By my mother and your mother and our father and all our siblings and nieces and nephews and uncles and aunts." She pressed a cheek on Shirei's forehead, and settled back in her seat, keeping a careful watch on all their guests. She caught eye of Roose Bolton, though his back was to her and a shiver went up her spine. The Lord of the Dreadfort was married thankfully. Avariella could only gape in horror at the notion of her marrying that cold man. She wondered if he had a son, and then grimaced at the idea, and banished it from her mind. You haven't been defeated just yet, she thought, glancing at Shirei.
As though her father read her thoughts, the old man rose slowly from his chair, and Avariella could have sworn that she heard his bones cracking from here. The hall went instantly silent at the sight of him standing, and Avariella could hear her elder half-sisters catch their breaths a few tables away from them. She cast them a look, noting the excited looks on their faces, except for Wyona, who looked eager for it to be over with. How lucky for you, Avariella snarled bitterly in her head, before quickly redirecting her gaze to her father. Help me Avos, she thought, closing her eyes tightly for a moment, help me. She opened her eyes once more, her hands clutching tightly onto the wooden table, and stared at her father, her gaze unblinking. His gaze flickered across the hall, his mouth twitching into a smirk despite his random coughs here and there.
"My honoured guests," he wheezed out, triumph dripping from his voice, "Due to actions that occurred earlier today," he coughed loudly before regaining his 'composure', "His grace has been so kind as to allow me to choose—" he cleared his throat. Avariella wondered how a man so old and so beaten down could look so victorious and proud. "Which one of my daughter's will be sent to the North and wed to one of his banner men." He sent a glance towards the King, his mouth stretching into a smirk. He's taunting him, she realised, and glanced at the King quickly, whose expression was unreadable, as was the Queen's. She looked back at her father before the King could sense that she was looking, and while she did so she felt a hand on her own. She looked to her side, startled to find that Olyvar had reached over and placed his hand on top of hers, with Shirei slowly doing the same. They would go into this as one. As a family. Without Avos, her heart whispered, clenching painfully in her chest despite the fact that her chest had warmed ever-so-slightly at the gesture.
'Thank you,' she mouthed at him, before looking back at their father. She was surprised to find that he was directly staring at her, and blinked rapidly, before reciting a quick prayer to the gods. Prove to me that you exist, she thought, give me this. You have taken so much from me, show me this mercy. Please. Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger. Give me this. For Shirei and for Avos. Her father continued after a long pause, "And after careful consideration I have decided to send—" he coughed once more, his eyes bulging out of his head. Avariella felt her heart beat rapidly in her chest, and she was sure that Olyvar and Shirei must have felt it. She glanced down at their intertwined hands, and as though Olyvar could sense her fear, he squeezed her hand tightly, and before long Shirei did the same, though for reasons of her own. She caught Olyvar's eye but before she could say anything her father managed to collect himself and wheeze out, "Lady Avariella."
The effect it had on the room was instantaneous. There was immediate clapping from the Northern side, though she suspected it was because none of them remembered who each of them was, and it was merely out of polite courtesy to clap. Her half sister's instantly scowled but clapped limply amongst themselves, though she could the questions in their eyes. Why her? they were asking, She has made it no secret how much she despises the King and his family. She has already shamed us in front of them. Why her? Why her and not me?
Punishment, her mind whispered, he's doing it to punish me. The rest of her family had a similar reaction except for one. Shirei. Oh dear gods Shirei. Her younger half sister had looked at her with poorly concealed horror, her eyes instantly watering with tears as her mouth opened as though she were to speak, except no words came out. A sob escaped Shirei's throat, and though it physically pained Avariella to do so she rose from her chair, causing it to scrape back mindlessly against the floor. "Get her out of here," she ordered Olyvar, "take her to her room." He nodded at her, and gently lifted Shirei up into his arms. Shirei began to try and reach for her once she realised what was happening, "No! Avariella no! Please don't go!" Her screams echoed through the hall long after they had left. I don't want too, she thought sadly before quickly shaking her head and telling herself harshly, you must be strong Avariella. You must change his mind. Surely her father had some shred of humanity within him left. He must. A part of him must love us, no matter how small.
Her hands felt sweaty at her sides. Avariella took a deep breath and clenched her hands into fists before summoning the scraps of her courage that remained and walked towards her father, who had seated back down. The room had grown slightly louder since Shirei had left, but people were slowly taking notice of her stalking up to her Lord Father with a wild look in her eye. Lord Walder Frey however, looked unimpressed as he looked up at her hazily, as though she were a fly that was annoying him.
"What do you want?" he snarled at her, his mouth still full with food as he spoke. She tried to hide her disgust at the sight, and calmly began, "My lord father, I am here to—"
"If you plan on asking me to change my mind the answer is no," he father interrupted flippantly, swallowing the food in his mouth. Avariella felt her heart drop to her stomach, her eyes widening slightly. She felt unsettled at his carelessness, which may not have been unusual behaviour from her father it was still unnerving to see her father care so little about them. Still, she took another deep breath, and tried again. "Father," she said quietly, leaning forward so that her hands rested on the high table, "I beseech you to change your mind. Send Shirei in my stead, I beg of you." Her father peered at her mistrustfully and snorted, "And why would I do that?" She was fighting a losing battle, and she knew it. He knew it too. "If you bore any love for my mother and my brother— your son who died, you will please do this for me, for them—"
"And did they ask you to do that from their graves hmm?" her father asked, before coughing once more, "No," he quickly stated before she had a chance to answer, "You want me to send Shirei so you do not have to go." Avariella felt herself flinch at his words, but forced herself to try again, "Father I beg of you, do not let Shirei stay here on her own if you love her—"
"I hope you realise how unloved and unwanted you really are, even by your own children," her father quoted, his blue eyes blazing, "That is what you said to me." Avariella felt her cheeks flush with shame and frustration, and stood there silently as her father continued, "You will go to the North and do what women do best; allow their husbands to squirt children into their belly. You are pretty, prettier than that little pest you are so fond of. You will go to the North and that is final." Avariella felt as though everything within her had been drained out. All her anger, and determination and grief and shock and emotion had vanished into thin air, leaving nothing but emptiness in its' place. She turned around to look at the King, who was already staring at her. You're a king! She yelled at him internally, do something you coward! But he did nothing and simply stared as her life was ripped right out of her.
She stumbled backwards, and Avariella felt as though she were not in control of her body. Everything was suddenly dream like and foggy as she made her way out of the hall deliriously, giggles erupting from her throat as she reached the end of the hall. She bumped into a servant on her way out, and clumsily commanded her to bring two jugs of wine to her chambers.
That was how Olyvar found her, gods-know-how long later, with a cup of wine in her hands and the first jug half-empty. "Welcome!" she said loudly, though her mind was only faintly hazy. Avariella could only imagine how she looked in that moment; defeated, mad and broken. "I take it father did not change his mind?" he asked carefully, shutting the door behind him with a soft thud. There were a few candles lit throughout her room, which she had somehow managed to do despite her. . .condition. Avariella barked out a bitter laugh and took another swing from her cup, "You don't say," she muttered sarcastically.
Olyvar eyed her carefully, before walking over to her and sitting beside her on the foot of the bed, their legs resting on the chest right in front of it. The silence was thick and heavy as they sat there, both at a loss for what to say. "You did everything you could," he told her softly, raising a hand to her shoulder. Avariella stiffened under his comforting hand, but did not shake it off. "It wasn't enough," she said tonelessly, her chest void of any emotion except for this hollowness that was slowly consuming her whole. "You told me that the Stark's were men of their word," she whispered, taking another sip of her wine, her cup almost empty, "This is all his fault." She didn't have to clarify who he was.
Olyvar stiffened beside her and quickly came to his defence, much to her annoyance, "His hands were tied Avariella, his grace would have kept his end of the bargain if not for the soldiers—"
"Why are you defending him?" she cried, her eyes wide with horror as she managed to slide off the bed, turning around to look at him furiously, "Why do worship him so?" Olyvar shook his head, his mouth opening to defend himself, "I do not—"
"Yes, you do!" Avariella accused, some wine spilling from her cup due to her frantic hand gestures. "This is all his fault Olyvar, we wouldn't even have to be in a position for him to 'hold his end of the bargain' if he had just kept his cock in his pants!" She was shouting now, her throat raw and aching, "Avos wouldn't be dead if he had just gone home and sworn fealty! Hells, if his father hadn't gone down to King's Landing the war would never have happened!" A tear was streaming down her cheek, and it burned her. Her shoulder's sunk as she stared at him helplessly, and her chest began to heave. "No matter what way I look at it," she whispered, sniffing, "This is all his fault. And I will never forgive him for it, Olyvar. I won't." A pause. "I can't."
Olyvar's eyes were gentle as he looked at her, "You can't say these things to other's Avariella—"
"I'm not an imbecile," she snapped, her tears instantly gone, and her back straightened like an arrow. "I wasn't saying you are," Olyvar told her gently, "but if they catch word of these things they will condemn you—" Avariella snorted at that, and quickly poured herself some more wine from where the jugs sat on the table nearby. "They are already condemning me to a life of misery," she said tonelessly, her back to him. She felt him move off the bed, and start to walk to her. "Avariella—"
"Don't," she snapped, raising a hand. She felt him halt in his steps, and could practically feel his pity slamming into her like the waves of the sea on a bank. "Just go," she whispered impassively, taking a sip of her wine, liking the burn it gave her throat. Olyvar still wasn't moving. "Get out," she snapped, "Just. . . just leave me alone." She had said those same words to Roslin months before, but for entirely different reasons and yet for the same effect. She wanted to be alone. You fool, her mind whispered, you should have just kept to yourself. It had all been for nothing. Helping Roslin, bonding with Shirei, making something close to peace with the both of them. . . it had all been for nought.
I should have just stayed alone.
Olyvar left without a word.
The pounding in her head wouldn't stop. Avariella groaned loudly as her eyes fluttered open and curled back into herself on the bed. Her head was aching with an intensity that had her stomach in knots and bile rising up her throat. "Ugh," she murmured against her pillow. She had finished both jugs of wine over the night, and had fallen asleep only a few hours before. It took her a moment or two to remember why she had been drinking so much and the realisation made her heart clench painfully in her chest. Gods, she thought, before her mouth twisted into a scowl. The gods hadn't done anything to help her. Neither had the oh-so-precious King in the North. The thought of him made her stomach churn and she slowly propped herself up on her elbow, her hair brushing into her eyes as she moved. She flipped her hair back with a small huff, her head spinning due to the effort that simple action took.
Once the spinning in her head had stopped, she gradually began to climb out of bed, her eyes darting around the room for any sign of vomit. She was grateful that there wasn't, for now, at least. When she managed to walk to the bedpost she stumbled on a bucket near the foot of her bed. She frowned down at it, and realised that someone must have been in her room whilst she slept. Arra probably put it there. The thought may have made her heart warm if it were not for her suddenly retching into the bucket, her throat burning as tears streamed down her eyes. She made sure that her hair was tucked behind her face with her hands as she continued on vomiting, her stomach churning. Once she was finished, she slumped down next to the bucket on the ground, the stone cold against her cheek. Avariella did not know how long she lay there, breathing, until Arra came in with a bucket of water for her bath.
"My lady!" she heard Arra gasp, and the door shut with a loud bang, causing her to groan. "Are you alright?" Arra asked, kneeling down beside her and gently pulling her upper body upwards. "That. . . that need's emptying," Avariella murmured tiredly, "And mint leaves, I need—"
"Shh, shh, yes milady I will fetch you some mint leaves," Arra interrupted, and somehow managed to prop her up against the bed as she rose and went back for the bucket. Avariella watched detachedly as she moved to the other side of the room and poured the water into the tub behind the bathing screen. She began to mumble feebly under her breath, her mind sluggish. Arra's legs came into view before Avariella felt arms wrapping themselves around her waist, and pulling her upwards until she was on her feet. "Thank you," she mumbled, a large part of her hair moving in front of her face once more. Avariella held onto one of the bed posts as Arra worked at undoing the laces of her dress and the shift under it. Once the garments had loosened, Avariella mindlessly pulled them down her body, eager to be rid of the sticky and sweaty dress, shift and small clothes she had slept in. "Come, my lady," Arra murmured, wrapping Avariella's arm around her shoulder so that she could support her.
Avariella nearly jumped at the feeling of the water beneath her toes, and it was thanks to Arra that she didn't fall over onto the ground. She sunk down into the water slowly, the warmth soaking through her body, though the coldness she felt did not lessen. "Do you want to go to the North," she murmured, sounding as though she were a mad woman. Arra stilled beside her, and asked her quietly, "Would m'lady wish for me to go to the North with her?" Avariella shrugged carelessly and mumbled back something incomprehensible. Avariella wrapped her arms around her knee's and buried her face into her arms, as though she were trying to hide herself. Arra began to lift water onto her head, causing her red mane to cling to her scalp. "Perhaps the North will not be so bad," Arra said in a poor attempt to cheer her up, "There may be many things for you in the North—"
"There's nothing," Avariella whispered, "There is nothing for me there, there is nothing for me here." She let out a bitter laugh that broke after a moment, and rested her chin on her knee's. "There is nothing left, Arra. There is nothing of me left. Everything has been broken down and stripped away," she breathed brokenly. Arra opened her mouth to protest before Avariella quickly cut her off, "Please just go," she said gently, "Thank you for your help but I need to be alone." Arra nodded but stayed still for a moment, looking as though she were about to say something before changing her mind. She left quietly, after she had picked up the empty bucket by the tub, the dirty clothes, and the bucket filled with her—
Avariella blocked the thought from her mind, and sunk deeper into the water until her face was submerged. She lay there under the water until her lungs began to burn and her eyes began to bulge out of their sockets. She coughed out some water but was otherwise alright. At least, physically alright. The pounding in her head had dulled somewhat, and she lay there in the tub for a long while. Long enough that Arra had come back with some mint leaves and some water for her to drink. By the time Avariella clambered out of the tub it was well past midday and she dressed herself in her white swimming gown and cloak, and brushed her hair whilst chewing on some mint leaves.
It was a strange feeling, she decided, leaving the Twins. When she was younger she had longed to leave the Twins if only to escape the stinking halls and leering drunkards. She had longed to leave with Roslin, Olyvar, Shirei and Avos by her side. Especially Avos. He would have become a knight and serve her husbands household and then marry and live in a nearby keep to her own. They would have been happy, in her daydreams as a child. Now, those daydreams were wishes that would never come true. Avos was dead, Roslin was gone, Shirei would be left behind in this hell they call a home, and she was going to the North. The North which was barren and dull and grey and nothing like her home. The life inside of her would be sucked out like a leech, Avariella was sure of it. Then she would be married off to the suitor who had the most to offer her father and watch helplessly as one of her children would be sold off to one of the Kings children. When he eventually had one, that is. The thought made her want to be sick once more.
She placed her brush down on the nightstand and looked around her room. She would have to begin packing soon, for when they were to leave. It suddenly occurred to Avariella that she had no idea when they were leaving, or how long she would be staying in Winterfell. Now that she thought of it, she had no clue as to what eligible 'suitors' the Northerners had. Would they all be like Roose Bolton? She shivered at the thought but then grimaced at the thought of marrying a northman that looked like a bear. Grim and dour, that's how the Northerners were described throughout the seven kingdoms. Six now, she corrected herself, and then one independent Kingdom. She realised in that moment how little she knew of the North. When she had first heard of the marriage contract between her House and House Stark, she had wanted to read more about the North, truly she had. But she had been caught up with taking care of Shirei and finding gold for her father and managing the coin spent during the war and recording how much was lost and gained during the war in her ledgers. Avariella had made sure that their larder's were fully stored in case winter came. She hadn't had the time to even think of Winterfell during the days, and at nights when she thought of her possible husband, she quickly thought of her brothers instead.
Now, she had had all the time in the world to learn about the North. Except why would she have? She despised— despises— the Stark's with every fibre of her being, and she never expected to set foot in the North. And now look at her; the Northern Frey or the would-be-Northern- Frey. She would have laughed if not for the emptiness that still consumed her. Avariella made her way out of her room but before she did that she removed the mint leaves from her mouth, and winced at the sound of the door closing. Her head was still somewhat sore but it was getting better slowly. Gradually.
The chamber hallway was quiet as she walked down it, no whispers echoing through the doors, no sounds of someone moving within their chambers. Nothing. It was rather late in the day Avariella knew that, but she was still somewhat surprised. It was a rare occasion that a place in the Twins was relatively quiet, especially in the East Castle. When she made her way down to the ground floor of the Twins, she was surprised to see another crowd outside the great hall as she walked past it. She frowned at the sight of the crowd before her frown deepened at the sound of a voice raising within the great hall, echoing through the closed wooden doors.
"Welcome," Olyvar said suddenly, standing next to her, "You look well." By the dryness in his voice, she knew he was lying, but she didn't have the heart to call him out on it. Every movement she made felt as though it needed twice the effort, and her heart seemed to have vanished into thin air. Or it had hardened into stone overnight. Yet still, she found herself asking, "Olyvar, what is going on?" Last time this happened— dear gods was it only yesterday?— the worst possible thing had occurred. Olyvar raised his eyebrows at her, his eyes flickering, "The King has requested a meeting with father."
Avariella merely raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. "And?" she prompted, her eyes dull. She no longer gave a damn as to what the Stark did, he had already proven himself useless twice before; she had been a fool to trust him a second time. Olyvar shrugged at her and murmured, "Shirei wanted to come and see you but I convinced her to go to her lessons instead. . . I thought you would rather her not see you like that." Like what? Avariella thought? Beaten? Broken down? Broken? She had seen her like that before, in the weeks that followed after Avos's death. Or she should say, after she had found out that Avos had died. Avariella remembered how she had stared at the wall, unmoving and uncaring of the world around her, and how she had shrunk into herself. Olyvar must have been thinking the same since he winced at his words, but before he could continue she brushed past him.
Avariella hurriedly exited the hall and made her way to the kennels without a care in the world. No one can touch me now, she thought, I'm the one Walder Frey chose. Mayhap's she was still slightly drunk, and that drove her to this foolishness; she didn't know nor did she care. If Ser Trent or any other drunk tried to touch her her father would have them punished. Unlike last time, she thought rancorously and folded her arms in front her chest. There was some leering here and there by the drunkards that lingered in the small alleyways and corners but she was otherwise left alone. Just a few more moments, she told herself, you're almost there. The kennels were a small, dirty place that stunk of dog shit and hay, but there was no other place to put Max so she brushed past it with grace.
A man called Willis was the kennel master of the Twins, and she supposed that he was decent enough, as far as men from the Twins went. He always had a litter of children fluttering around the area, that were always loud and laughing. "Stop that Rae!" he was yelling at one of his children as she appeared by the doorway. "Oh," he said when he noticed her, startled, "Welcome milady," he murmured, averting his eyes from her empty gaze. He must have heard of what happened, she decided. No one knew how to act around her, they treated her as though she were made of glass and would break at the slightest push. Too late, she thought wryly, I'm already broken. He knew without her needing to say it that he should go get Max, and soon enough after she heard some chains clanging together and a gate opening Max bounded over towards her, barking happily. "Hi boy," she murmured, petting his head. Her eyes flickered up to look at Willis, who was already looking at her. He flushed a bright red when he realised that he was caught and just before she left he called out after her, "M'lady!"
She halted in her steps and turned to look at him, arching an eyebrow. "I. . . I'll take care of him when you go, milady. He will be well taken care of and. . . you will be missed." Avariella stood there, staring at him for a few moments in silence before she murmured back, "Thank you, Willis. . . I appreciate that very much." She offered him a small smile that did not match the look in her eyes or how she felt inside and walked out of the room, the smile instantly sliding off her face.
Max stayed close to her as they made the way to the gates and instantly what little attention she had before was gone. Max was arguably the most feared thing in the Twins after the attack by Ser Trent, despite him being very young. She remembered how small her loyal friend had been when Avos had given him to her for her thirteenth name day. Oh how the time has gone, she thought sadly, and for the first time that day she actually felt something other than emptiness.
They were still quite a distance away from the gate when she caught sight of the group of men. Max instantly began to growl as he caught sight of them as well, snarling so strongly his teeth were showing. "C'mon wench show us what you go under those clothes of your's!" one of them was yelling, no doubt already drunk. How drunk, Avariella thought, a look of distaste appearing on her face. The man who had just yelled stepped forward, revealing Ser Trent next to him. Her heart dropped to her stomach at the sight of him, and she began to walk faster because the memories of him atop of her were doing back and how she had cried until—
"This one has a tan on her!" Ser Trent was booming, his voice slurred, "A foreign whore!"
No, Avariella thought in disbelief, the fool. It couldn't be. And yet she stopped in her steps with a small sigh and tried to take a better look. Then, sure enough, the Queen in the North was standing there, her back against a wall with her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed. "What the. . ." she breathed, stalking up to the men, with Max growling louder and louder as she grew closer.
"What in the seven hells are you doing?" she cried, brushing past the men to reach the Queen. "That is the Queen you fools," she snarled at them, looking at them with disgust in her eyes. The men instantly paled and took a step back, their eyes widening with fear much to her satisfaction. The Queen stood next to her quietly, her eyes downcast. "Go," she commanded, Max getting ready to pounce, "Now!" They scampered off without a second thought.
"Thank you," the Queen stated, her brown eyes looking stronger that she looked, "I fear they would not have stopped if you hadn't come by, my lady." Avariella regarded the Queen with a cold look and muttered back, "They wouldn't have, your grace." I know that all too well. The sound of Ser Trent's cries as Max ripped off two of his fingers echoed in her ears and she resisted the urge to flinch. "You should not venture here without a guard, your grace," she advised, her eyes flickering around the area as if to look for one. Why don't you have one already? she thought to herself, leaning down to pet Max, who was still tense with danger. "Calm down boy," she murmured, gently touching his head.
The Queen seemed to grow back into herself, her eyes becoming distant and yet still full of kindness. It struck her as odd that someone could seem so vacant and yet so there, her beauty commanding everyone's attention. Her eyes however, conveyed a deep sorrow and it was then that Avariella remembered that the Queen had lost her child a few months beforehand. A stillborn, if the rumours were correct. Her heart softened ever so slightly as she regarded Queen Talisa but the memory of her brother prevented her from offering any apologies. Sally, they all called her behind her back, a foreign whore who seduced the young wolf. Avariella didn't know what to make of her, the beautiful queen with sad eyes.
You have a beautiful bridge.
Avariella had not thought of they encounter for a long while and yet the words came to her now, echoing in her ears. She was suddenly struck with a eager desire to escape her company, as she felt as though she were about to suffocate. The Queen must have sensed it because she offered her a small smile and said, "I look forward to our next meeting, my lady. I hope that next time it can be under better circumstances." Avariella offered her a courteous smile and curtsied, but before the Queen walked off she said, "I hope we can both be happy in the North, at Winterfell."
And then she was gone, her strides fast and quick. The words bothered Avariella for multiple reasons. Firstly, she implied that they were a team— that they were a we. Avariella did not know how she felt about the Queen except for her natural distaste for the name she bore but she knew that she did not consider them a we. Secondly, the mere thought of her being happy there made her want to laugh. Avariella happy in Winterfell? No. Mayhap's she would be content with her husband, but happy? No. Never. And then finally, the way the Queen had worded it, she made it sound as though she were looking for happiness that she did not have here.
Avariella made her way to the gate with a huff, trying— and failing— to banish all thoughts of the Queen out of her mind. When she eventually exited the east castle gate the weight that was suddenly lifted off her shoulders was so substantial she nearly felt like a feather floating in the wind. Goodness, she thought, I may face an early death. When she eventually reached the small pool, she simply lay down on her cloak, staring up at the sky, which was a clear blue canvas with a bright yellow sun. She sighed peacefully, her limbs relaxing at her sides. This was her home. Her home was clear blue skies and bright yellow suns and cold pools of water and the sound of the Trident trickling down under her feet. She was not made for the North and it's grey skies and bitter winds and towering snow storms. She was a Southerner through and through. She was already a dead flower here in the South, in the North she would simply fall over and be stepped on repeatedly, like a weed.
Avos, her mind whispered, come back to me. I don't know what to do. The wind began to pick up, flattering through her hair as though her brother were answering her through the tree's. That kind of thinking is folly, she thought, turning onto her side, your brother is dead. She closed her eyes and thought of Roslin, of how she had been gone only two nights. "Dear gods," she whispered, "how did they make our lives hell so quickly?" At the thought of Roslin, her mind turned to the argument they had about this place. Her lips twisted up into a bitter smile as she cast a glance around the serene spot and nearly laughed at the thought of this place being haunted by 'bad spirits'. Still. she knew her half- sister meant well.
She had been twelve when the rumours had begun to spread around the Twins. She hadn't caught word of them before Avos had told her, red faced and angry. The rumour was that she was to be married to one of her father's banner men. Avariella remembered how she had paled so considerably she was the colour of snow. The man in question was a old man who was friends with her father, nearing sixty and had already gone through three wives and had a handful of heirs. The thought of her marrying someone so old— the thought of her father marrying her to someone so vulgar had been so horrible she had nearly collapsed onto the ground.
Avariella had hid from her father and the Lord, always making sure she was never in the same room as them. I have not bled yet, she used to say when she visited the Sept and prayed, Please, do not make me marry him. Please. She went to the Sept twice every day for a fortnight, with Avos accompanying her as well. Olyvar and Roslin had barely managed to look her in the eye they were so repulsed with the idea of her marrying him. The days continued like that until—
Until.
The lord was leaving the next day, and her and Avos had decided to go to the small lake. They had been young and filled with excitement as they made their way there, eager to swim under the hot sun. Until they had reached the small lake. It had been the first time Avariella and Avos had seen a dead body, and she would never forget it.
They hadn't seen it at first or at least Avariella hadn't, until she had seen the look of horror on Avos's face. He had told her to look away as he moved closer to the water but she didn't. The man was on his back in the water, with crows picking at his eyes and at his open mouth. The Maester said it was his heart that took him. Avariella and Avos had never gone back there together or at all.
And Avariella had never forgotten the guilt that hit her since.
When Avariella eventually made her way back to the East castle the sun was still in the sky. She knew better than to stay there until sunset, when the rapers and thieves came lurking about. It had been a miracle she had never been attacked during the day despite the closeness of which the small lake was to the Twins.
Fortunately enough, her whole body had dried from when she had swam a few hours before so she was not overtly eager to go change her clothes. When she made her way around the ground level she was suddenly overcome with the sound of someone crying. She sped up her strides at the familiar sound, suddenly consumed with worry. "Shirei!" she called out loudly, the sobs growing louder. She had just turned the corner when Shirei rammed into her stomach, wrapping her arms around her waist tightly.
"Shirei what is it?" she asked worriedly, "What's wrong—"
"Avariella!" Olyvar called out, looking slightly breathless. Avariella frowned at him as she put her hands on Shirei's head, and began stroking her hair in an attempt to calm her down. "What—"
"You missed the big announcement father and the King just made," Olyvar interrupted shortly, his eyes large and filled with shock, as though he himself had not quite processed what had happened. "You will be leaving within a fortnight," he informed her, blinking rapidly. Avariella watched him carefully, knowing he wasn't finished. "And?" she prompted, her heart thumping quickly in her chest. Olyvar swallowed loudly and looked down at the ground beneath them, "And Shirei has been betrothed to Lewys Piper, a boy of ten and four and a squire. She will leave for Pinkmaiden Castle within a moon's turn."
Avariella let out a tired gasp, her shoulders hunching up as defeat and tiredness flooded through her. Dear gods, she thought, haven't you done enough? She began to pull at Shirei's arms so that she could crouch down and face her. Shirei's face was wet with tears and her eyes were as red as blood due to her crying. "Shirei," she said, grasping onto her shoulder's tightly, "I need you to stop crying." Shirei hiccupped and tried to nod, but another sob broke through her lips. "Shh, Shirei, you have to stop crying. You are almost a woman grown and you are so strong. Stronger than I could ever be, alright?" The tears which were once streaming down her face furiously had now begun to slow. "That's it," Avariella whispered, offering her little half-sister a small smile, "You're strong Shirei. No man is worth your tears." Shirei hiccupped quietly, and wiped at her eyes. "Remember our words," Avariella told her passionately, "We will always have each other Shirei. You will write to me and Roslin and we shall write back."
"What if I never see you again?" Shirei asked, her voice but a mere whisper. She didn't ask about Roslin. Roslin was still in the Riverrlands, while Avariella would go to the North. The North where so very few people ventured or came down South. "You will," Avariella whispered fiercely, hugging her tightly, "You will," she whispered into her hair.
She hoped she would be able to keep her promise.
A/N Alright guys, I have to admit, I planned on this chapter having more content but I decided to end it there. I hope you all enjoyed this and that it was worth the wait. Sorry about that guys, it's just I was busy with my other story — which is almost done— and I'm eager to finish it by the end of this week and yeah. Sorry, I know it's a shitty excuse. Thank you to all those who have supported this story, it means so much to me. I hope you all enjoyed this! Tell me your thoughts! Until next time,
Fionakevin073