Chapter 11
When Avariella had agreed to Lady Catelyn's proposition, she was not quite sure what to expect. A part of her was still torn over her decision – glad to be of help but agonizing over who she needed to be around in order for that to happen.
The first day of their new arrangement led to Avariella following around Lady Stark for most of the day. This, to an outsider's eye, may not have been any different to what came before, but Avariella had been in the lady's presence enough now that she noticed the differences. When Lady Catelyn spoke to anyone – the Maester, a stonemason, the guards, the smiths – she turned to Avariella as if to ensure she was listening, casting her cool eyes on her as if to make sure she was paying attention.
Should I have a piece of parchment and take notes? Avariella thought, but her moment of snarkiness faded fast. It was only the first day that Avariella had started to pay attention to what was occurring around her, and she wondered as to how Lady Catelyn never seemed amiss amidst all these people coming to her for guidance, how she always seemed to have answer for pretty much anything.
Avariella almost cowered at someone in Winterfell asking her questions about supplies and grains and barrels and being expected to know the answers off the top of her head. When she had been at the Twins – Gods, that felt so long ago now – she had always had the ledgers with her. Her arms used to ache from carrying them around all day. She had reorganized them, had spent several hours spilling into the night rewriting everything carefully and organizing the information in a way that was coherent and easy to find. Roslin had helped her then.
Avariella paused when she thought of her elder sister. She wondered for a long time who was helping her adjust to life as Lady of Riverrun; not only Lady of the castle, but wife to one of the Great Lords of Westeros, nephew to the King in the North. She hoped desperately there was someone there to assist her, that Edmure Tully was more than just a man desperate for a pretty face.
As if on cue, when Avariella returned to her small tent that evening she received letters from both Roslin and Shirei. It had been over a moon since she arrived at Winterfell and these were the first letters she had received from her sisters since Avariella had written back.
There was a large amount of trepidation lingering inside her. Olyvar.
Avariella ripped the seal of Shirei's letter open with trembling hands.
Dear Avariella,
Life at Pinkmaiden Castle is quite different to that of home. I miss it very much. But my betrothed's family are very nice so far. I haven't seen much of Lewys, but I noticed that he had a bright smile.
Hopefully he likes the same things that I do! Father hasn't said when we are to be wed. I've heard people say it will be a few years after I first bleed. I hope it won't be too painful. I remember what you and Roslin and our Septa told me about it. Lady Pipar is quite nice too. She seems a bit shy now. Lord Pipar died during the war, so Lewys' older brother Marq is now Lord. He seems to be a rather happy fellow, and he's friends with Lord Edmure, so perhaps I can go and see Roslin. . .
Avariella read the rest of Shirei's letter with a fond smile until the end.
I hope you and Olyvar are taking care of each other! I love and miss you both.
Love,
Shirei.
Avariella put down the letter as her heart sank down to her stomach. A bitter taste grew on her tongue, made her frown deeply as she raised her hands over her chest, as if to try and soothe the ache.
I never wanted you to lie for me, Avos whispered in her mind.
Avariella almost jumped at the thought; unbidden, and so vivid it was almost as though her brother were there in the flesh. Ever since she struggled over her confrontation with Lady Catelyn, her twin had lingered in her mind, a constant presence lingering in the back of her subconscious.
Coward, he had called her.
"You're the coward," she whispered. Her cheeks warmed at the reminder that no one else was in the tent with her. "What am I supposed to do now, hmm? Lie, like you tried to force Olyvar to do?"
She exhaled sharply and reached for Roslin's letter, opening it with a tired sigh.
Her eyes flickered over her elder sister's writing, taking note of how happy she sounded. She still seemed to like Edmure Tully a great deal, took a long time describing the climate in the Riverlands, the way of the castle, the people now under her command.
The Maester here is quite informative and pleasant to be around, quite unlike Maester Brennet, who was always so fearful of gaining our father's ire. Oh, Avariella. I so wish you could come to see me one day. I've managed to convince my husband of allowing Shirei to visit me soon. . .
Avariella felt her herself grow lighter and lighter as she read more of Roslin's letter. I'm glad that you're safe and happy. Reading her descriptions of the sunny days and warm waters surrounding Riverrun made Avariella crave the sunlight, made her miss her days swimming in the pond. She could almost touch it, taste it, feel it. She closed her eyes tightly. But she wasn't there anymore; she was here, in this barren wasteland, with people she barely knew, the leaders of whom she disliked. I am a child of Summer and sun and water.
In that moment, she believed it.
Avariella took a moment to compose herself, and then continued.
It's been three months since my husband and I were wed, Avariella. I wanted to wait until I told him, but I suppose by the time you've received this letter, either the Maester will have told him – despite me asking him not to – or I will have. I am with child. I am not yet ten and eight and I am to be a mother. Oh, my sister, I am both terrified and happy. The birthing bed is something we both know to be a dangerous place, but I am confident that all will be well. This is not the Twins, after all. Be happy for me, Avariella, and not just because I am your sister, but for me and my husband as well. I hope this babe can be a new beginning for us all. Love your niece or nephew not for half of their blood, but for all of who they are.
I hope you and Olyvar are well.
I love and miss you both.
Your ever-loving sister,
Roslin.
Avariella knew it was coming. Hells, she had even told Olyvar Roslin was with child before it was even confirmed. But to have Roslin say it so explicitly was something Avariella was too stunned to accept. Roslin, her shy and sweet sister was with child? She was to be a mother? Avariella heard her heart beating furiously in her ears and sank down on the side of her cot because she felt her legs grow weak.
I am to be an aunt, she thought.
She tried to imagine a child of Roslin's, and surprisingly found it much easier than picturing a child of her own. After all, even though she and Avos had been the first to take Shirei under their wing, it was Roslin who had always been more even tempered, even if it was sometimes overshadowed by her shyness and insecurity. Avariella did not believe Roslin had ever lost her temper with Shirei.
She remembered so vividly her and Avos taking Shirei under their wing. Roslin had taken a while to open to the notion – hells, they had been eight years of age at the time, - for she was so shy, but once she had. . .
Avariella recalled the look in Roslin's eye when she had told Avariella 'not to go away again'. How fierce she had looked. Avariella may have been the leader of their little group throughout their childhood, up until they were sixteen, but Roslin had taken care of Shirei when it truly mattered. She had been strong, hadn't fallen apart. Indeed, her sister had grown a lot from that demure girl she'd once been.
Avariella had been too preoccupied with her own grief to really notice.
Her thoughts drifted towards the end of Roslin's letter. I will love your child, Roslin, she thought. I will love them with all my heart. But I'm not sure I will ever look at your husband without a trace of bitterness and grief.
A few days afterwards, Avariella found Lady Catelyn talking quietly to Lady Brienne in the courtyard in Winterfell, where they all began their day.
"Good," the auburn hair woman said. "You're here, Lady Frey. We must go to receive the newly arrived group of nobles."
Avariella tried to contain her surprise as she followed the woman out of the tent, walking briskly to keep up with her pace.
"My lady, forgive me, but of whom do you speak?"
"The Lady Mormont and her daughter Dacey Mormont have arrived from their travels across the North. They and another band of nobles were charged with ensuring that the remaining ironborne were chased out of the North."
"I—"
Avariella cut herself off before she could finish that sentence. She'd heard rumours that the Dragon Queen went and burned Pyke to the ground with her dragons, that the King sent a force to retake Winterfell, and even larger one to chase the rest out of the North.
Lady Catelyn continued: "My son sent various Lords and Ladies out to also aide the villagers with rebuilding their homes for the upcoming winter."
How good of him, Avariella thought and then felt instantly ashamed. It was a good thing of him to do; her father certainly wouldn't have cared.
Lady Catelyn led them to the East Gate and Avariella was surprised to find the King already there. She hadn't seen him up close since their encounter in the Godswood. Her stomach lurched dangerously, and she was infinitely grateful that Olyvar was not there.
"Mother," the King acknowledged, sparing Lady Catelyn a fleeting smile.
His hair – which had looked truly auburn under the sun at the Twins – now looked more like a muted brown, with only faint traces of red that someone who had not seen it before would have thought they were imagining things.
Even the life out of him is drained by this cold land, she thought.
"Your grace," Lady Catelyn replied, pausing a moment. "Robb."
It was one of the first times Avariella had heard his name without any title or mention of his last name, and it felt strange, somehow, caused something inside her to twinge uncomfortably.
"Your grace," Avariella said, lowering her head as she curtsied.
She felt his gaze on her even though she wasn't looking.
"Lady Frey," he returned.
She detected no emotion in his voice; no anger, or pity or annoyance. Avariella lifted her gaze and found his expression lacking; a face set in stone. You truly are a King of Ice, she thought. She imagined for a moment that his expression resembled that of the tales of White Walkers, and it took a great effort for her not to laugh in his face.
"My lady."
Avariella almost jumped at the sound of the Blackfish. She had seen the old man in passing since their arrival at Winterfell; no doubt he had been wondering about as the King wished, assisting him as he settled into his kingdom after a long absence. The Blackfish did not appear bothered by the cold; his expression remained the same as it always had in her presence, grim and stern, with a glint of awareness in his Tully eyes.
"Ser," she replied, careful to hide how startled she was. "How do you do?"
"Quite well, thank you," he said, near dismissive. He paused a moment, and then looked at her with such scrutiny she almost snapped at him. She wondered what Lady Catelyn had said to him about their arrangement. Her heart dropped. She wondered what the King had told him.
"I'm afraid my earlier prediction was wrong, my lady," the Blackfish commented.
Avariella blinked to hide her confusion.
"Ser?"
"The construction of Winterfell will take far longer than two moons, as I had said on our travel North."
Avariella recalled that dinner now, how she had laughed after she left the tent when she heard Lady Catelyn and the Queen quarreling, with Olyvar by her side.
"No doubt you had put that together by now," he finished, as though there were somehow a possibility she hadn't.
Avariella wondered how foolish Lord Edmure had been for his uncle to have such little faith in other people's awareness. Poor Roslin, she thought. I hope my niece or nephew has better brains.
Avariella's gaze narrowed slightly as she stared at the Blackfish. She wondered if any of them knew the truth about Roslin – if the old man did, somehow. No, she thought. I doubt the Blackfish would even offer Lord Edmure praise for the deed anyhow.
She opened her mouth to respond, but she was cut off by the sound of horses trotting through the gate. At once, she stepped slightly behind Lady Catelyn, watching as the Blackfish moved to the other side of the King, standing there stoically. As a matter of fact, they were all stoic looking, Tully and Starks alike. By the Gods, they could be statues.
It was a small party that entered through the gate and Avariella noticed the banners the soldiers carried. One had a black bear on a white field, surrounded by green borders. House Mormont, her mind provided helpfully.Here we stand.
Our Septa would be proud, Avos chided in her head.
It took her longer to notice the other banner, one of two rusted longaxes with black shafts crossed, with a black crown between their points on a field of yellow. Various House names fluttered through her mind as she struggled to identify the house. Dustin, she thought, just as the horses came to a stop. House Dustin.
Avariella tried to hide her surprise when she caught sight of the three women. Two were dressed in armour, one was not. The eldest was a short, stout, grey-haired woman and was, to Avariella's continued astonishment – one of the ones dressed in armour. Her hair was long and messy, and two braids seemed lost in her tangled hair. She looked strong and well, for lack of better phrase, Northern. The other woman next to her was a giant, almost as tall as Lady Brienne, though considerably lankier. Her hair was a shiny black, her chin strong and jutting, and though she was dressed in armor, she still retained a sense of elegance, despite the longsword attached to her belt.
Maege and Dacey Mormont, she remembered. Avos had written to her about the former in the few letters he had been allowed to write; They say she and her daughters are skinchangers, that she mated with a bear and they are the fathers of her children. Her eldest Alysane said the same for her own children; she is unmarried and no one knows who the father is, he had written.
Avariella had wondered about the strange family and now she was witnessing them in the flesh. Her gaze drifted to the last woman, and she was somewhat relieved to find her in a dress instead of armor. It had been strange enough seeing Brienne wearing armor, let alone the Mormont women as well.
This woman, whose name she did not yet know, was quite handsome. Her hair had streaks of grey at the roots, but the rest was honey colored, and tied back in a widow's knot. Her nose was rather long, but it suited her face quite well, and her eyes were large, with wrinkles gracing the sides of her mouth.
Avariella shot Lady Catelyn a glance from the corner of her eye, and was surprised to find her face momentarily pinched, as though she were displeased. It disappeared quickly enough, but it had been there all the same.
All at once, Avariella wanted to meet this woman who had made Lady Catelyn momentarily lose her composure.
The women approached and curtsied appropriately, the Mormonts looking rather clumsy as they did.
"Your grace," they uttered.
"Welcome, my ladies, I hope your travels were pleasant," the King said. His gaze seemed to linger on Lady Dustin.
"Lady Barbrey," he said. Unlike his mother, he managed to hide his annoyance, if that was even what he felt. "As glad as we are to receive you here in Winterfell, we were originally expecting your son. I hope he is not ill?"
"No, he is not, your grace," Lady Barbrey replied smoothly, looking unbothered by her sudden appearance. "I fear he suffered an injury shortly before he arrived in Barrowtown after his travels across the North, assisting various Houses and hunting down the rest of the iron borne. The Maester advised it better for him to rest, after the injury seemed to trouble him still."
The excuse seemed plausible enough, but something inside her told her the Lady was lying, or at least partially hiding the truth. She wondered as to why, and then she saw Lady Barbrey's gaze flicker towards her, for just a split second.
A shiver ran up her spine as she wondered how old exactly Lady Barbrey's son was. As if she could sense her apprehension, Lady Catelyn moved forward, as if to shield her from Lady Barbrey's view.
Avariella watched as the two women greeted each other cordially, if rather coolly, and was suddenly struck with the realization that Lady Barbrey disliked Lady Catelyn.
And perhaps the King too.
The possibility raised Avariella's spirits.
Remember, remember, something that eerily sounded like her brother sang in her mind. You know the truth, as does he.
"This is Lady Avariella Frey," Lady Catelyn was saying, grabbing Avariella's attention.
She almost flushed when she realized they were all looking at her with interest.
"Lady Mormont," she said, to the eldest women. "Lady Dacey."
She struggled to hide her apprehension.
"Lady Barbrey. It is a pleasure to meet you all."
"And you, child," Lady Maege said gruffly, though her eyes looked surprisingly kind.
Lady Barbrey remained quiet, though her gaze was still appraising her critically, as though Avariella was a piece of meat.
"Likewise," she said finally.
Avariella resisted the urge to blanch.
It took a few more minutes of quiet discussion for the King to suggest the ladies and the Blackfish follow him to his tent on the far side of the castle to speak of their success, and Avariella felt a weight lift off her soldiers when Lady Barbrey joined them.
When she looked at Lady Catelyn, she was surprised to find her eyes already on her. For a moment, it looked as though the Stark woman wished to say something. I don't want your advice, Avariella thought. I don't want your pity.
Lady Catelyn did not say a word.
All day, Avariella thought longingly of writing to her sisters.
Dear Roslin, she would start.
Today, I saw more women in armor than I have in my entire life. Also, some Northern Lady came to Winterfell, and I suspect she came to see if I was tolerable enough to be wed to her son. How wonderful.
Avariella sighed and tried to hide how tired she was. She followed Lady Catelyn around and tried her best to seem interest whenever some stone mason would approach and ramble on about supplies and resources and needing more men on the South Wall. Avariella wondered how Lady Catelyn managed being so patient, with the same men coming to her day after day, complaining of the same problems and having to provide the same explanations and solutions she had the day before.
Avariella had not had that issue during her time at the Twins.
Had she?
Avariella now struggled to recall, her mind felt so groggy.
"Lady Frey," Lady Catelyn said rather sternly.
She almost jumped at the sound of her voice and felt oddly like a little child being scolded by her Septa for not paying attention during her lessons.
"Apologies, Lady Catelyn," she murmured.
"We shall go and supervise some of the mending," the elder woman continued.
Avariella nodded, and followed, as was now common. Lady Brienne escorted them to one of the renovated parts of Winterfell, near the edge of the outer courtyards. It was one of the rooms they had managed to salvage. Avariella watched as Lady Brienne pushed open the door and she quietly followed the two women inside.
There was a small circle of women in the room, their shoulders hunched over as they carefully stitched and mended various items – cloaks, blankets, bandages, tunics. It took a moment for Avariella to notice that Jeyna, Wylla, Callin and Lyra were in the room. It took another for her to see Old Rosa near the back, a little outside of the circle, with needles in her hands as well. She was surprised the old woman had good enough eyesight to keep on mending clothing.
Jeyna caught Avariella's eye, and sent her a small smile, her eyes brightening with recognition. Avariella returned a small smile of her own and sent the others small nods as well. She didn't recognize anyone else.
"My ladies," some woman said, rising hastily to greet Lady Catelyn. "A pleasure to have you both."
"My apologies for not being able to come sooner," Lady Catelyn said, straight to business. "It has been quite hectic outside, but now I have found time for myself and Lady Avariella to assist you all where we can, now that supplies have begun to run low and Winter has started to approach."
Avariella, who had not noticed any discernible difference in the weather since she arrived (it was always grey and gloom, and very cold), almost snorted with derision. Winter is coming, she thought. Winter is always here with you people.
More chairs were brought to the circle for them, and Avariella was relieved to find that her chair was placed next to Jeyna, while Lady Catelyn remained at the head of the room.
She grabbed a pair of needles and a tunic that was in the "need of mending" pile and so sat down. The room was filled with the chattering of Lady Catelyn and the woman who had greeted them when they first arrived. Lady Brienne stood near the door, watching with a cool expression.
"Your companion is not with you, my lady," Jeyna whispered.
Avariella almost dropped her needles, had to tighten her hold on them.
She glanced at the elder girl and almost snorted.
"Max would abandon even me if I kept him in with me all day," she whispered back.
Jeyna let out a small a laugh and returned to her stitches. For a moment, as Avariella looked at the instruments in her hands, she knew not what to do. Roslin had always been brilliant with a needle; Avariella was slightly more than passable. It had been so long since she had done it.
This isn't class with your Septa, some part of her whispered. No need here for fancy designs or accurate sigils. They need something mended, plain and simple.
Avariella could do that. She could mend something and make it wearable.
She knew not how long she sat there with those women, but she knew it was long enough for her hands to start cramping and her throat to grow parched. She paused a moment to take a sip of water, saw Lyra doing the same.
"How is Lilly?" she asked.
Lyra looked mildly surprised for a moment, but it vanished quickly enough for it not to be rude.
"She is quite well, my lady, thank you for asking."
Avariella had grown used to the little girl's presence as they worked together, found she missed the girl's quiet determinism, her innocence that reminded her so much of Shirei.
"That's pleasing to hear," she heard herself say.
Her and Lyra conversed a little more on the matter, with Callin and Wylla chiming in every so often.
She didn't notice Lady Catelyn's scrutinizing gaze, or the looks of mild bewilderment and confusion on the other women's faces.
Avariella did not see Lady Barbrey or the other new arrivals for almost a week.
She didn't see Olyvar either – rarely saw the King as well.
It was the same with Rickon. There were moments where could have sworn she saw the little boy's shadow, or heard the sound of his laugh, but she would turn in that direction and he would not be there.
In truth, she was glad for his absence. Glad she could not see him. Her heart throbbed painfully at the thought. It was all still too soon, the wound too fresh – seeing him would reopen that, she knew it.
The fact also made her glad that Winterfell was still under construction. It allowed her to keep busy – to join the sewing circle with or without Lady Catelyn; to accompany the Stark lady when she was needed, to listen in on important discussions and actually appear like she was paying attention.
She didn't want to think about what life would be like when the castle was whole, when they all would live and dine together. Where she would truly be their ward.
Avariella tried her hardest not to think of that reality, or of what would come after that. That morn in her tent, she brushed her hair carefully and tied the upper pieces back, so it would not fall in her eyes. She made her way to the courtyards and caught sight of Lilly and Lyra in the line for food. They offered the workers some nourishment before they started their day.
Before Avariella could think better of it, she made her way to them.
"My lady," Lyra said, sounding slightly startled.
Max barked happily at the sight of Lilly, who offered the dog a wide smile and started to pet him. Avariella was glad for it; she had not been paying Max as much attention as usual she was now so busy. Now that more rooms had been refurbished, Lady Catelyn had recently moved them to take their meetings indoors, especially with their discussions with the Maester. It was rather crowded in there; they were also using the room for storage and the small table they had managed to cram in was full of ledgers and parchment and letters.
"Hello," Avariella responded, her gaze focusing on Lilly. "He's glad to see you."
"Good morning Lady Frey," Lilly chirped.
"Would you like to have him for the day?" Avariella jerked her head towards Max.
Lilly beamed excitedly.
"Yes please, milady!"
They were getting a few curious looks from those around them at the sound of Lilly's raised voice.
"Thank you, my lady," Lyra said. "Are you sure you will not miss him?"
"Maybe I will," Avariella said. "But I think him cross with me; I have been rather busy over the past few days. He has not been as spoiled as usual."
Lyra offered her a small smile and no protest.
Avariella was about to reply when she felt herself instinctively stiffen.
She turned her head to find Lady Barbrey staring at her intently, having been conversing with Lady Dacey. Their gazes held for a few moments before Avariella turned away.
She said her farewells to Lyra and Lilly and then quickly moved forward, eager to escape the scrutiny from Lady Barbrey when –
"My lady!" Avariella cried, having almost bumped into Lady Brienne. "My apologies, I was distracted –"
"Not to worry," Lady Brienne replied stiffly.
Avariella caught sight of Lady Catelyn behind the giant woman, found her staring across the yard at Lady Barbrey. A prickle formed at the back of her spine. Had Lady Catelyn seen the interaction? She barely said a word to Avariella for hours.
It was only when Maester Bryal had hurried out of the room to check on his patients in the First Keep that Lady Catelyn spoke.
"I noticed you have grown close to some of the Northern servants," the elder woman commented.
Avariella could not tell if the woman was upset, and it bothered her.
"Yes, my lady," she replied simply. "I have become loosely acquainted with some of them."
Lady Catelyn made a sound of acknowledgement.
"I'm not cross, Lady Avariella," the auburn-haired woman said. "In fact, I approve."
Avariella had to try to hide her surprise – and mild uncomfortableness. She was not trying to gain anyone's approval by befriending Lilly or Jeyna or Lyra.
"My husband taught my sons and daughters the same value: it is important for the people to know, and you to know them. A valuable lesson you seemed to have learnt already."
Avariella opened her mouth and then closed it promptly.
She tried her best to imagine Lady Catelyn with her husband, teaching small red-haired children the value of running a household. The thought seemed strange to her, somehow.
"Thank you," she said. She tried not to make it sound like a question.
Lady Catelyn looked as though she were about to respond but did not, leaving them in silence for quite some time.
Avariella assisted Lady Catelyn in going over the ledgers and responding to some correspondence. It was not urgent matters of course – Gods knew it would have been entirely inappropriate for Lady Catelyn to be discussing matters of high importance with her of all people – these letters contained small complaints or calls for aid.
"How many stone masons did we spare to the Manderlys?" Lady Catelyn asked.
Avariella struggled to recall for a moment.
"Five," she responded finally.
"Yes, that's quite right," Lady Catelyn said absent mindedly.
They were interrupted by the door springing open, revealing a red-faced Maester Bryal. Brienne had reached for her sword at the intrusion, relaxed slightly at the sight of the Maester.
"My lady," he heaved, panting loudly. "Lord Rickon has gone –"
"Gone?" Lady Catelyn questioned sharply. "Where? When?"
"He was under the care of Osha after I left him to ponder some arithmetic equations, my lady, and they both seemed to have vanished –"
The elder woman had already sprung to her feet, with Avariella quick to follow.
"My lady, I'm sure he's nearby," she said, slightly unnerved to see Lady Catelyn looking so panicked. "I will help search for him." Immediately after the words left her lips, she wanted to cringe – as if she was such a massive presence in the boy's life – but Lady Catelyn seemed to calm slightly at her words.
"I will check his chambers and the other available rooms in the castle," she declared. Lady Catelyn's stormy blue eyes turned to the Maester. "You shall search the courtyards and the Godswood, take some soldiers with you if you must."
Lady Catelyn then hesitated a moment. "Lady Frey, if you would be so kind as to check the crypts, he may be there."
"Of course," Avariella said, and then paused. "Where are they?"
Maester Bryal had escorted her to the entrance of the crypts after Lady Catelyn had offered her a brief description, evidently eager to go off searching for her son. It was a small ironwood door that led down to the darkness, almost like a cellar.
Maester Bryal turned to one of the guards and was wordlessly given a torch.
"You will need this," he said, offering her the handle. She took it, warily watched the flames, and was careful to keep it extended away from her hair. Gods knew that was a disaster she did not need.
"I will be fine, Maester," she said.
He offered her a panicked smile and then promptly sped off with the guards, leaving her to face the door. It was surprisingly heavy when she tugged at it, and it was with a small huff that she managed to pull it open. Inside, she could see the faint traces of a long and winding staircase on the ground. The rest was darkness.
Why would children venture here? She thought. This is a place of darkness and death.
She closed her eyes for a moment, took a depth breathe and summoned all the courage she could muster.
Avariella ventured down into the darkness, her grip tightening on the handle of the torch. The flames flickered dangerously near her face, causing her eyes to squint, and she paused a moment to steady herself. Before long, she reached the bottom of the steps and was facing a long, dark corridor. No candles had been lit, so she could not see the statues of the Starks of old.
"Rickon?" she called out, the cold seeping into her bones. "Are you here?"
No one answered.
Taking a step forward, Avariella looked carefully down the crypts, and exhaled with relief when she caught sight of a candle. She moved forth, dipped her torch into its wick, and exhaled sharply when the shadows of a statue came into view. She knew not who was, but even she could admit it was a fine piece of craftmanship. If only it didn't make herself squirm to be done here.
It was cold and the air was heavy, and she could feel the weight of the dead as she moved forth down the crypts, lighting candles all the while, until she could see lines of statues all the way. There were Starks at every turn, and for one foolish moment Avariella wished to scream at them, to ask if they truly thought they were so honorable, so much greater than everyone else.
You're hypocrites, she wished to say.
"Rickon," she called out instead.
She moved through the crypts, lighting candles along the way, until she reached the end of the line. There was the first female statue she'd seen, standing closely to two other male ones.
Lyanna, Brandon, and Eddard Stark.
She moved to the statue of the late lord of Winterfell, took note of his grim face, set in stone, his hands clasping onto a long sword. The Starks had a hereditary sword, one of very few houses in Westeros to continue such a custom.
She didn't know its name.
You started a war when you went down to Kings Landing, she thought. You must have known, must have sense something. You knew were heading into a lion's den.
And yet, she did not feel angry at him, only hollow.
You ruined my life when you went to King's Landing. You ruined so many, because you were too damn honorable to say no.
"I always thought his brother was better looking," a voice said.
Avariella jumped, a gasp escaping her throat as her torch nearly slipped out of her hands.
"By the Gods –" Avariella swore, and then clamped her mouth shut when she saw Lady Barbrey standing there, looking at her intently in the candlelight.
"Lady Barbrey," Avariella said coolly. She hoped her expression remained composed and sure.
"Oh, please put yourself at ease," the elder woman said, waving her hand around casually as she moved towards the statue next to Lyanna Stark. She sighed softly, her eyes lingering on the man's face.
"Did you know him well?" Avariella asked, before she could stop herself. "Brandon Stark?"
Lady Barbrey let out a biting laugh that sounded closer to a scoff.
"Yes," she said, her mouth twisting wryly, and then: "He took my maidenhead."
Avariella's eyebrows rose. As far as Avariella had known, Brandon Stark had been engaged to Catelyn Tully. Gods knew Ned Stark wasn't known to go around whoring and bedding young maidens, especially noble born ones at that, though the existence of his bastard proved even he could stoop to such things.
"Surprised?" Lady Barbrey posed. Her eyes no longer looked grey in the candlelight, looked almost golden. "The honorable Ned Stark never would have done such a thing. No, his brother was the wild wolf, the one who did as he pleased."
There was a trace of bitterness in her tone.
"Oh, come child, you didn't think you were the only one with ill will towards the Starks?"
Avariella had. True, her father was not pleased with the Starks, but he hadn't cared for them either or hated them. Avariella was the only person she knew who harbored genuine hatred for them, a true anger against their hypocrisy and self-righteousness.
Avariella, Avos whispered in her mind. You know the truth.
His words stirred the brewing storm inside her, made her torn heart tremble dangerously.
"My father wished for me to wed Brandon," Lady Barbrey continued. "He dangled me in front of him like I was a piece of meat."
Avariella understood the feeling, to a degree.
"I'm not like you though." Lady Barbrey's eyes flashed to Avariella. "I cared for Brandon; he told me that he had no wish to marry Lady Catelyn, the dutiful Southern lady, whose heart was cold and determined only by duty."
"He didn't leave her," Avariella pointed out. "He stopped at Riverrun on his way to King's Landing."
On his way to his death.
Something cold flashed in Lady Barbrey's eyes.
"Lord Rickard Stark did not believe any Northern girl was good enough for his eldest son. No, he had ambitions to spread the Stark name and its power. Too long had Starks married Northerners and kept themselves hauled away from the rest of Westeros." A small snort echoed through the crypts. "If only he knew his grandsire would marry a foreigner – all the way from Volantis at that! Talk about spreading the Stark name! Though I suppose no one cares for it there."
Avariella thought it wise to say nothing. She knew nothing of this woman, this handsome, bitter woman who looked at her with such scrutiny, as though she were trying to see into the depths of her soul.
"What do you want from me?" Avariella asked pointedly. And then, belatedly she added: "My lady."
Lady Barbrey tilted her head, a curious expression gracing her features.
"I wished to meet you," Lady Barbrey answered honestly – or at least Avariella thought she spoke true. "The most desirable woman in all the North."
What?
"Or, better yet, the most valuable woman in all the North, for the time being anyway."
"That title belongs to the Queen or Lady Catelyn," Avariella said softly, her insides churning.
"Ah, I'm afraid you are mistaken, Lady Frey. Your child is expected to be the future Queen in the North, if the Gods are willing. Any Northern family will jump at that chance."
"Yourself included," Avariella said, before she could stop herself.
Lady Barbrey looked only momentarily surprised at her bluntness. Avariella was tempted to apologize but refrained herself. It wouldn't be genuine, and she had a feeling Lady Barbrey would not appreciate it.
"Yes," Lady Barbrey admitted. "To a degree."
The elder woman moved away from Lord Brandon's statue, turned towards the one of Lord Eddard and moved close to Avariella, so close she was tempted to step away.
"I was married to my husband, my Willem, for only six moons before he was summoned to go to war. He was a good man, a gentle husband, and I did not wish for him to go. I gave him one of my father's horses, the finest stead from the Ryswell stables. He swore that he would return to me mounted on it, that he would meet his son."
Grief flickered in her eyes and Avariella was now even more aware of her Widow's knot. Robert's Rebellion had been nigh on nineteen years ago now.
"He died when Lord Stark went to seek out his sister, and dear Ned Stark managed to bring back his sister's bones. All he brought back of my husband was his horse and left his bones to rot in some unmarked grave in Dorne. Willem didn't have to go with Lord Stark to fetch his sister – the war had been over by that point, the Targaryen's defeated. He did it because Ned Stark was his liege Lord, and that Lord repaid that loyalty with disrespect."
Avariella felt something inside of her shift. It was comforting to know that someone shared her pain – the familiarity of Lady Barbrey's bitterness was as familiar as that of a warm blanket. Yes, she wanted to say, someone who understands.
He died wrestling another man over a whore.
"I understand," Avariella said, the words soft on her tongue. She almost felt like the words were trying to latch onto her anger, to keep it burning. It doesn't matter, a part of her thought furiously. That was circumstance, nothing more. Robb Stark spat on my family, for what? A prettier bride? How Avos died makes no difference.
Doesn't it?
"I heard about your first meeting with the King," Lady Barbrey said.
Avariella almost groaned – she meant what she had said, aye, but she did regret voicing her anger so publicly. But what had she expected? A lot of the Northern Lords had been there. . .
"Put yourself at ease, my lady, I did not hear it from a Northern Lord."
"Then who?"
Lady Barbrey smiled slightly.
"I have my sources. You will come to learn that having such things is very valuable."
"Like the Spider?"
"Hmph. I wouldn't dream of trying to rival Lord Varys, but information is valuable."
I have no information, Avariella almost said. I have no power.
Not that she'd had that in abundance at the Twins, but during the war she had been well informed about the business of the castle, the imports from the farmers, even if she had known nothing of the war, of their movements.
Now she had nothing.
"If you hate Lord Stark," she started. "Why do you want your grandchild to wed into his family?"
The candlelight flickered a moment after the words left her lips.
"Hate," Lady Barbrey scoffed. "Hate is inconsequential when it comes to these things."
"Is it?"
"Yes," the elder woman replied readily. "For the advancement of my house? The good of my son? My feelings on the Stark family matter little. I'd rather my house be advanced than any other."
Avariella felt her heart sink a little.
"My girl," the Lady said, as though she sensed her disappointment. "I came to Winterfell to see if you were the kind of woman I'd like my son to marry."
"And I've satisfied your requirements," Avariella stated emotionlessly.
"I don't know. I barely know you. I arrived at Winterfell to find you following Lady Catelyn like a lost duckling, despite what I'd heard about you beforehand."
Avariella scowled before she could help herself.
"Helping the people rebuild their home and sort through the chaos is not a bad thing, my lady," she snapped. "I am capable of controlling my anger and directing it solely at the people who deserve it."
"And the people of Winterfell do not."
"Of course they don't," Avariella said.
Lady Barbrey did not seem disappointed by her answer; in fact, she smiled.
"Good," she said mysteriously. She paused a moment, as distant sounds from above echoed through the crypt.
"Come, Lady Frey," she said, turning her back to the statue. "Your search for the youngest Stark must continue."
Avariella was glad to leave the crypts. She did not bother to extinguish the candles, did not want to be encased in the increasing darkness. She handed the torch over to one of the soldiers and looked at Lady Barbrey, feeling rather dazed. The woman nodded at her, her grey eyes flickering, and turned on her heel.
"Lady Avariella," Lady Catelyn called out.
Avariella almost swore loudly and turned to face her. Rickon was standing next to his mother, looking rather sheepish as he held onto his mother's hand. Osha stood a little behind them, her gaze fixed on the ground.
Avariella moved towards them, her heart beating rapidly.
"I see he has been found," she said.
"Indeed," Lady Catelyn said, her eyes narrowing in displeasure at the sight of her youngest son. "He'd gone frolicking in the Godswood without a word to anyone."
Rickon's cheeks flushed with Shaggydog close behind him. She highly doubted Rickon would have been harmed by anyone with the beast nearby, but Avariella understood Lady Catelyn's alarm.
"I'm sorry," he said, his voice low.
Avariella felt as though she were seeing her problem as he had been at six.
"I am sorry to have concerned yourself with such a matter," Lady Catelyn said. "I will go attend to my son. Feel free to take the rest of the day off, Lady Frey, with exception to your duties with the Queen."
"Of course," she replied. "Thank you, my lady."
She watched as the mother and son left, and from behind she could almost forget who they were, could cast her mother and Avos in their stead. Marie, her name had been. Marie.
Judging by the way the sky had darkened, Avariella decided it was near the time the Queen was expected to leave the First Keep. It was a short walk from where the crypts were and so Avariella's mind was still dazed from her encounter with Lady Barbrey when she opened the door and made her way up the stairs.
When she reached the top, her gaze fluttered about the room and then –
Lilly? Avariella thought incredulously. What in the Sevens' name are you doing here?
Anger began to churn her stomach. This is no place for children to work, I don't care how few medics there are, I'll be one –
But then she noticed Lyra sitting on the edge of one of the cots, with the Queen and Maester Bryal standing nearby. The Maester's face still seemed flushed, but for an entirely different reason other than panic, Avariella assumed. Max was laying on the ground next to Lilly, his eyes closed.
Her eyes turned to the man sitting upright in the bed, who was no doubt Lilly's father.
The man had a bandage covering his left cheek, and his right one remained slightly swollen. He looked tired and worn, but his eyes were bright as he stared at his wife and daughter.
"Flower," he said to Lilly. "Be careful to be quiet."
Avariella saw Lilly falter a moment, before she sent her father a wide smile and nodded.
"Good girl."
Avariella's surprise rose when she noticed the Queen standing on the other side of the man's cot, with the Maester beside her. Maester Bryal seemed a bit peeved, his brow narrowed with disapproval as the Queen stood unflinchingly beside him.
"Lady Ava!" Lilly cried, after catching sight of her near the doorway.
Avariella nearly shrunk back, had to fight the urge to run out the door, down the stairs and disappear outside. There were a few tutters at the shrillness of Lilly's voice, some murmurs as injured men stirred out of their sleep.
"Lilly," Lyra said sternly, still holding on to her husband's hand.
Avariella crossed the distance to stand beside Lilly and managed to offer her a tight smile. Her gaze fluttered back to the man in the bed, and it struck her how she had probably seen this man multiple times and never made the connection. They were all the same to her; dying, injured men. He must have badly injured, Avariella thought. To have stayed here for so long. They'd been at Winterfell for a little over a moon now, and though the First Keep was still quite busy, even Avariella had noticed some of the beds emptying, due to death or the soldier's having grown healthy once more.
It was then that Avariella saw his right leg and she saw the massive cloth wrapped around his foot, even covering his shin, and saw glimpses of blood and puss, and tints of purple near the outer edge of his bandage.
"Hello," she said, after she had managed to lift her gaze back up to his eyes.
"Milady," he returned. "I've heard much about you from Lilly. I hope my daughter has not been too much trouble."
His words were slightly slurred, no doubt from the milk of the poppy they had been feeding him, but Avariella could still detect the commoner's accent beneath his voice.
"None at all," she replied smoothly. "She's been taking care of my dog today."
She titled her head in acknowledgement at Lyra, who returned it, making no move to stop sitting at her husband's side.
Introductions now aside, Lilly's father turned his attention back to the duo standing by his bed.
"Would it work?" he asked.
Avariella saw Lyra's face tighten from the corner of her eye, noticed that Maester Bryal's face seemed to do the same.
"It would be incredibly risky," the Maester cut in, though from his tone it sounded as though he had argued the point before. "In fact, I would argue too risky."
"And I wouldn't," the Queen countered. "If we simply let the wound fester –"
"Your grace, forgive me, but we cut open his leg and worked on the infection only a week ago, there needs to be time for his body to heal before we let it go through such stress again."
"Pardon me, for I am a simple man, but I only have one question," the man cut in.
"Ashter," Lyra said quietly.
"Will this give me a better chance of saving my foot?" he asked bluntly.
Avariella saw Lilly stare at the ground nervously, looking rather frightened at the serious expressions of her parents. She cupped the girl's shoulder in one hand, and this time when she smiled at her it was genuine.
"Yes," the Queen replied. "I believe so."
Maester Bryal remained quiet, his lips twitching.
Ashter seemed to contemplate this a moment, before he nodded.
The Queen seemed rather satisfied by his response and they spoke for a few moments before she left, with Maester Bryal at her heels, whispering furiously.
"Ashter," Lyra began again. Avariella heard the pleading tone in her voice. "Is this safe –"
"Yes," he interrupted. "It is, my love. I will be alright." A moment. "I need my foot, Lyra. We all do. Winter is hard enough as it is–"
He cut off, noticed Lilly huddling beside Avariella.
"Come here, flower," he said, beckoning his daughter towards him.
Avariella left go of Lilly and moved away to give the family their privacy.
She moved to the end of the room, and while she could still see them, she no longer heard what they were saying. The words of comfort; of distress. Her eyes lingered on the small family, the way Ashter was now hugging his wife and daughter close, pressing a kiss onto the latter's forehead.
Their closeness was like a knife in her heart. I miss that, she thought. How things used to be before any of this.
But her own pain faded, gave way instead to a sharp anxiety that made her stomach twist in knots. Her gaze flickered across the room, and she exhaled when she made eye contact with the Queen. I hope you know what you're doing.
Two evenings later, Avariella was trying to respond to the letters she had recently received from Roslin and Shirei. Whenever she had previously tried, the words had not been able to come. She wondered what Olyvar had written them, if he had told Roslin they had quarreled, told her the truth.
I'm tired of this, Avariella thought.
"My lady?" a voice called out from outside the tent.
"Yes?" she replied, setting down her quill.
"The Lady Barbrey is here."
What in the seven hells?
"Come in," she called out.
Max stirred slightly from his spot beside her as Lady Barbrey entered the tent. The elder woman surveyed the small space, her eyes fluttering across the unopened chests, the books and pieces of parchment that were strewn out on her small desk that she was sitting behind.
"You must miss the comfort of home," is all Lady Barbrey said.
"Indeed."
It took Avariella a moment to realise that Lady Barbrey was carrying two mugs in her hands.
"Ah," she said, when she caught Avariella's eyes fill with brief confusion. "I expect you haven't tried a good Northern ale before, have you?"
Avariella eyed the woman suspiciously for a moment.
What will she do? Strike you down? Poison you?
"I can't say that I have," she admitted.
She watched as Lady Barbrey moved to the desk and placed the two mugs down. They were filled with dark liquid that smelt distinctly of ale, and Avariella felt queasy a moment. She had not drunk wine or ale since her arrival at Winterfell.
"It's not poisoned," Lady Barbrey said, sounding slightly amused.
Avariella reached for the mug closest to her, watched as Lady Barbrey did the same.
"To happy beginnings," the elder woman said, her eyes glinting.
Avariella raised her cup and drank. The taste was strong and more bitter than she was used to, but not entirely unpleasant. She coughed slightly when she placed her drink down.
"Bitter, aye?"
"Yes," she replied, wiping at her mouth. "Quite."
"Most Northern things are," Lady Barbrey said. "Not that I'm an expert on the South. But I suggest you do get used to it."
The reminder made Avariella grit her teeth.
"Do you mind?" Lady Barbrey asked, tilting her head towards the bed.
It took Avariella a moment to realize the lady was asking if it was alright if she sat on it.
"Of course," she replied.
She observed as Lady Barbrey sank down onto the furs on her bed, her posture still perfectly straight. The tent was so small and everything so close together that the end of the cot almost reached the side of her desk, so they were still relatively close.
"Your sisters?"
Avariella glanced down at the pieces of parchment in front of her, blank with all the words she had yet to say.
"Yes," she replied. "I was about to write to my elder sister Roslin, and my youngest sister Shirei."
"My apologies for interrupting, my lady."
"No," Avariella said softly. Not like I was successful anyway. "No need to apologise, my lady."
"One of your brothers accompanied you to Winterfell, did he not?"
Avariella felt herself stiffen.
"Yes," she heard herself say, her voice sounded distinctly cool. "My elder brother Olyvar."
"And he is how old?"
"Two and twenty."
"And your sister Roslin?"
"She is a few months from ten and eight, my lady."
Avariella watched Lady Barbrey take another sip from her cup.
"There are quite many of you Freys," she commented lightly. "I myself come from a rather large family, but nothing quite like that."
"My father likes to exceed boundaries, my lady."
"Yes, I'm quite sure he does."
A pause.
"You had another brother, did you not?" Lady Barbrey questioned. Her tone was more tentative this time, as though she knew she were walking on fragile ground.
Avariella looked down at her drink.
"I'm sure your sources would have been able to answer that for you," she told her.
"Fair enough."
Avariella took another sip from her drink, felt the warmth coil in her stomach and heat her blood.
"You're not what I expected," Lady Barbrey said.
Avariella lifted her gaze to stare at the elder woman.
"What were you expecting?" she asked. "A leper?"
"Not quite," Lady Barbrey said, a small sound of amusement escaping her lips. "But I admit, I was expecting a frightfully pale girl with a beak for a nose, as ugly a person as her father."
Avariella waited for her to finish.
"You are quite pretty," Lady Barbrey told her. She looked at Avariella as though she were appraising her.
Avariella felt oddly self conscious – all too aware of her freckles, the thinness of her lips, the paleness that could only have gotten worse during her time in the North.
Lady Barbrey let out a chuckle.
"I wonder how the King in the North felt when he saw you," the elder woman said. "He did not wish to marry you or your sisters because he thought you wouldn't be pretty enough, only to find you to be rather beautiful."
Avariella remained quiet.
"I rather imagine few people know what to do with you," Lady Barbrey continued. "The would-be Queen in the North."
Avariella resisted the urge to point out that Robb Stark could have very well chosen any one of her sisters, especially Roslin. He had never been engaged to her specifically.
"Yes, better to marry you off as soon as possible, after Winterfell is constructed."
"I can hardly wait," Avariella said dryly.
"Hmph! I admire your honesty, my girl. But not to worry. The war has diminished a lot of the eligible bachelors in the North. A lot of the remaining Lords are already married, a lot of them are too young for you."
The grey eyed woman tilted her head slightly.
"I imagine this all must be a downgrade for you; after all, you were once promised – or promised the opportunity, anyway, - of wedding the King in the North. The honorable, handsome, Robb Stark. It must have been your dream come true."
Someone brave, and gentle and strong, you wanted once, Avos whispered. I wanted to find him for you sister.
I thought you already had.
Avariella almost gasped but managed to stop herself in time by biting down tightly on her lip so hard she almost broke the skin.
"That was long ago,' she responded. "And I know better now."
"Indeed, you do," Lady Barbrey returned. "I heard the little Stark has a fondness for you."
"He's a child," Avariella said, sounding a tad defensive. A pause. "He looks like my brother."
She took another gulp of ale.
"The one who died. My twin."
She heard the cot creak as Lady Barbrey leaned forward, her eyes looking surprisingly gentle.
"I am sorry," she told Avariella. "I understand what it's like."
For split second, Avariella wanted to tell her the truth – all of it. The way Olyvar had lied, had betrayed her; how Avos had turned into someone she didn't even recognize, had turned into their father.
But she didn't.
"I'm so angry," she whispered, closing her eyes tightly. "I'm so angry I can hardly breathe."
There was a moment before Lady Barbrey responded.
"Vengeance is a lazy form of grief for women like us," Lady Barbrey uttered.
Avariella felt something inside of her bristle.
"You tell me that you are disappointed in me letting Lady Stark advise me, and then you say it is wrong to want vengeance," she said. "Tell me, Lady Barbrey, which is it?"
The older woman looked mildly amused.
Avariella hated it.
"The Starks wanted vengeance for when the Lannisters chopped off Ned Starks' head. The Martells wanted vengeance for when their Queen had been raped and slaughtered by a man whose hands were still stained with the blood of her children."
"Yes, I know," Avariella said, rather smartly.
She couldn't help herself; this woman was meant to be giving her answers. She was meant to share her frustration, not reprimand her for it. Lady Barbrey was meant to give her clarity. Guidance.
"What I mean to say is that they had the power to enact vengeance, to gain it," Lady Barbrey continued. "The leaders were men; men with armies. We don't have armies. Aye, I was the head of my house until my son came of age, but my influence was not as strong as my husband's, and whatever respect I have I had to fight tooth and nail for. I did not have the power or the means to curse Ned Stark for failing to bring back my husband's body, so I didn't. I saved myself the trouble, returned to my home, and raised my son, gaining power where I could."
"And where do you suggest I gain power?" Avariella questioned. The edge in her voice had disappeared.
The corners of Lady Barbrey's lips twisted up slightly.
"Why, by the very family you loathe."
Avariella startled at that.
"Excuse me?"
"Think about it," Lady Barbrey continued. "Lady Catelyn is already trying to win you over –"
"Yes, for the sake of her future grandchild, not for love of me!" Avariella cried.
"There are other ways for you to grow close to the Starks. We know one is already fond of you."
"Rickon is a child," she snapped, her heart twisting guiltily.
"You did not grow close to Lady Sansa?"
"No, we barely spoke," Avariella admitted.
Lady Barbrey sighed but did not otherwise appear to disappointed.
"Women have more weapons than just their tears and words, you know."
Avariella let out a small breath of outrage.
"I will not whore myself," she snapped furiously. "Not for any man – not for any King. Especially –" She cut off; her cheeks tinted red.
"That was a rather poor suggestion of mine," Lady Barbrey admitted, looking rather rueful. "But the sentiment is true all the same, though I doubt Robb Stark would ever betray his wife, especially with the woman he almost married."
"We were not betrothed," Avariella said, before she could stop herself.
Lady Barbrey raised an eyebrow.
"By the sounds of it, it appears as though it would have been either you or Roslin Tully he wed. A fifty-fifty chance."
Avariella blanched at the thought, at that distant, impossible life. The thought of being Robb Stark's wife made her want to be sick.
"I won't talk to him," she said, shaking her head. "I won't do it. I can't."
I'm not strong enough to be around him and not want to burn the world down or spend the rest of my life in tears, and I hate myself for it.
Something in Lady Dustin's eyes softened as she stared at Avariella.
"That won't be necessary," she replied gently. She cleared her throat abruptly, and all of a sudden, the kindness of her face vanished, replaced by a smooth determination.
"No, you can't enact vengeance on the Starks, at least not the traditional kind."
The traditional kind? Avariella thought incredulously, and then she paused. She thought of the Lannisters now, the only surviving member being a half man despised by the realm, with only his bastard niece and nephew hidden away at Casterly Rock for the rest of their days. They rest had all died or been executed. Same with most of the Baratheons. She imagined the Starks dying, thought of beheadings and blood and lifeless eyes, and she cringed.
"Fair enough," she said, and a part of her realized that even if she could have had Robb Stark killed, she wasn't sure she'd be able to do it, even in the darkest moments of her grief.
"You must survive," Lady Barbrey told her. "You must find the best way to survive, to take care of yourself. You need protection, and I cannot give that to you. Your brother cannot, neither can your sister, Lady of Riverrun though she may be."
A pause.
"I doubt Walder Frey would protect you from the worst of men either, regardless if it didn't go against his interest."
Avariella thought of Ser Trent and shook her head.
"No," she agreed, very quietly. "My father would not."
She was alone and not just emotionally. It struck Avariella in that moment how much she had let fly over her head. She'd just assumed everyone would set aside her impending betrothal and the politics and gold as they constructed Winterfell. She hadn't thought of any plan, of what she would do when the time to meet her suitors came. She'd been too caught up in her grief, anger and confusion, while the rest of the world had continued on without her.
I can't do that again, she thought to herself. I may be here, I may have no choice in that, but I can try and do something for my future, can't I?
"What do you suggest I do?" she asked.
Lady Barbrey made a small sound of approval.
"You need to gain their favor," she told Avariella. "Grow close to them."
"To who?" Avariella shot back. "Lady Catelyn is too smart for manipulation – she may be willing to teach me, but she would never go against her son."
"I agree," Lady Barbrey cut in.
"Rickon has no such influence that would help me; he is too young."
"Indeed."
"The King. . ." Avariella did not even finish that sentence. "Lady Arya is still at the wall, travelling in the North. Lady Sansa is off to the Reach – "
"Good," Lady Barbrey said. "I've heard the youngest Stark girl is a wild little thing, thanks to her time with the Hound and the men she was forced to travel with as they made their way to the Nights Watch. She was probably a wild girl before that."
"Lady Sansa?"
"Gone, now. Besides, that girl has faced too much."
She did not elaborate, and Avariella did not need her to.
"Then who?" she asked finally, sighing loudly. "Who is left? The Blackfish? Shall I begin to correspond with Lord Edmure, my sister's husband?"
"Think, my dear," Lady Barbrey told her. "Think of the weakest link."
It took but a mere second for her to figure it out.
"The Queen?" she asked, gaping a little.
"Indeed," Lady Barbrey confirmed, nodding. "Due to the fact that Robb Stark forsook his vow to marry her, I daresay he has love for her."
"I know that," Avariella interrupted. "But I am rather at a loss as to how that will lead for her to have love for me."
"She's an isolated woman," Lady Barbrey commented casually, as they were talking about the weather and not the manipulation of the Queen. "Much hated and mistrusted. People blame her for the death of the heir."
"I highly doubt that was her fault," Avariella said, despite her own distaste for the woman.
Lady Barbrey looked at her meaningfully, which caused her to flush.
"Maybe," the elder woman acknowledged. "But that does not change the fact that she is desperate for companionship. Even her own mother in law seems to shun her – disapprove of her marriage to her eldest son, that is for sure. She does not even seem to have a bond with the youngest wolf."
Avariella listened to her words, and though she hated to admit it there was truth to them. The Queen was the weakest link amongst them all, the best chance she had at getting close to power, to some chance of ensuring a proper future for herself.
"Even if I did," she began slowly, eyeing Lady Barbrey warily. "Even if I could, that does not mean anything. The final say is with the King, and who knows if he will listen to his wife."
"That's fair," Lady Barbrey replied. "But it's the best chance you've got."
Avariella sighed but knew better than to protest. She felt strangely hollow now – not empty or sad but resigned. She had a purpose now, at the very least, in addition to her attempts to help the people of Winterfell. This was something different.
"And how do I do it?"
There was a moment before she elaborated.
"How do I do this? Manipulation? Lying? Getting close to her? How do I do it? When do I do it?"
Lady Barbrey looked at her, a glint of amusement evident in her pale green eyes.
"I daresay an opportunity will soon arise," she informed Avariella, as though she were able to see the future and witness such a moment.
"Fantastic," she said dryly. "That helps a great deal."
To her surprise, Lady Barbrey laughed. It was a deep sound, appeared like it had been yanked out from somewhere deep in her chest. Avariella felt strangely satisfied, and it occurred to her that that was perhaps the first time she'd made someone other than a member of her family laugh in over a year. Now that she thought on it, she hadn't even made them laugh recently.
"You'll be alright," Lady Barbrey said, after her laughter had subsided. "I have faith in you."
That, for the moment, was enough.
"I am leaving Winterfell shortly," Lady Barbrey told her.
For some reason, Avariella was not surprised by the news.
"To Barrowhall?" she asked.
"Yes. My son awaits me there."
Avariella was tempted to ask what Lady Barbrey would say to her son about her. She paused as she realized.
"I do not know your son's name," she blurted out.
"Daemon," Lady Barbrey said carefully. "His name is Daemon."
Daemon, the name spread through her mind. Daemon.
They remained in silence as the candle wick burned.
It was the next day that Avariella found herself yet again with Lady Catelyn, pouring over records regarding their barrels of wheat.
"We are expecting a shipment from the Reach quite soon," Lady Catelyn told her.
Avariella had to try to hide her confusion. She knew of no trade agreements with the Reach. She must not have done a good job of hiding her confusion, because soon enough Lady Catelyn was informing her that the Dragon Queen (though Lady Catelyn did not call her that) had pledged them support in terms of grain and food supply for a few short months, no doubt a gift for their aid in winning back the throne of her ancestors.
"I see," is all she said, once Lady Catelyn had finished.
The elder woman sighed slightly, and it occurred to Avariella that Lady Catelyn looked slightly uncomfortable.
"I see you have grown close with Lady Barbrey," Lady Catelyn commented lightly.
At least she doesn't beat around the bush.
"I have talked with her a few times, my lady," she replied evenly.
Avariella was truthfully not quite comfortable with calling their relationship close. It didn't seem quite accurate.
"Lady Avariella, Lady Barbrey is quite the accomplished woman, and who you befriend from the northern nobility is little of my concern," the Stark woman continued.
Avariella was too much at a loss to truly be able to understand what was unfolding in front of her.
"But I do find it within my responsibility to warn you that some people will try and take advantage of your position," Lady Catelyn said delicately, almost as though she thought Avariella were about to burst into tears.
For a moment, Avariella was offended. Does she truly think I am that naïve? She thought, mildly annoyed by the assumption. Lady Barbrey had been honest about her intentions, her ambitions.
Perhaps not naïve, another part of her whispered. Perhaps she just thought you were lonely.
"Your child is expected to marry into the Stark family," Lady Catelyn continued, oblivious to Avariella's growing embarrassment. "And many families see that as their opportunity to fulfill their ambitions."
And do you think marrying Daemon Dustin would be that horrible? She wanted to ask. Lady Barbrey's son would be infinitely better than any of Roose Bolton's offspring.
Avariella was saved from replying by the sound of the door opening.
"Your grace," Lady Catelyn said, sounding rather startled.
The Blackfish was close on the King's heels.
"Uncle."
Avariella made to rise, but the King waved her down.
"Please sit, my lady."
Avariella's eyes darted to the letter in the King's hands. The seal was broken, having clearly been read.
"It is from Uncle Edmure," the King told his mother. "Here, read what he has to say."
His eyes darted over to Avariella and flickered between her eyes and the ledgers laid on the table in front of her. Avariella resisted the urge to squirm.
Roslin, she thought suddenly. She was suddenly overcome with worry – was Roslin alright? Had she lost the babe and Edmure had written to the King to complain about his infertile wife? What had –
"Roslin is with child," Lady Catelyn said, a small smile gracing her lips. "Edmure is to be a father."
She glanced at Avariella, and through her intense relief she realized she was expected to look surprised.
"Yes, it seems my nephew has done something right at last," the Blackfish drawled.
Avariella had to bite down on her lip to keep from smirking.
"Uncle," Lady Catelyn admonished.
As if on cue, the elder man's eyes drifted over to her.
"Not to worry my lady," he said. "My nephew has questionable judgement at times, but he is a good man."
How reassuring, Avariella wished to say.
Instead, all she replied was this:
"I am sure of it, Ser. My sister seems to be very happy."
The King looked at her intently, and it occurred to her that he had already realized she knew.
She wondered for a moment if he would confront her about it, but he remained silent.
"I must write to him at once," Catelyn Stark said.
She turned to Avariella, looking calmer than she had ever seen her.
"You may write to your sister as well, if you wish."
Avariella almost told her she'd been trying to do just that for nigh on two weeks with little success but thought better of it.
"I will," she said solemnly, rising from her chair. "Thank you, my lady."
She turned to the King and the Blackfish and curtsied.
"Your grace."
She made for the doorway.
"Lady Avariella," Lady Catelyn called out. "Congratulations."
For what?
"You are to be an aunt, same as I," she continued.
Oh dear Gods. It hadn't even occurred to Avariella that her and Lady Catelyn would share a niece of nephew, that they would be connected in such a way; the Frey and Stark alliance cemented in flesh and blood.
"Congratulations to you as well," she managed to force out and then went on her way, before she could do something stupid like hurl or blanch.
She didn't say goodbye to Lady Barbrey in front of everyone. Avariella may not be the most astute person in the world, but even she knew better than to have a full-fledged intimate conversation with the woman in front of the Starks, especially after Lady Catelyn's small intervention.
She had debated telling Lady Barbrey of the incident but decided not to. She kept quiet on Roslin's condition as well.
Instead, after she had managed to find Lady Barbrey on the outskirts of the camp, with Max by her side, she listened intently to the woman's advice.
"Remember what I told you," Lady Barbrey said, a small breeze ruffling the top of her widow's knot.
"I will," Avariella replied.
The woman moved forth to grab hold of Avariella's chin.
"Yes," she murmured, and continued to mutter under her breath.
Her hands were surprisingly soft.
"The opportunity will come for you," she continued. "And you must be ready when it does."
"I will be," Avariella said, trying to sound confident. I have to be.
The next morn, when Lady Barbrey left, all she offered Avariella was a cool look, before she hopped onto her horse, leaving Avariella alone again once more. I'll write to you, she had told Avariella. She hope she meant it.
Avariella spent a few hours feeling rather dazed after Lady Barbrey had left. It almost felt to her like it had all been a dream, like she had hallucinated everything. Lady Dustin hardly seemed real to her now.
Lady Catelyn had dismissed her already, so she was free to walk about the grounds for a short while before she had to make her way to the First Keep. She was slow as went about it, the familiar structure coming into view.
She halted when she saw Lyra and Lilly sitting on a few stones near the Keep.
She recalled the episode she had seen a few days ago, recognized the nervousness on their features. Lyra had one of her arms draped over Lilly's shoulder.
Avariella felt herself move towards them and did not stop until she was a foot away.
"Hello," she said. Even Max was subdued at the sight of Lilly - a worrying feat, considering how taken he was with the girl. It was a testament to how scared the girl was that she made no move to greet Max.
"My lady," Lyra said, sounding rather groggy, as though she were incapable of processing the world around her. She made a jerky movement as if to stand.
"No," Avariella said, wincing at the loudness of her voice. "Please. Stay seated."
She remembered the look in Lyra's eyes when she had stared at her husband, how tightly she had held onto his hand. Her gaze moved to Lilly. Flower, he had called her.
A lump formed in Avariella's throat.
"May I sit with you?" she asked.
Lyra nodded.
Avariella sat down beside Lilly. She felt her heart break a little at how fragile the girl looked, how her bottom lip seemed to be trembling. I want to help you, she thought, feeling rather helpless. I don't know how.
Max had curled himself into a ball nearby, was snoozing quietly.
Great help you are, she thought.
She managed to muffle her sigh as she thought.
"Do you know how to braid hair?" Avariella asked Lilly.
The young girl looked at her with confusion. Lyra barely stirred.
"No," she said, her voice sounding rather small. "Mama said she would teach me. . ."
"I can teach you," Avariella said. "I taught both my younger and older sister."
Lilly seemed to look slightly less scared now.
"I'll practice on myself first," she said, grabbing a large section of her hair. "And then I'll try you. You see, for a simple braid, you start by splitting the hair off into three sections. . ."
Avariella did not know how long she sat there on cold slabs of stone teaching Lilly to braid and she had lost count of the amount of times Lilly had practiced not only on her own hair, but on Avariella's as well. The girl's hands were rather dirty, but Avariella did not voice any complaints.
It was after Lilly had finished a rather satisfactory braid that Avariella heard the door to the first keep swing open. She jumped at the sound, felt her heart beat furiously when she caught sight of the Queen. Lyra leapt to her feet first, with Avariella quickly helping Lilly do the same.
Please Gods, she thought. For Lilly, please.
But Avariella knew. Gods, somehow she did. She saw it in the way the Queen bit down on her lip when she caught sight of Lyra and Lilly waiting outside; waiting to hear the news of their loved one. She saw it in the way the Queen's hands clenched at her sides.
Her clothes were stained with blood, as were her hands, and for a fleeting moment Avariella was furious with her for not bothering to clean up at all, to spare the girl and the wife from seeing the blood of their loved one.
She glanced over, saw Lyra almost swaying on her feet. Avariella placed a hand on Lilly's shoulder as she moved so she was standing close enough to her mother to try and catch her if she fell.
"Your grace," Lyra said frantically, curtsying on trembling knees. "My husband – how is he, is he alright –"
The Queen opened her mouth and then closed it.
Speak, Avariella's mind hissed. Speak for Gods sake! Take them out of their misery!
"I'm sorry," the Queen told them, her voice catching. "We did all that we could –"
Lyra turned as if to run and stumbled slightly, loud gasps leaving her lips as she sunk to the floor.
"Mama!" Lilly cried.
Avariella tightened her grip on her shoulder.
"Where is Papa?" she asked, full of panic.
"I'm sorry," the Queen whispered again. "I thought –"
"I don't understand," Lilly said, turning her wide eyes to gaze up at Avariella. "What has happened?"
"Lilly," Avariella said gently, removing her hold on Lilly's shoulder so she could reach for her hand. Her chest tightened so much she could barely breathe. I'm so sorry, she thought. For the pain I am about to cause you. "Your father is gone."
"No!" Lilly cried, lunging towards the door of the First Keep. Avariella reached for the girl before she made it farther than a few steps and held onto her arms so tightly she feared she would rip it out of her sockets.
"Lilly no," Avariella murmured, her heart aching for the girl. Lyra was still groaning, a horrible abnormal sound that sounded like a wounded animal. Avariella felt a surge of anger towards her, wished she would come to her senses in order to help her daughter through this.
"Enough," she said more forcefully, when Lilly continued to struggle. The girl relaxed a little in her arms and turned to stare at the Queen. Avariella could not see Lilly's expression, but she saw how the Queen faltered when she met Lilly's gaze. Avariella could almost sense the hatred reflected in her dark orbs and opened her mouth to speak —
"This is your fault!" Lilly screamed.
The Queen stood there shakily, blood still staining her clothes, her hands. Her hair even seemed stained with it. In that moment she was not a Queen; she did not look like one or seem like one. She held not the aloofness of Lady Catelyn or even Lady Sansa; she was merely a nurse, a healer who had tried to save the life of a loved one and failed. She looked so lonely standing there, with no one around her; no guards, no men, not even her fellow healers. All she had was herself and the words of hatred that Lilly spat out at her, too young to understand whom exactly she was saying this to - or young enough to forget, despite appearances.
Avariella, despite herself, felt bad for her.
"Lilly," she snapped, forcibly turning the girl around to stare her directly in the eyes. "Enough!"
The girl hiccupped loudly, tears streaming down her face.
"Enough," Avariella repeated gently. "He's gone."
She saw a flash of movement to the side, was relieved to find Lyra had regained her senses, was now staring at the both of them with red eyes.
Avariella wiped at the tears on Lilly's face and moved away when the mother approached, momentarily casting her eyes to the ground when they embraced. She turned her back towards them, noticed with a flicker of anger that majority of the people in the courtyard were staring at the lot of them, a variety of emotions plastered on their faces.
"Are you all entertained?" Avariella questioned loudly, making everyone turn to stare at her. "You've all seen enough for today. Get back to work."
Some of them flushed with shame, others merely looked at her and it occurred to Avariella for a moment that she truly had no right to be issuing such demands shamelessly, but she was too angry to truly care.
"Now," she demanded, and felt a sliver of satisfaction when they finally obeyed.
Avariella felt her heart still when she noticed that the Queen had disappeared.
A/N: Wow! Sorry this took so long to get to you guys. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. It is probably the longest of them all, so I hope the length makes up for the time it took getting to you guys. So there were a lot of developments this chapter – let me know what you guys think! I finally managed to fit more Robb in there, and Lady Barbrey was such a fun character to right. I hope you guys enjoy Avariella's development.
Reviews are really appreciated! They let me know what's working and what's not!
Thank you for everything guys, and I hope everyone is staying safe.
Until next time,
Fionakevin073