A/N Hi guys! Sorry this chapter took so long to get done, I had a really hard time making sure everything flowed cohesively. I hope you guys enjoy this. I would say there's around 2-3 chapters left of this 'leg' of the story, so things should pick up plotwise after that - I hope things aren't moving too slowly! Let me know what you guys think. Thanks so much for all of your support, it means so much. Stay safe guys! The next chapter should be up faster than this!
Until next time,
Fionakevin073
Chapter 13
Avariella and Lady Catelyn stood in the courtyard, observing the progress around them. It was a cold day, the skies perpetually grey, as always.
"I would say another two moons or so, Lady Frey," Lady Catelyn commented. "After the construction of the Great Keep is completed, of course."
They walked around some of the holes dug in the ground, some of which had been recently patched over. Avariella saw a bustle of workers move around, was careful not to step in their way. The longer she stared at the Great Keep, the more she noticed how little progress had actually been made. Sure, there had been some progress made on the outer edges of the buildings, especially the great hall. Avariella noticed that there was only a small trickle of workers coming from inside of the ruins of the great Keep.
Though she could still hear noise coming from inside of the walls. Interesting, she thought, rubbing her chin. Avariella had not been involved at all in the reconstruction of these buildings. The King had taken charge of that the instant they'd arrived in Winterfell.
"Only?" she asked, before she could stop herself. She flushed a little, opened her mouth to apologize, and then stopped, startled, at the sound of Lady Catelyn's laugh. It was a croaky sound, a little thin.
"Yes," Lady Catelyn said, smiling a little. "That might be a little optimistic of me. But I suppose we are all eager to settle back into the castle, into some proper chambers."
Avariella was keen to have her own privacy again as well. Though she didn't know how long her stay in Winterfell would last, overall. She glanced at the auburn-haired woman. It was slightly peculiar to see the older woman smile – she had only seen it directed at her children, never in any basic social interaction. It faded quickly, but it was almost as if it had been plastered onto her skin.
"Fair enough, my lady," Avariella replied.
"You know, the hot springs used to heat up the stone in Winterfell," Lady Catelyn commented.
Avariella had in fact already known that.
"I'm sure you learnt about it in that book you were reading on the way to Winterfell," the other woman commented. "But experiencing it is another. I remember when I first arrived from Riverrun and felt the warm stone in my room." A small chuckle escaped her lips. "I wanted to curl up on the floor."
The older woman seemed lost in her memories; her eyes glazed over. Avariella waited until the look faded.
"I'm sure it will feel the same now," Lady Catelyn said casually. "Of all the things war ruins, some can be repaired."
And some can't.
Avariella thought then of Ashter and his funeral, the scar on Wylla's neck, the impairment of Callin's eye.
"Indeed," she said, forcing some sense of brightness in her voice.
Lady Catelyn looked at her.
"Tomorrow, we shall go over the plans for the library and make sure the construction is in order," she told Avariella. "And we do expect an arrival of supplies from the South, finally."
"Oh, good," Avariella said. "Is it the wheat from the Reach?"
There had been a newfound agreement between the North and the Tyrells after the eldest Stark daughter had ventured South once again. Avariella had not heard if the marriage between Tyrion Lannister and Sansa Stark had been dissolved. But she reckoned that when it did, Sansa would indeed be marrying the eldest Tyrell, Willas.
"Not yet," Lady Catelyn said. "My daughter has only just arrived, based on her letters."
A degree of sadness flittered across the older woman's features. Avariella redirected her gaze. It must have been quite a thing, she mused, to win a war and still lose a daughter to something other than death.
Avariella, in truth, was not quite sure how she felt about Lady Catelyn. The embers of hatred that once consumed her had now dulled. Avariella suspected it was due to her constant proximity to the woman – she saw the King and the Blackfish sparingly that her distaste for the men managed to linger. She only felt empty when she looked at Lady Catelyn in that instant, as if her entire senses had suddenly been muted. Usually she was too preoccupied to even think about her feelings for the woman.
Avariella frowned and shook her head. Now was not the time for such musings, if there ever was one.
"How is the Lady Sansa?" she asked politely. "And her husband, Lord Tyrion?"
Lady Catelyn frowned at the mention of the latter name.
"My daughter is well," she said carefully, stepping over a small stone. "She enjoys the warm weather of the Reach and is glad to be amongst friends."
"I am glad to hear it," Avariella replied, remembering the haunted look on the eldest Stark daughter's features. Everyone had heard stories of what the Stark girl underwent under King Joffrey's cruelty. From what little Avariella had gleamed, no one deserved that, especially an innocent.
"Thank you," the elder woman said pointedly. She did not speak of her youngest daughter, who was still roaming around the wall and had been for a great amount of time and seemed in no rush to return home. Avariella knew that Ned Stark's bastard was a Watchman and wondered that Arya Stark had grown so close to the boy. He must have been included in their lives for such a thing to happen.
Avariella's siblings – trueborn and baseborn alike (at least those baseborn who were recognized) roamed about the Twins with little separation. Granted, the trueborn sons and daughters were the ones who received a somewhat decent and consistent education, but they all used the same stables, ate the same food, dined in the same room. But she knew that few other noble houses lived the same.
Few wives would have been pleased with such an arrangement. Avariella did not think Lady Catelyn was one of those few. Said woman looked up at the sky and frowned.
"I think it may snow soon, Lady Frey."
Avariella glanced up at the grey clouds, that appeared dark and heavy to her eye.
"Oh," she commented.
A glimpse of a smile appeared on Lady Catelyn's lips.
"There is nothing quite like your first Northern snow," she told Avariella. "I remember mine occurred a mere moon after my arrival in Winterfell. I wrapped myself in all the furs I could find and stood by the battlements and watched as my whole world turned white. All my children loved the snow."
Avariella was suddenly blinded by the notion that she would be having such experiences for the rest of her days. Northern snowstorms and rainstorms and everything in between. The reminder would never cease to shock her.
"Winter anywhere else in the world never compares," Lady Catelyn finished.
"I barely remember my last winter," Avariella murmured. "I have only seen flurries before."
"Mm, I was the same." Lady Catelyn eyed her closely. "I would be lying if I told you I grew used to it. I haven't. I don't suspect I ever will, despite this now being my home."
Avariella opened her mouth, then closed it.
"I do not mean to frighten you," Ned Stark's widow said. "It is still a beautiful country."
Avariella caught sight Lady Catelyn's sworn shield and her response died in her throat.
"Brienne," Lady Catelyn acknowledged.
"Lady Stark, your son and Lady Dacey await you."
"Very well," the elder woman nodded. She looked at Avariella like she almost forgot she was there. "My lady, if you may proceed directly to the Queen until I arrive, I would be grateful."
"Of course," Avariella said. "My lady."
She watched as the two older women walked away before proceeding to do the same thing herself.
It had been a week since Ashter's burial and the Queen had remained in her chambers, claiming illness. It was a flimsy excuse, but Avariella could not deny that the woman did seem increasingly fragile, almost delicate, to her eyes. And she was almost always sleeping when Avariella went to see her. Most afternoons the Queen did not even wake before she eventually left.
On this occasion, the Queen was propped up against her pillows, wide awake. From where she stood across the tent, Avariella could see the dark circles around her eyes. She wondered a moment what ailed her.
"Your grace."
"Lady Frey," the Queen said, her face brightening a little.
Talisa. Call me Talisa.
Avariella resisted the urge to scowl.
"How do you fare today, your grace?" she asked, pleasantly enough.
"Better," the other woman replied. "Much better, though I am still quite tired. I find the cold weather does not do much for my constitution."
Avariella felt something roll in her stomach. The weather in the North was going to get worse and yet – No, she thought. The Queen had been strong before Ashter.
A moment passed.
"Please sit," the Queen said, gesturing to the chair placed beside the bed.
Avariella nodded and quickly sat down. In the silence that followed, she wondered as to what Lady Catelyn, the King, and Dacey Mormont were speaking of – she wondered why Lady Catelyn would come here. The woman rarely mentioned her daughter-in-law, as if they existed in entirely separate worlds.
"Do you like the North?" the Queen asked.
Avariella almost jumped. She glanced at the other woman, found her already staring. She appeared to Avariella as being genuine, not interrogating. There was only simple curiosity in her eyes.
"It's different from the Riverlands," Avariella said. "Much colder and greyer. It's an interesting land, that is for certain."
"I've never been anywhere this cold," the Queen said. "In any place I've travelled. I thought the South was bad, but here—" she shivered.
"How long have you been in Westeros, your grace?"
The Queen seemed to ponder on this a moment.
"A little over two years," she replied. "It took me a few moons after I left home to arrive."
Home.
It was a good thing it was only them two in the tent.
"I see," Avariella commented. "Where have you travelled, your grace?"
"Ta—" The Queen sighed. "I arrived in Gulltown, I believe. Then it was the Riverlands, the Westerlands, even part of the Stormlands. Then King's Landing, and now here."
Avariella let out a soft, breathy chuckle. The Queen quirked her brow.
"Is something the matter?"
"No, your grace," Avariella said. "It's just—" she paused, unsure if she would offend. "It's just, you've seen more of my home country than I have." It was rather ironic too, that Avariella would be considered more of a Westerosi than she, when she's stayed in the same place her whole life.
The look in the Queen's eyes were sympathetic. It made Avariella slightly uncomfortable.
"I remember," the other woman said. "From the journey to Winterfell."
A moment passed.
"If it's any consolation, you definitely know more about Westeros than I do," the Queen said.
She meant it as a joke, but Avariella could see the limpness in her eyes, the small downward curve of her mouth. Seven hells, she thought. Think.
"Your grace," Avariella began. "May I ask you something?"
She blinked, looked a little surprised. "Of course, Lady Avariella."
"Why did you leave Volantis?"
The Queen's lips parted as she stared at Avariella.
"I'm sorry," she said. "I did not mean to offend—"
"No," the Queen cut in. "You haven't offended me. I just – I don't believe anyone has asked me that in this country, besides my husband."
Right, Avariella wanted to say. She waited for the Queen to answer, felt her palms grow slightly sweaty.
"Did you know that slavery still remains in the East, my lady?"
"Yes, your grace," Avariella replied.
The Queen sighed a little. It seemed as though a thousand memories were playing in her eyes – memories that she would never be privy to. After a moment, her mouth twisted, as though she finally decided on something.
"When I was around twelve or so, my parents went to a wedding," the Queen told her. A small spark lit her eyes. "Weddings in Volantis last for a long time – days, even. Nothing like here." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, they left me with my little brother. And – it was a really hot summer day, the warmest I could remember, and so we ran to the river with the rest of the noble children."
Her fingers reached for her throat, began to rub the skin there.
"I was talking to my friend in the banks when I noticed I hadn't seen my brother. It took me a little while to find him, and when I did, he was floating face down in the river, a little further off from anyone else."
A small breath left her mouth, as though it had been knocked out of her. "And I started shaking him and screaming, I didn't know what to do, but then this man came and he—he pushed me out of the way and brought my brother to the riverbank and started pressing on his chest. The slaves in Volantis have a tattoo on their face so you know where they work and who they are – so you don't even have to look at them. For a slave to touch a highborn girl would have meant death, a horrible death."
In the entire time Avariella had known the Queen, her eyes had never seemed clearer, her words never surer.
The Queen smiled a little, though it wasn't exactly happy.
"But he pushed me out of the way," she continued. "And he kept pressing on my brother's chest, until he coughed up all of the water. Then the man cradled my brother's head in his lap and told him everything would be alright, that he was safe. And he smiled this – this brilliant smile, the gentlest I had ever seen. I knew then, in that exact moment, that I could never live in a country that had slaves. I couldn't. And so, after years of learning and training, I left."
Avariella, despite herself, could see in that moment why Rob Stark had fallen in love with Talisa Stark besides her beauty. She imagined the Queen telling Robb Stark about this incident all that time ago in the Westerlands, before they had been secretly wed. Avariella believed that the spark in the Queen's eyes would have brighter, the passion in her voice would have lasted longer.
Now, after the Queen had finished her explanation, her shoulders had hunched over, her smile had dimmed as she nestled back against the pillows. Avariella had seen a glimpse of who the Queen was before Winterfell, before she lost her child, and it had stirred her sympathy. The North either makes or breaks you, a part of her whispered. Avariella tried to will it away with a huff. People can be cruel.
She looked at the Queen. By the gods, she thought, what have we done to you?
Avariella glanced down at her lap, flushed. What in the seven hells was that? She could almost feel the disapproval Lady Barbrey would have if she found out. She scratched the side of her neck.
"What was life like in Volantis?" she blurted out.
"Hmm?"
"Back in Volantis, what was life like, your grace?"
"Different," the dark-haired woman replied absentmindedly. "Definitely different."
Silence fell between them. Avariella could not very well force the Queen to talk, and she dared not ramble on about random matters. She was distracted from her concerns by the sound of Lady Catelyn outside the tent, talking to a guard.
"Ah," the Queen murmured, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear.
Avariella was momentarily concerned that a large party of people was about to enter the tent. She had not prepared the Queen for such a thing – her hair was in a sloppy braid that she had no doubt done herself. Her lips were slightly chapped and pale – it would not do.
A wave of relief washed over her when the only people who entered were three women, consisting of Lady Catelyn, Brienne of Tarth, and Lady Dacey Mormont. Avariella had seen the last sparingly followingly her arrival at Winterfell, same as most of the northern lords. Apparently, a great deal of them had been sent home until Winterfell was reconstructed, so they could reunite with their families.
"Your grace," Lady Catelyn said, her eyes skipping over the Queen to land on Avariella. "Lady Frey."
"My lady," the Queen returned.
Avariella nodded.
Lady Catelyn stepped aside, so Dacey Mormont could step forth. She seemed far more put together than when Avariella had first laid eyes on her, which still wasn't saying much. Her hair was glossier and smoother, though still pulled back in a long ponytail. Her armor had been cleaned thoroughly.
"Your grace," Dacey Mormont said sparingly. "The King has said he has spoken to you of my upcoming appointment."
The Queen did it ever-so-quietly, but Avariella could still hear her sigh.
"Yes," she said to the female dressed in armor. "He has."
Avariella watched, trying to hide her confusion.
"And do you consent to accept my pledge?"
A pause. Avariella could almost feel Lady Catelyn's eyes narrow.
"I do."
Avariella's eyes flickered to the eldest Stark woman, saw her relax, just a little, as if she'd been expecting the Queen to protest. Which, perhaps, she had, at an earlier date.
Gods, she thought. Dacey Mormont the Queen's swornshield? She supposed it made sense, to a certain degree, though why anyone would volunteer for such an appointment was beyond her.
The Queen stared at the other women blankly.
"Is that all?" she questioned quietly.
"No," Lady Catelyn interjected. "You must recite the vow." She took a step back, so she was in line with Lady Brienne.
At once, Dacey Mormont placed her hand on the hilt of her sword, her expression gravely serious. She inhaled and exhaled deeply, then begun:
"I will shield your back and keep your counsel and give my life for yours if need be."
Lady Dacey Mormont placed her sword on the ground by the edge of the bed and knelt.
"My sword is yours, my life is yours, I swear it, by the Old Gods, and the New."
She looked up at Avariella and the Queen, her eyes a stormy grey. She waited; head tilted.
Avariella glanced at the Queen, found her wide-eyed and panic stricken. Gods, she thought. She doesn't even know the vow. Luckily, the Queen was already staring at her, so Avariella did not have to worry about catching her attention.
Think, Avariella thought, slightly flustered. Remember the vow.
"I vow," she began quietly, closing her eyes briefly.
She looked at the Queen, who nodded, understanding.
"I vow," the Queen repeated.
"That you will always have a place in my home."
"That you will always have a place in my home."
Avariella found herself staring directly into Lady Dacey's eyes. It unnerved her, the steadiness in them. She saw none of the greed or the lechery that had plagued her father's knights. There was no ounce of Ser Trent in this woman.
"And at my table."
"And at my table."
"And—" Avariella halted at the sight of Lady Catelyn and Lady Brienne hovering near the entrance of the tent. She had almost forgotten they were there.
Avariella felt the Queen's gaze on the side of her face. She turned her head to meet it and was taken aback by the solemnness in them.
"And I shall ask no service of you that shall bring you dishonor," she finished.
"And I shall ask no service of you that bring you dishonor."
The Queen settled back against the pillow, visibly relieved. Avariella was sympathetic to her plight.
"I will leave you to rest, your grace," she said finally.
The Queen looked at her, a little dazed.
"Yes," she said, rubbing her forehead. "Thank you."
Avariella almost bumped into Lady Dacey on her way out.
"Apologies," she murmured, casting her gaze to the ground. The other woman grunted but remained quiet. She did not leave the tent with them. Avariella wondered if the other woman would regret her choice – after all, it was not as if the Queen was doing anything particularly exciting. This was a time of peace.
Avariella almost blanched when she saw Lady Catelyn waiting for her, a few steps ahead. Mayhaps it was she who deemed the appointment necessary. For what? She thought, rubbing her hands together. Because of what happened with Lilly? I thought the King had fixed that problem.
He had. Avariella had not heard or seen even a little complaint about the Queen since – at least from Lyra and Lilly, and the other girls.
"You assisted her grace," Lady Catelyn stated plainly.
Avariella felt her eyebrows rise off their own accord, tried her best to smooth them over.
"My lady?" she asked, slightly confused.
The look in Lady Catelyn's blue eyes was piercing.
"You did a good thing," she said. "I wish I had thought of informing her before."
She seemed as though she meant it. Though, in truth, Avariella could not tell.
"Thank you," is all she said in turn.
Avariella had tried her hardest not to be left alone with Old Rosa since their previous conversation. Not that the old woman seemed to seek her out, but Avariella tried her best to ensure that at least a few others were nearby when they were in close proximity. Not that other's presence would prevent Old Rosa from speaking her mind.
It was morning, they were all breaking their fast, and Avariella watched Lilly play with Max.
"She's doing well," she commented quietly.
She glanced to her left, saw Jeyna smile slightly.
"As best as she can be," is all the other girl responded. Lyra was conversing with a woman Avariella had seen in the room where they all stitched together. It was true enough. Avariella was more than slightly impressed by the composure of both mother and daughter in the wake of their loss. Avariella had not even seen Lilly cry since the burial.
"Is she not –" Avariella sighed, frustrated. "Is she not silencing her emotions toO much though?" she asked.
For a wild moment, she was worried she had overstepped with her concern. She remembered how she had been after Avos – Shirei and Roslin. . .
Jeyna looked at her inquisitively.
"Her sadness," Avariella said. "Is it wise for a child to bury such a thing?"
Jeyna seemed to contemplate her words a moment. Even Old Rosa began to hum as she pondered. Callin and Wylla paused their conversation from where they sat behind them – Avariella had not been quiet enough.
"I wouldn't say she's burying it, my lady," Callin inserted.
Avariella twisted back to look at her.
"I would agree," Jeyna added. "I would say it's more like we are distracting her from her grief."
"But surely that won't be entirely sustainable?" Avariella questioned. "One cannot hold grief at bay."
"We know, Lady Avariella," Old Rosa croaked.
Avariella resisted the urge to flush.
"What I mean," she amended. "Is that won't it one day catch up to her? We can't all be there with her all the time."
None of them seemed entirely put off by her concern. Instead, they seemed to take it into account. What you did for her, none of us will forget it, Old Nan had said.
Jeyna frowned, just a little, careful to keep an eye on Lilly.
"My lady," she murmured, swiping at her dirt on her cheek. "I wouldn't say we distract her all the time. At night, when she lies awake, there is nothing to distract her, or Lyra. They only have each other, and we can only do so much. But when we are awake, and when we are there with them, we can distract them and try to lift the weight on their chests."
A moment of silence followed before Old Rosa spoke.
"We can't protect them from their dreams," the grey-haired woman said. "But we can try and protect them now."
Avariella felt a shiver run up her spine.
"You all are good friends to them," she said softly.
The other women looked at each other fondly.
"Of course," Wylla murmured. "We can't exactly leave them wallow alone in their rooms to rot, can we?"
Unexpectedly, Avariella felt her stomach clench painfully.
"Right," she said, standing so abruptly she almost fell over. "If you'll excuse me."
She made her way over to Lilly, who was crouched down on the ground, laughing as Max licked the side of her face.
"Are you leaving, Lady Ava?"
Avariella managed to smile at her thinly.
"Yes," she said, trying not to let her sudden tenseness show. "Max can stay with you."
The little girl beamed up at her, showcasing her crooked, yellow teeth. Avariella briefly stroked her cheek before stalking away, her stomach still in knots.
She had only just rounded the corner of the courtyard before she bumped into –
"Your grace," she said, unable to contain her surprise. Oddly enough, she felt close to shaking.
The King looked at her closely, his expression guarded.
"Lady Frey," he acknowledged, his voice slightly cool.
The last Avariella had seen him was with Lilly and her impression of him as a manipulative man suddenly resurfaced. The more she stared at him, however, the more she noticed how anxious he looked, how eager to flee from her presence. His forehead was creased, his blue eyes narrowed with something that vaguely resembled anxiousness, though he was well at hiding it. He seemed almost mad, though at who, she was not sure.
Surely not me? She thought. Why? Because I assisted his wife with a simple vow?
But Lady Catelyn had praised her for that and besides, that was two days ago now. The Queen had not seemed upset with her, though she was awfully quiet, even when awake.
"I hope all is well, your grace," she said evenly.
He blinked rapidly, as if a cloud of mist had just vanished before his eyes.
"Yes," he replied, slightly dismissively, quite. A pause. "Are you on your way to my mother, Lady Frey?"
"Yes," she answered, slightly nervous.
"If you could," he hesitated, rubbed at the side of his chin. "Tell her that Rickon was merely in the Godswood, that is all."
"I…" She shook her head slightly, tried to regain her composure. "Of course, your grace."
He nodded at her and then continued on his way.
Avariella almost shuddered at the sight of his beast following behind closely. It took her several moments to move, and by then, she realized, she was surely late.
Lady Catelyn looked up from her notes when Avariella entered the room.
"Sleep late, Lady Frey?" she asked, though she did not sound too upset.
"No," she replied, before she could think better of it. "I was just with—"
Her voice trailed off.
"Ah," Lady Catelyn commented, sounding slightly more interested. "I see."
Avariella slid into the chair next to her. Her heart had been beating rapidly since she last saw Lilly.
"How is the family?"
Lady Catelyn kept her eyes trained down on the sheets of parchment in front of them.
"Well," Avariella said, once she could find her voice. "Remarkably so."
It was only then the other woman glanced at her.
"And that surprises you?" Her tone wasn't interrogative, simply curious.
Avariella did not know what to say.
"I suppose," is all she managed. "They are very strong."
"Indeed, they seem so," Lady Catelyn agreed. "I have seen the mother working around quite busily since her husband's death. Grief impacts people in various ways, Lady Frey."
Again, Avariella felt her stomach clench tightly. She rubbed at her throat, which had constricted suddenly.
"Are you well?" Lady Catelyn asked, eyes narrowed.
"Quite," Avariella said, letting her hand drop. "I'm not sure what came over me."
Then, before she forgot -
"I bumped into his grace on my way here, my lady," she said. "He said to tell you that your son, Rickon was merely in the Godswood."
All at once, the expression on the elder woman's face darkened.
"I see," she said, turning her gaze back to the books.
Worry formed in Avariella's gut the more she stared at the woman. Something seemed to be bothering the youngest Stark. She still remembered when Maester Bryal came to fetch Lady Catelyn to attend to Rickon Stark. Something was wrong with him – or was at least happening to him, and she did not know what.
Avariella's gaze drifted down, to see Lady Catelyn clutching the table so tightly her hands had turned white.
They ventured into the room with other women later on in the day. Avariella waited near the front as Lady Catelyn spoke with the head woman, whose name Avariella discovered to be Alys.
She spotted Jeyna, Lyra and Wylla near the back of the room. Her heart rolled a little in her chest at the sight of them. She frowned a little and gazed at the ground, hoping to hide her expression. Come on, she thought harshly. Come on.
She slowly walked to the back of the room, sat in the empty chair closest to Jeyna.
"Hello, my lady," Jeyna murmured.
Avariella made a small sound of acknowledgement, reached for a needle in a basket nearby.
"Are you well, my lady? You left quite abruptly this morning."
Avariella could not see any malice in Jeyna's face, only innocent curiosity.
"I'm fine," she said quietly.
Her eyes dropped to the piece of fabric in Jeyna's hands. It appeared to be some old tunic, which Avariella thought stained with blood. Her eyes drifted over to Wylla, then Lyra –
She paused at the sight of a withered piece of cloth in Lyra's lap, which was partly obscured by the placement of her legs.
"What's that?" she whispered, nodding at it with her head.
She was taken aback by the dazed panic in Lyra's eyes.
"It's Lilly's," Lyra said. Her hands lowered; the blanket she was working on slipped to the floor as she grasped onto the cloth in her lap tightly. "Ashter gave it to her. I thought I could mend it but – but I couldn't."
Her eyes suddenly watered as she gulped loudly. Avariella glanced at Jeyna and Wylla, wide-eyed. The latter placed a hand on Lyra's shoulder, rubbing it soothingly.
"It's alright," Wylla said. "I'm sure we can mend it, or replace it—"
"I don't have the material," Lyra whispered back, careful not to alert Lady Catelyn or Alys. "And I can't steal it—"
"Definitely not," Avariella intercut.
They all fell silent.
"Give it to me," Avariella said, extending out her hand.
Lyra's mouth fell open a little, as she clutched the cloth protectively to her chest.
"My lady?" she asked.
"You don't have the material," Avariella said. "But I do – or at the very least I have access to it. Better I do it, than people see you with it and start asking questions."
For a moment, Lyra continued to appear incredibly confused, until suddenly the dazed look in her eyes vanished, and she handed the small blanket over. Avariella held the old, worn out material in her hands tightly. It was a dark grey color, with a white wolf embroidered on it, though it took her a few moments to place the shape. Ashter must have gotten it for when Lilly was a baby.
"I'll take good care of it," she murmured. "I swear it."
Lyra nodded and reached to pick up the blanket she had dropped.
She folded the small blanket and slid it up her sleeve, glad the material was thin enough that it didn't cause it to become too noticeably bulky. Soon enough, though she tried to hide it, nerves settled into her stomach. She was decent enough with a needle, it was true, but to try and replicate a pattern someone else had done, for someone she cared much for –
It felt like a lot. Her fingers felt oddly tingly as she absentmindedly began to tap the tops of her thighs. What if her hands weren't steady and she made an error? Avariella suddenly wished more than anything that she had healer's hands, which were steady and true—
She froze where she sat. Lady Barbrey had told her to try and participate with the Queen in certain activities. To make her feel as though they were included in something together. This was the perfect opportunity. The Queen may not want to show her face, but she could still perform an act like this, no? Surely, she would want to. Avariella's mind flashed back to the Queen in the Godswood, how fragile she seemed, how sorry.
Her eyes flickered over to Lyra, who had returned to her work, oblivious to the sudden idea stirring inside her.
I'm keeping my oath, she vowed internally. Just perhaps not quite in the way you imagined it.
Lady Catelyn raised a brow at her.
"You wish to what?" the elder woman asked again.
"I wish to take some sowing material to the Queen this afternoon," Avariella replied, careful to keep her voice steady.
"Did the Queen mention that she wished to partake in such activities?"
Before Avariella could answer, Lady Catelyn added: "She has been feeling quite ill, recently."
"I know," Avariella acknowledged. "And I would never do anything that would compromise the Queen's health or exert her energy. But I thought this activity would engage her mind and keep her busy."
The other woman seemed to ponder over this a moment, stroking her chin in thought.
"Very well," she said, nodding her approval. "If the Queen agrees…" She said it as though she knew the Queen would not, as though she had tried such a thing before.
Avariella was struck by a slight curiosity to discover what exactly had occurred between the two women to make them so dislike one another. Surely Lady Catelyn could not dislike her just based on the fact that her son had broken his vow to wed her. After all, it had been him who was betrothed, not her.
Avariella found a small basked where she put in some balls of yarn, a few needles, and some small cloths that needed mending. She turned to find Lady Catelyn staring at her, frowning a little, as if she were trying to uncover something.
She resisted the urge to cover herself defensively. By the Gods, you would think I was trying to force the Queen to eat something potentially poisonous. It was just a bit of stitching, that was all.
They worked in silence for a while longer, only occasionally making small comments over the ledgers and previous entries they had made. By the time Avariella was dismissed, she was beginning to think it was not such a great idea. Had she drawn too much attention to herself with the request? Did Lady Catelyn suspect her?
Of what though? She thought, as she strolled about on the grounds. It's not as though I have some evil plot.
You are trying to manipulate a potential friendship with her in order to secure a nice future for yourself, a voice that suspiciously sounded like Avos whispered.
Avariella scowled.
How devious of me, she sneered. Wanting to make sure I'm not entirely unhappy for the rest of my days. If it even works.
The other part of her mind remained silent. Slightly satisfied, Avariella resisted the urge not to smile.
When she reached the Queen's tent, Lady Dacey was standing outside, keeping guard. Avariella wondered if she had been standing there all day in the cold. It must have been quite a letdown, she thought, going from the war to this.
She was still slightly in awe of the sight of the female knight – Lady Brienne as well. Avariella had heard no opposition to the appointment – in fact, hadn't the King been there when they'd discussed it? She was almost certain that Lady Catelyn had mentioned his name.
She approached the entrance of the tent slowly, pausing to address the female guard.
"Lady Dacey," she greeted.
The other woman looked at her.
"Lady Frey," Dacey Mormont returned.
Her chin was remarkably square and strong. Once it was clear the woman was not going to say anything else, Avariella made for the inside of the tent, the drapes closing behind her.
"Your grace – Ah!"
Avariella almost dropped the the basket at the sight of the King's direwolf – Greywind. The beast lifted its head sharply at the sound of her cry but did not growl.
"Greywind," the Queen said pacifyingly, from where she sat on the bed.
The wolf buried his head on the ground, returned to sleep.
Avariella pressed a hand to her chest, tried to calm her racing heartbeat. Gods, she thought, feeling faint. Gods.
"Please sit," the Queen said.
Avariella was glad that the chair was on the other side of the bed from where Greywind was laying. She moved to sit down, grateful that was she was no longer standing on her shaky legs.
"Your grace?" Lady Dacey popped her head in through the drapes, her eyes scanning across the tent. "Is all well?"
The Queen smiled gently at her sworn shield, looking only a little tired.
"Yes," she replied calmly. "I fear Greywind gave Lady Avariella a little fright, is all."
Lady Dacey nodded, moved her head back –
"Wait, my lady," the Queen said. "Please come inside. I'm sure it is cold out there."
For a moment, the third woman seemed taken aback.
"As you wish, your grace," she said solemnly, stepping inside only to hang about near the entrance.
The Queen seemed to know better than to try and urge her to become more comfortable, instead redirecting her attention at Avariella instead.
"I thought you were a dog person," she stated.
It took Avariella a moment to realise she was joking.
"Yes," she said, her heartbeat finally slowly. "But that's no ordinary dog."
The Queen chuckled.
"Yes, I suppose that's true," she agreed. She appeared in better spirits today than she had for quite some time. It gave Avariella hope that she would agree. In that instant, Talisa Stark seemed to take notice of the basket near her feet.
"What is in there?" she asked Avariella.
Avariella bent down to pick it up.
"I brought some cloth and needles," she said finally. "I thought it would be a good thing to try."
The Queen's expression was inscrutable as she stared down at the materials in the basket, as though she were relieving some memory.
Avariella hesitated, her breath caught in her throat. She reached in her sleeve for Lilly's blanket.
"This is Lilly's," she said, after a moment. "Ashter's daughter."
"I remember," the Queen said softly, eyeing the fabric.
Avariella clutched onto it tightly, stroking the seams.
"I promised her mother I would have it mended, properly, since she did not have the materials," she told the Queen. "I was hoping you could help me. I'm sure your stitching is far better than mine – since you have healer's hands."
The Queen remained quiet; her eyes focused steadfastly on the object in Avariella's hands.
"It's quite small," Avariella blurted out, only slightly frantic at the lack of reaction. "A mere blanket fit for a babe, full of sentimental value."
She gulped.
"It may yet be practice, your grace," Lady Dacey said from behind her.
Avariella twisted in her seat to stare at the older woman, who did not return her gaze. Dacey Mormont may have shared Lady Brienne's stony expression, but she did not share her silence. Maybe it was because she northern, born and raised, that gave her the confidence to speak on such matters. And maybe because her family was so clearly valued in the North, by the King, though Avariella had not believed they were the type of people to take advantage of such sentiments.
"For the future Stark babes that you and the King shall have."
The Queen said something then so quietly Avariella was sure she had misheard it was quite unbeliable:
"Not likely," the Queen said bitterly.
Avariella froze in her stance, still turned to face Lady Dacey. She could see Lady Dacey's jaw tighten, just a little, but otherwise she remained externally unbothered.
Avariella turned her gaze to the Queen, who had not seemed to realize the darkness of her statement.
"Your grace," Avariella said, surprised.
The Queen blinked rapidly, finally looked her in the eye.
"What?" she asked, sounding confused.
Avariella heard Lady Dacey shuffle her feet from behind her.
"Would you like some wine, your grace?" the Queen's sworn shield questioned politely, no doubt trying to give them some privacy. Avariella wondered if she was now regretting consenting to the post – it would have been a record, really, for a knight to resign so fast from the Queensguard.
Was Lady Dacey – or Lady Brienne, for that matter, - even a knight? She suddenly wasn't sure. She'd never heard of a King or Queen doing such a thing before.
"Very well," the Queen said.
Avariella waited until Lady Dacey had left before she even attempted to say anything. Should I even speak? She thought. Should I not rejoice at her complete and utter cluelessness?
"Your grace, you cannot say such things," she said, the words flying out of her mouth off their own accord.
The Queen glanced at her, appearing even more confused.
"Apologies," Avariella said quickly. "Forget I said anything—"
"No, Lady Avariella," the Queen interrupted. "Please, continue."
She wondered fleetingly what Lady Barbrey would say if she were here.
"You cannot say in front of others that you do not expect to –" she paused, unsure as how to word it. "That you do not expect the King and yourself to produce children."
"Are you or Lady Dacey about to tell anybody?" the Queen asked, as though the thought were incomprehensible.
Avariella stared at her. Was she serious? She thought to herself. Truly, was she? The woman sitting in front of her seemed almost like a child.
"No," she answered finally, feeling something clench in her gut. "Of course not. But—but if anyone else were here—"
"There wasn't—"
"I'm aware of that, your grace," Avariella interjected coolly. "But my sentiment still stands. People could use such a statement to spread rumors and lies, that would—"
She cut herself off.
The Queen smiled, just a little, though it wasn't happy.
"So that my position won't be weakened any further," she stated finally. "No doubt my husband and I no longer coupling would be cause to have my marriage dissolved, would it not?"
For a moment, the gravity of what the Queen was implying struck her like a block of wood over the head. She could barely comprehend what she was hearing. The King and Queen not coupling? Just because of her ill health, surely?
Avariella was suddenly quite uncomfortable – not just because of her lingering awareness of Greywind's presence.
"I'm not quite sure, your grace," she said evenly, unsure if she sounded any bit reassuring. "But it would probably be wise to keep such statements to yourself."
"You sound like Lady Catelyn," is all the Queen said.
Avariella frowned at the statement. Was that meant to be a bad thing? Judging by the Queen's tone, it was.
The woman sighed loudly, rubbing at her eyes.
"I'm sorry," she said. "That was unfair – to the both of you."
Avariella watched as she lowered her hands to the bedspread.
"It's been a difficult few months," the Queen murmured, as if Avariella had asked her to explain.
She was suddenly reminded by the fact that the Queen had lost a child close to the final month of her pregnancy – a male one at that.
"Of course," Avariella said soothingly. "I cannot begin to imagine."
The Queen's gaze flickered upwards, as if slightly hopeful.
Gods, Avariella realized. She really has been lonely, hasn't she? She doesn't even have her husband.
"It may be worth," Avariella said gently, as if trying to ease the impact of her words. "It may be worth trying again."
The Queen shied away from her, face turned to the side. Avariella was certain she was about to demand that she leave at once and never come back, when the Queen said quietly: "I do not know what I'm doing."
She shut her eyes tightly, as if when she reopened them her surroundings would change. "I thought I did, in the beginning, but I don't."
Avariella thought briefly of Lady Barbrey, of what she would advise. She thought of Roslin and Lady Catelyn.
Finally, she skirted her chair closer to the bed, and looked intently into the Queen's eyes.
"I'll help you," she stated, because it seemed like the right thing to say.
"How?"
It took Avariella a moment to respond.
"I don't know yet," she replied softly, her eyes flickering over the Queen's features. "But I'll help regardless."
She glanced down at her lap, saw that Lilly's blanket had become slightly creased from where it had slipped between her knees. She picked it up again, held it in her hands.
"For now," she said, extending out her hand. The Queen's eyes fell to the fabric. "We can start small."
The Queen looked at her intensely before finally reaching for the cloth and holding it in her hands. She looked at it as though it were something foreign.
"Alright," she whispered, exhaling loudly. "Alright."
Avariella smiled slightly.
Avariella did not return to her tent after she had left the Queen. Instead, she decided to stroll the grounds, hoping she would bump into Lilly and Max. However, when she glanced up at the darkened sky, she knew that Lilly must have already returned to Wintertown and that Max would probably already be in her tent by now.
Still, she continued on, thinking of what she would write to Lady Barbrey, of what she should include. She continued to ponder on this when she walked past the gate leading into the Godswood.
She paused in her steps, turned to the shadowy forest. If she were looking for seclusion, this would be the best spot. She only hoped she did not bump into the King.
Avariella walked along the path quietly, feeling oddly energetic despite the time of day. By the time she reached the clearing, she was so caught up in her thoughts that she did not notice the figure sitting beside the heart tree, and the other standing a few paces back.
"Rickon?" she questioned, her eyes drawn to the young boy, who appeared visibly distraught. Her gaze moved to Osha, who was merely standing there. Do something! She hoped she conveyed with her eyes.
The other woman did not move, as if she knew better than to try and disturb the boy, who seemed to be trembling.
Avariella's feet moved towards him. She crouched in front of him slowly, her knees hitting the floor.
"Rickon?" she tried again; voice gentle. She wondered if he had been here since the morn, when the King had mentioned it. There was no chance he'd simply leave him here. None.
The youngest Stark lifted his head to peer at her. His eyes were wet.
Avariella's heart lurched in her chest at the sight.
"What?" he asked, his voice crosser than she had ever heard it.
"Are you alright?"
He blinked a little, his expression slightly mistrusting.
"Did Mother send you?" he questioned instead.
"No," Avariella replied, slightly surprised by the question.
He seemed to relax a little.
"Do you promise?" he asked, in an even smaller voice.
"I swear it," she said, as softly as she could. "What's the matter, Rickon?"
It took a few moments for the boy to get his bearings.
"I miss Bran," Rickon whispered, tears spilling from his eyes. "I want him back! Where is he?"
She saw Osha hovering in the background. She wondered fleetingly if she would be better equipped to handle this, but her thoughts were cut off by a fresh wave of tears that fell from Rickon's eyes.
"I don't know," she told him honestly. She gently pressed a hand to his cheek. "Just like I don't know where mine went."
"Your brother is here," he said, in a small voice.
Avariella breathed out a chuckle.
"Not that brother," she said. "My other one, who died in the war. I don't know where he is now."
"Isn't that sad?" Rickon asked. "I'm sorry."
"Me too," Avariella replied, her mouth twisting. Her throat felt dry. "And it was sad. It'll always be sad. But he'd want me to be happy, as I am sure Bran would want for you, wherever he is."
Rickon bit down on his lip. "But he's alive," the boy whispered. "I know he is. I would feel it if he died." He paused, then added: "He speaks to me."
"Does he?" Avariella asked. Her hand slipped from his cheek. "How?"
The boy leaned over a little, as if they were conspirators, as if someone in the Godswood could hear them. She met Osha's gaze over Rickon's shoulder, found the wildling woman eyeing her carefully.
"In the trees," he told he. "He whispers to me through the heart tree."
Avariella felt a chill run up her spine. She pulled back a little, instinctively glanced at the white tree with the red leaves. The carved face was staring at her. Avariella resisted the urge to shiver.
She looked back at Rickon, whose young features betrayed no amusement or mischief. He believed this. He genuinely believed it.
Avariella knew not what to say. A part of her wished to brush his claims aside, claim he was only dreaming, that he was only a child. As if he could read her thoughts, Shaggydog brushed his master's side with his long torso. Avariella could feel the heat radiating off the direwolf, could smell his scent.
"What does he say?"
Rickon blinked, as if surprised. "I don't know," he confessed quietly. He glanced down at the ground, his cheeks reddening, as if he had been caught doing something wrong. "It only happens when I dream."
"You dream of the tree?" she prodded gently.
"Yes," he said. "He calls me to it, and I hear his voice and laugh, but it always slips away when I wake up."
"That's okay," Avariella said, reaching out to wipe away his tears. "I'm like that with my dreams too. Sometimes they'll feel so vivid when I'm in them, and then when I wake up, I can barely remember them."
Rickon nodded, seemed to consider this piece of information carefully.
Then, in a small voice, he asked: "Do you dream of him?"
"Of who?"
"Your brother."
There was a moment before she responded. "Sometimes," she admitted. "I used to dream of him a lot after—after I found out he died. But not so much anymore."
She looked down at her lap, her hands twisting in the skirts of her dress. Gods, she thought, rubbing at her chest.
"What did you dream of?"
"I…" her voice trailed off. "I used to dream of his laugh," she said. "And his smile. How his eyes looked when it was sunny or when he would wear the color blue. Or how he used to swim in this small pond by the castle like a fish."
"Did it feel real?" he asked quietly.
Avariella looked at him, blinked away the wetness in her eyes.
"Yes," she said. "It did."
Silence fell between them. Avariella felt a heavy weight settle on her chest. It had felt real – too real. She would wake up and forget momentarily, and then she would remember, and she'd spend the whole day in bed, trying not to choke on her tears, trying to feel anything other than her grief.
She startled when she felt his hand hold onto hers. She looked at Rickon, was struck by the sympathy in his gaze, so innocent and free of complications. It was yet another reminder of how young he was, and how he had lost so much regardless.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to make you cry."
Was she crying? With her other hand, Avariella felt her cheeks and found that a few tears had in fact broken free.
"Don't be," she said, swallowing down the lump in her throat. "It was nice, talking about it."
Gods, this was ridiculous. She was supposed to be comforting him, not the other way around. But she didn't know what to say – should she insist that Bran was gone, like Avos was? That Rickon was only imagining things? It wasn't her place, that was for certain, to dictate to the boy anything about what happened to Brandon Stark. But she couldn't just leave it on this note, either.
"Tell me about him," she said. She glanced up at Osha. "You as well. I'm sure he'd like that."
She looked to the heart tree.
"And maybe," she said, choosing her words carefully. "Maybe he can hear us."
Rickon brightened a little.
"You think so?"
Her stomach churned.
"It wouldn't hurt to try," is all she responded.
Osha sat down a few spaces behind Rickon, as if she were a guard dog ready to pounce. Avariella could see a glimmer of sadness in her murky eyes. She loved them both, Avariella thought. She wondered what that must have been like, letting Bran Stark go off beyond the wall. She hadn't known what was happening down South – none of them had. Would Bran Stark and the Reed children have been so willing to vanish if they'd known that the Dragon Queen was in Westeros? Avariella did not know. She wasn't sure she would ever know.
She glanced at Rickon. There was a possibility that he would never know, either. But for now, this would be enough. It had to be.
"Bran liked to climb," Rickon began. "He used to climb all over the castle. Mother was always cross, but I think – I think Father used to laugh, a little. Arya was better at archery than him, Bran was horrible–"
And he continued on, and on, and on, and all the while, Avariella listened, as she wished someone had when she needed them to.