A/N Surprise! I got this up much sooner than I planned. I hope you guys enjoy this – I wrote this in a pretty fragmented way so I apologize if it doesn't flow as well as it should, I did try to straighten it up a bit. There's a lot of development in this chapter - a few back and forths and everything. I'd say around 1 chapter left of this leg of the story (or possibly 2, I'm still debating on what counts as what) . Let me know what you guys think! Reviews are always appreciated. Thank you guys so much for the response to this story, it means a lot! Feedback means everything!
Stay safe everyone!
Until next time,
Fionakevin073
Chapter 14
Avariella and the Queen had taken to sowing together almost daily. The Queen would work practice her sowing before working little by little on Lilly's blanket, and Avariella would try and mend some other materials that were needed not only in the med bay, but for the people too.
"If my mother could see me now," the Queen sighed, though a small smile curved her lips.
Avariella stared at her questioningly.
"She used to make me practice my stitching for hours and hours," she told Avariella, shaking her head at the memories. Her eyes danced with fondness. "Since I hated to do anything else expected of a Volantis noblewoman."
"What was that?" Avariella asked curiously.
"Oh, I am sure it must be similar to Westeros' noblewomen's education," the Queen said. "I had to practice and recite Valyrian poetry and play the harp."
"Sounds familiar," Avariella said. Her nose wrinkled. "Besides the Valyrian poetry."
The Queen laughed.
She had begun to do that a lot more, over the past few days. Now, when Avariella came to her after finishing her work with Lady Catelyn, the Queen was almost always awake; and when she was, she was already working on Lilly's blanket, or reading a book. The Queen mostly read books in a foreign language that Avariella assumed she had brought from Volantis.
Avariella had asked Lyra if she could add a few extra details to the blanket; the mother had looked at her questioningly, before nodding her ascent after Avariella had assured it would not become unrecognizable.
"Can you speak Valyrian?" Avariella questioned.
The Queen bit down on her lip as her needle almost picked her thumb.
"Very little," she replied. "I've forgotten most of it by now, anyway."
Avariella nodded and cast her gaze down to her own needle. It was becoming increasingly easy to interact with the Queen; easier than it had been growing accustomed to interacting with Lady Catelyn.
Avariella was not entirely sure why that was, but she wasn't unhappy with the development either. At least with Lady Catelyn it was strictly business, instruction and lessons; the Queen had no knowledge to offer her regarding the running of a large Keep and maintaining the ledgers for a large castle, or giving orders to stonemasons, servants, cooks or tradesmen. This was personal, more informal in a way, despite the Queen's superior status to Lady Catelyn.
Besides, Avariella did not think she would be able to survive another awkward encounter with the Queen, with her looking broken and lost. If she could avoid that kind of scenario for a while, she would.
"Max," Avariella admonished. He had begun to bite playfully at her boots. He stopped that instant, putting his head back on the ground.
"He wants to go play," the Queen said, sounding amused. She glanced from Max back down to the work in her hands before lifting it up. "How does it seem to you?"
Avariella observed the stitching carefully. The shape was somewhat familiar, but the tail and shape of his head was too irregular.
"It's better than the last, your grace," she answered honestly.
The Queen put down her needle with a sigh and tossed the small cloth she had practiced on to the side. Avariella watched as she stretched her hands out and wiggled her fingers.
"They're cramping," she stated unnecessarily.
Avariella remained quiet. A prick of guilt had formed in her stomach. If she lost herself, her purpose—
"In Volantis they have elephants, did you know?"
Avariella blinked rapidly.
"Elephants?" she repeated incredulously, then regained herself. "Yes," she said, frowning. "I remember someone mentioning something of the sort…" Was it her Septa? Her father? One of her brothers? She strained to remember.
"They pull the hathay, which is similar to a Westerosi oxcart."
"People use that to get around the city?"
"Oh yes," the Queen replied airily. "Though they also use a palanquin too. Only those who are considered to be people of quality can use them – if nobles or visitors are caught walking on foot, they are tainted in the eyes of the people."
Avariella briefly imagined being carted around Winterfell or the Twins by an elephant, and blanched.
"Yes," the Queen chuckled, having caught sight of her face. "It is quite ridiculous, isn't it?"
It did sound unusual, truth be told. A shot of envy filled her stomach. The Queen really had travelled all over the world, hadn't she?
Avariella shook her head and was about to respond when she remembered.
Avos had told her that. It had been one of the stories he used to whisper to them all at night.
Her stomach lurched treacherously.
"Yes," Avariella murmured, curling her hand around the arm of her chair to steady herself. "I suppose it is."
She stood up abruptly, causing Max to whine. She peered to the entrance of the tent, caught sight of the darkened sky through the small opening.
"Your grace, I must go, it is getting quite late." She was glad not to be lying.
"Of course," the Queen said, sitting up straighter against the pillows. "Sleep well, Lady Frey."
Avariella avoided her gaze.
"Thank you, your grace."
She hastily put her own work and needle in the basket she brought, picked it up and then left the tent, eager to change into her nightclothes and curl up in her cot, with Max beside her.
She was about the enter her tent when the guard standing outside of it stopped her.
"Lady Frey, forgive me, this arrived for you earlier this evening."
He handed her a letter. Avariella fumbled with it for a moment, turned it over to look at the seal, which she soon recognized as Lady Barbrey's.
"Thank you," she murmured distractedly, pushing back the drapes.
She placed the letter on the table and set to work on lighting a few candles so she could see better. Max leapt onto her cot and fell quickly asleep. Avariella was suddenly tempted to wake him so she wouldn't be alone, but before she could even try to do so she stopped herself.
Lucky, she thought, a little viciously.
She prepared herself for bed, and once she had wrapped herself in a large fur, she settled herself behind the desk and reached for the letter. She hesitated only a moment before ripping open the seal and unfolding the scroll.
Dear Avariella,
It brings me joy to hear of your success. What you are doing does not require immense skill or planning – in fact, it seems that she is doing more to ruin her own reputation than anyone else. All you need to do is simply be there and listen, and everything will fall into place. As I've said to you before, if you're going to be angry, at least channel it into something productive and relatively worthwhile – something that will better you. This will.
She sounds lonelier than I expected her to be, truth be told. Has she mentioned anything else of note to you? The more she starts revealing, the more you know it is succeeding. In fact, perhaps you should not write down anything she says that may be truly revealing. . . I leave the choice up to you.
I hope life at Winterfell is not too draining for you. I expect once the reparations are finished the King will recall us to the castle for a feast, and mayhaps you will be able to meet my son, and we shall see each other again.
Remember to persevere, Avariella. This hardship will help you secure your future.
With my deepest regards,
Lady Barbrey Dustin
Avariella let go of the letter with a tired sigh. The Queen had in fact told her something worthwhile; about her and the King no longer sharing a bed so as to make heirs. Should she tell Lady Barbrey?
Avariella was not certain. There was something inherently uncomfortable about writing down that piece of information, and she knew deep down it was more than simply being fearful someone would intercept the letter and inform the Starks that she was spreading their secrets.
Avariella buried her face in her hands, her stomach lurching once again.
She needed rest. A long rest, and a break, from all of these people.
"The Glass gardens should be our next focus," Lady Catelyn declared two days later.
Avariella lifted her gaze from the ledger in front of her.
"Hmm?"
"The Glass Gardens," Lady Catelyn repeated, drumming her fingers on the table.
Avariella recalled the rows of shattered glass near the edge of the grounds she had seen upon her arrival.
"I see," she commented. It was only fair enough to start diverting attention to other matters other than the Library Tower, Bell Tower or Guards Hall. Even the number of wounded in the First Keep had lowered greatly.
"The King needs my assistance in matters pertaining to the Great Hall and the Great Keep, so I was thinking that perhaps you could take charge of the reconstruction plans for a short while."
Avariella gaped at her, struggling to form a response.
"It is one thing to learn," Lady Catelyn said. "It is quite another to use that knowledge. This will be a valuable lesson to you, Lady Avariella –"
Avariella was still in a mild state of shock. It was one thing to assist Lady Catelyn in matters such of these, it was quite another to take charge of something of this magnitude. Why? She thought. This couldn't possibly be the reason—
"I will be here to assist you, Lady Frey, if you shall need it," Lady Catelyn finished. "But this will be valuable not only to you, but to your children."
Ah, Avariella thought. There it is.
But couldn't the Queen just—
Avariella stopped herself from following that line of thought.
"Very well, my lady," she replied, trying to keep her voice steady.
Lady Catelyn looked vaguely amused by the attempt.
"We can discuss it after the meeting with the tradesmen from the Reach," the elder woman said. "After they deliver the shipment of grain, we shall try and establish a permanent route for valuable supplies between us, as you well know by now."
Avariella did. She couldn't help but ask: "Will the King not join us, your grace?"
"I'm afraid the King is rather focused on maintaining the internal trade routes of the Kingdom," Lady Catelyn replied. "There are still petitions he needs to oversee and Lords he needs to talk to. Besides, he has informed me of his desired outcome."
"Of course," Avariella murmured.
By now, Avariella had become quite well versed in the workings of the Northern economy. They had always traditionally been quite isolationist – perhaps this was King Robb's way of opening up, just a little. The trade routes and previous agreements must have changed once he became King.
"The men from the Reach will only be at Winterfell for the meeting," Ladu Catelyn commented.
"Only that?" Avariella asked, almost incredulous. "But White Harbor is a six-day ride away from Winterfell, if not more."
"Indeed, but as we can not host a large party of people in the castle and as the weather worsens, I suspect they wish to leave the North and return home as soon as possible."
It was a rather blunt way of putting it, but it was a reasonable enough assumption. The Tyrells may have allowed Sansa to come to the Reach and given them grain in a gesture of good faith – no doubt wanting to redeem themselves a little after being on the losing side in the war – but no one from there would willingly want to linger in the North, especially if they could not be offered proper accommodations.
Avariella was about to respond when the door opened, revealing Rickon and Osha.
"Rickon!" Lady Catelyn cried out, surprise. She rose from her chair and moved towards her son.
"Is all well/?" the elder woman asked, placing a hand on his curls.
"The King sent for you, milady," Osha grunted from behind him. Rickon nodded his assent, and then looked in her direction.
"Lady Ava!" he beamed, smiling wildly at her.
Avariella could not help but return it. It was good to see him in good spirits again.
"Where is he?" she heard Lady Catelyn ask Osha. Avariella did not pay attention to her reply.
"Come, Lady Ava," Rickon said, moving out from under his mother's grip. "Come with me! I want to show you something."
Avariella's eyebrows rose.
She stood from her chair, reached back to put on her cloak and grabbed a hold of her gloves.
"Mother, can Lady Ava come with me?" Rickon asked, tugging at his mother's skirts.
"Very well," Lady Catelyn replied, her expression rather stern. "I must go and find your brother then."
Rickon laughed and then reached for Avariella's hand, tugging her out of the room. Avariella could not help but follow, with Osha trailing after them. He led her out of the hallway and down to the courtyard where—
Lady Catelyn was right, she thought, her mind flashing back to the elder woman's prediction a few days prior.
Little white flurries were falling from the sky continuously, painting the ground and objects around in white. Avariella felt no desire to move out of the way; simply stood there, marveling at the sight. The last snow she had seen was more than ten years ago now, prior to the long summer.
Avariella outstretched her hands, almost gasped in shock at the coldness of the flurries as they sept into her skin, wetting her palms.
"You should put your gloves on," Osha murmured behind her.
Avariella paid her no heed.
This, this was beautiful. She wished that Shirei and Roslin could have been there to see it.
"I've never seen anything like this," she said, voice full of awe.
Max bounded around her, licking at the ground, his tongue out and waggling wildly. He had been waiting outside for her. She chuckled lightly at the sight of it, beyond thankful that her father had changed his mind and allowed him to come with her.
Even Rickon seemed to laugh. His most recent episode of melancholy vanished as he ran about in the snow, sticking out his tongue as he attempted to catch some. Avariella watched him and smiled. The painful twinge in her twist whenever she looked at him had by now faded into near non-existence and was greatly outweighed by a pleasant warmth in her chest.
She jumped a little when she felt something brush beside her, looked up to find Osha was the source. The wildling's woman's eyes were trained on Rickon, and her expression was lighter than Avariella had ever seen it.
"It's good to see 'im laugh," Osha said. She pronounced her 'to' like a ta.
"Yes," Avariella replied softly, still awestruck by the sight around her. "It is."
"I don't know you," Osha said suddenly. She glanced at Avariella, her eyes suddenly appraising and suspicious. "I don't trust you."
Avariella was momentarily taken aback.
"I wouldn't expect you to," she said. "I barely know you either."
"Ha!" the wildling woman barked. "True enough."
She seemed to ponder something a moment.
"You do seem to care for him though," Osha commented. "I saw it in your eyes when you first laid eyes on him. He reminded ya of someone."
Avariella stiffened.
"That's none of your concern," she said coldly. The pleasant warmth in her chest seemed to ebb.
"Aye," Osha said. "Your past is not."
Avariella kept her gaze on the two children, glad that at least they were oblivious to this interaction.
"You've grown fond of the boys," Avariella said. Obviously she has, a part of her whispered.
"I love them both," Osha said. "The only people who I would ever go over the wall for again is them."
Avariella felt her eyebrows rise. Wouldn't she want to return to her home? Avariella thought fleetingly.
"I would do anything for the little one," Osha told her suddenly, her expression fierce. "Anything."
Avariella did not doubt it.
She didn't ask Avariella if she would do the same – in truth, Avariella did not know how she would respond to that question if it had been asked. Instead, all she commented was: "You take care of him."
Confused, Avariella nodded.
Seemingly satisfied, Osha did the same, and then stalked towards Rickon and patted him on the shoulder.
"C'mon, little lord," Osha murmured. "Let's get you back inside before you catch a cold, hmm? You Southerners can get green over a little snow…"
Avariella refused the urge to point out that Northerners were not, in fact, Southerners, and that this was perhaps the mildest snow they would get for quite a while, and instead watched them go.
Wildlings, she thought, shaking her head slightly, her bewilderment fading.
By the time she reached the Queen tent, her hair had grown slightly wet due to the melted snow. Max had bounded off somewhere – probably to her tent to see refuge. Lady Dacey eyed with something like amusement in her eyes.
"First snow?" she asked, her voice low and gruff.
Avariella nodded and tried to pick off some of the remaining flurries that lingered in her hair.
"Get inside," Lady Dacey said. Avariella could feel the flames from the small fire that had been formed near the exit of the tent. One half of the drapes had been kept open to allow the smoke exit. "Keep warm."
Avariella heeded her advice and sighed as the warmth of the flames licked her face. She wiggled her fingers as the feeling slowly came back into them.
"Having fun?" the Queen asked, from where she was propped up against the pillows.
Avariella found her buried in even more furs. Of course, she would have an even more difficult time adjusting to the climate.
"Yes, your grace," Avariella said, unable to keep the smile off her face. She approached the chair where she usually sat, was glad to find that Greywind was not in the room.
She undid the clasp of her cloak, draped it over the back of her chair. Her gloves fell into her lap as she nestled down and got comfortable.
"It's beautiful," Avariella commented, staring into the flames.
"I feel almost too cold to move," the Queen murmured in reply. "Though I can seem some of it through the opening." She eyed the open drape with something like disdain. It did let some cold air in, but it was a necessary evil.
To Avariella's eyes, it did not seem like the Queen had worked on the stitching more, not that she was upset by this. Avariella realized then that she had forgotten her own basket.
"Busy day?"
"A little," Avariella replied. "We were discussing the reconstruction of the Glass Gardens today."
The Queen made a small sound.
Avariella looked at her, noticed her confusion.
"The glass—" she cut herself off. "It is like a greenhouse," she supplied. "Steamy due to the water from the hot springs."
The Queen nodded a beat too late.
Did she really not know any of that? Avariella thought, something uncomfortable squirming in her chest. Then:she ought to.
"Tomorrow we are expecting the shipment of wheat from the Reach," Avariella commented quietly.
The Queen stared at her, uncomprehending.
"You should come to the meeting," she suggested quietly. "Meet the men from the South - it will be an important trade route to establish, something valuable–"
"Lady Avariella –"
"Just consider it. For just a moment, your grace."
The Queen's eyes appeared to be full of sadness when she looked at them.
"I…I don't know anything about trade routes," the Queen said. "Or even who will be at the meeting tomorrow." She glanced down at her hands, began playing with her thumbs. "I don't even know where the Reach is on a map – or Winterfell, for that matter. Or how the Northern economy works-"
"This is just a small meeting," Avariella said quietly. "You don't have to know everything, or even make suggestions – in fact, there could be discussion about medical supplies that we could possibly need, and you know about that."
The Queen remained visibly unconvinced.
"It's a start," Avariella said. "A small, miniscule one. This is how—" she paused, unsure if her words would come out right. "This is how you can learn." And then: "It will be good for you, your grace, to leave this tent a bit more."
The Queen appeared slightly less hesitant now.
"And Lady Catelyn?" the dark-haired woman asked quietly.
Avariella frowned. "What of her?"
"Will she mind?"
"I have no idea," Avariella said. "And to be quite frank, your grace, you are the Queen. You have the authority to do whatever you like."
"Yes," the Queen murmured. "I suppose I do."
Avariella looked at her for a few moments, aware that the other woman was avoiding her gaze.
"Alright," the Queen said finally, with a hint of reluctance in her voice.
Avariella let out a small breath and smiled a little.
The Queen cleared her throat, rearranging her features into a more brightened expression.
"But look," she said, reaching over to her nightstand and pulling open a drawer. "I think I've finished it."
The Queen reached over to hand the small blanket to Avariella. She lifted it closer to her eyes. No longer was the material course and wrinkled; it was now smooth and clean. The stitches were carefully done, the shapes solid and clear. She smiled softly as she outlined the figure of Max.
"Yes," she murmured faintly. "I think it is."
She lifted her gaze to stare at the Queen, who was beaming.
"Thank you, your grace," she told her genuinely.
"It was no problem," the Queen replied. "If anything, I should be thanking you. For giving me something to do."
Avariella opened her mouth, then closed it.
"After the meeting tomorrow, would you like to give it to Lilly with me?"
The Queen's smile began to vanish.
"She'll love it," Avariella said. "Truly. She's a kind girl and—"
"Lady Avariella, I'm not sure…"
Avariella paused. She did not want to push too much.
"Of course," she piped up quickly. "Forgive me, your grace."
"There was no offence," the Queen replied quietly. "But I do promise I will be at that meeting tomorrow."
"I am glad to hear it," Avariella said.
The Queen smiled in turn, though Avariella still saw glimpses of trepidation in her dark eyes.
It was difficult for Avariella to sleep that night. It was as though Lady Barbrey's letter was beckoning her constantly, eager for a response. But Avariella still knew not what to say, how to respond. In some strange way, she felt guilty, as though she had let Lady Barbrey down because of her hesitance to divulge the Queen's secrets.
Eventually, when she forced herself out of bed, she resolved to try and formulate a response that evening, providing she did not fall asleep first. It was going to be a long day, after all.
It was with more care than usual that Avariella dressed herself for the day. She managed to fish out one of her nicer dresses from the bottom of one of her chests. She grabbed a hold of her mirror, checked to see that her hair was even and not a curl out of place.
The people from the Reach would not be arriving until past midday, so she had more than plenty of time to break her fast and converse with Lady Catelyn. As she went to the cooks for something to eat, she caught sight of Lilly, Lyra, Jeyna and the rest across the courtyard, waiting in line for their own bowls of food.
She smiled slightly at the thought of Lilly's reaction. She would be pleased – at the very least, Avariella hoped so. Max bounded off towards Lilly with excited barks. She felt tempted to join them but refrained; that could wait.
Avariella was munching on an apple on her way to Lady Catelyn when someone called out to her.
"Lady Frey!"
Avariella turned to find Lady Brienne hurrying over to her. Her large nostrils were flaring as her jaw tightened.
"By the Gods they're not here already?" Avariella asked, horror-struck.
"No," Lady Brienne replied quietly. "But if you would come with me, my lady. The King and Lady Stark await you."
Avariella felt a touch uneasy as she followed Lady Brienne. She was leading them to the usual room they worked in, so at least it was not a place unfamiliar. But why was the King there? She kept thinking. Did they know of Lady Barbrey—
She gulped loudly as they reached the door. She did not know what lay behind it.
Lady Brienne pulled it open, waited for her to walk in, before letting it shut without having followed her. Avariella's eyes immediately caught onto Lady Catelyn, who was standing near the edge of the room, looking mildly anxious. She felt a jolt of surprise as she saw the Blackfish lingering behind the King.
"Your grace," she said, setting her apple on the table. She curtsied appropriately.
"Good morning my lady," he returned. "I hope Lady Brienne did not alarm you too much."
"There was nothing of the sort," Avariella lied.
She could not tell if he believed her.
"I apologize for the wait Mother but seeing as Rickon has a fondness for Lady Frey I thought it best to wait and tell you both at once."
Avariella glanced nervously at Lady Catelyn. What did Rickon have to do with any of this? Was he harmed? Ill? Missing?
The King took a deep breath and said:
"Osha is gone."
Avariella felt her entire body grow cold.
"What?" she breathed, unable to help herself.
The King's eyes flickered over to her. They seemed to soften minisculely, although they still remained incredibly stormy.
Even Lady Catelyn appeared to be beside herself.
"Gone?" the elder woman asked incredulously. "Where? How?"
The King lifted his gaze off her to look at his mother.
"We don't know," he answered. Only the tiniest clenching and unclenching of his hands revealed any emotion. "She appears to have just disappeared."
Gods, Avariella thought, rubbing the space between her brows. Seven Hells.
"She would never abandon Rickon," Lady Catelyn was saying. "There is not a chance. He'll –"
Avariella glanced at her. She had never seen Lady Catelyn lose her stern composure completely and was surprised by how unnerved it made her feel.
"What I don't understand," the Blackfish interjected from behind the King. "Is why?"
The question stunned her. Why?
"Yes," the King piped up. "I am curious as to that myself."
But Avariella suddenly felt ill. She recalled now her encounter with the wildling woman – I love them, Osha had said, in her typical gruff tone. I would do anything I could for the little one – anything.
And then –
The only people who I would go over the wall for once again is them.
You take care of him, she had said. Before, it had sounded like a statement of fact, not a request.
"Bran," she said, before she could stop herself. She could hear her heartbeat in her ears; wondered distantly if she looked as dumbfounded as she felt. "She went to look for Bran."
Instantly, the King's expression seemed to darken. Lady Catelyn let out a small gasp.
Avariella closed her eyes tightly, tried to will herself to remember the entire conversation.
"She said to me that the only people she would go over the wall for again is them," she recounted, opening her eyes. "She said take care of him. I—I—I thought she was – I didn't think—"
"You had no reason to," the King interrupted.
Avariella looked at him. He was staring at her, but the look in his eyes was somewhat glazed over, as if his mind were somewhere else.
She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it. He was right. There had been no indication that Osha would suddenly leave in the dead of the night, with no word. Avariella did not even know the woman that well.
"Presuming, of course, this is what happened," the Blackfish commented, "It would mean that she is making her way to the wall this instant."
"Yes," the King said. "I suppose it would."
They all looked at him.
"Should we send a party out for her, Robb?" the Blackfish asked.
Avariella felt something inside of her squirm. The Blackfish's use of the King's first name felt unnatural and unfamiliar to her. She watched the King closely. It would be the quite the thing if he did consent to sending guards out to look for the wildling woman who had seemingly left off her own accord.
"No," the King answered. "No. If she wants to leave, let her."
None tried to change his mind – Avariella herself did not see a reason to. Poor Rickon, she thought.
"Robb," Lady Catelyn said, her voice raw.
The King merely stared at her.
"Do you think. . ." the mother cleared her throat. Avariella did not think she was imagining the glint of hope in her eyes. "Do you think she can? Find Bran? Bring him home?"
"I think," the King replied, sounding as though he was choosing his words carefully. "That of anyone we know, she's the one who knows the land beyond the wall best. And that's where he went, last we heard."
The Blackfish grunted from behind his nephew, leaving Avariella to believe that he also agreed. But it was still so strange. Was Osha truly convinced by Rickon's dreams that Brandon Stark was still alive?
Perhaps it was a Wildling thing – or perhaps she had simply left because she wished to.
No, she thought instantly. Lady Catelyn was right; Osha loved Rickon too much to ever leave him – if she hadn't left him before, through the war and their escape from Winterfell, why would she now?
It didn't make sense, and that was what she was worried about the most. How would this be explained to Rickon, whose moods fluctuated dangerously every day? Who was still traumatized by the sack of Winterfell and the months he spent with his brother fleeing from the Iron borne and trying to find refuge?
"We must tell Rickon," the King said to his mother.
"Yes," Lady Catelyn agreed quietly, looking aggrieved. "We must."
She turned to Avariella.
"Will you look over the ledgers, my lady? Make sure we have everything in order before the tradesmen from the Reach arrive?"
"Of course," she replied instantly.
Lady Catelyn looked little comforted by her response and instead nodded solemnly, before turning to face her son. The King offered Avariella a nod himself, before he and his mother swept out of the room, forgoing any courtesies, not that Avariella blamed them.
Only her and the Blackfish remained.
She met his eyes for only a moment, was somewhat surprised by the observant look in his blue orbs.
"As you were, my lady," he said, before he also trickled out of the room.
Seven hells, she thought, falling into her seat. Her stomach was in a twist. Gone? She kept thinking. How could she simply vanish over the course of one night?
Unless she was planning this for quite a while, another voice whispered in her head.
Avariella struggled to focus over the ledgers and reports provided from the northern houses. It seemed surreal to think that in a few short hours she would be listening to descriptions of the Northern economy and what the Reach needed to support its people in turn.
A short while later, the door opened to reveal Lady Catelyn. Avariella jumped at the sound, having just finished eating her apple.
Lady Catelyn had regained her composure in the short duration of her absence. Avariella was tempted to ask of Rickon – was desperate to ask, truth be told, but thought better of it.
"We could not find him," Lady Catelyn informed her, her tone matter-of-fact. Her voice was even and firm, betraying no anxiety. "It seems he had woken and went to look for Osha himself. The King has assured me he will see to it."
Avariella nodded and remained quiet. That was a longer explanation than she had ever dared hope to receive.
"Is everything in order?" Lady Catelyn asked promptly.
"Yes," Avariella blinked, suddenly slightly flustered. "All of our preparations appear to be in order for when the Queen and the tradesmen of the Reach join us."
"The Queen?" Lady Catelyn asked.
It took Avariella a moment to realize that no one – including herself – had informed Lady Catelyn of the upcoming presence of her daughter-in-law. Avariella was reluctant to divulge that she had asked the Queen to join, fearful that it would seem she was trying to sow dissent amongst the Starks or imply that she was not confident in Lady Stark's judgement.
"Yes," Avariella replied carefully. "Her grace has said she intends to join us."
"Has she?"
Avariella resisted the urge to squirm.
"Yes," she said again, forcing herself to sound more confident than she felt. "She has."
I promise, the Queen had said. Avariella suddenly felt reassured. She hadn't done anything wrong, had she? In fact, this would be for the Queen's own good, Lady Catelyn's feelings be damned.
Instead of getting angry, the elder woman's expression instead turned slightly pitying, as if she knew something Avariella did not.
"My lady," Catelyn Stark began. "I fear that—"
She cut herself off.
"I fear that the Queen has a rather unpredictable schedule," Lady Catelyn tried again. "And often, it appears as though other matters take precedent over ones such as these, like her healing practices."
"But the number of wounded have rapidly depleted," Avariella countered, before she could quite stop herself. "There would be no need to—"
"I am aware," Lady Catelyn interjected. "But being a healer is where her priorities seem to lie."
"She gave me her word," Avariella said, suddenly feeling a bit cross.
"I'm sure she did," Lady Catelyn returned. "But—" She stopped.
Lady Catelyn sighed slightly but said nothing more on the subject.
In what was only a few hours but felt more like centuries, Lady Brienne opened the door to say –
"They are here, my ladies."
Avariella followed behind Lady Catelyn closely. Her mind kept on leaping between Rickon and Lady Catelyn's clear disapproval of the Queen, her lack of expectation. Why was the relationship between them so sour? It could not simply be due to how the King and Queen were wed – that seemed to petty an issue now. Perhaps it was linked to why the King and Queen –
"Welcome," Lady Catelyn said, "To Winterfell."
Before Avariella realized, they had arrived at the East Gate. Two men dressed in green and gold were standing near two long wagons surrounded by their own guards, whose armor bore the Tyrell standard.
Avariella tried her best to rearrange her features into something neutral. The two men stared around at the castle, which was still undergoing construction. Avariella felt something sour form in her mouth – if they were about to judge—
"Thank you," one of the men said. "For welcoming us."
Lady Catelyn nodded.
"This is Lady Avariella Frey," she introduced, stepping aside to reveal Avariella.
The men appeared to be vaguely curious as they surveyed her but appeared ultimately dismissive. This was her first encounter with any nobleman outside of the Riverlands or the North. And yet, even as she introduced herself, Avariella was yet again made aware of how small of a player she actually was. These men were vaguely curious about the Frey girl the King in the North might have married and brought up North, but ultimately, she was no one.
"Shall we?" Lady Catelyn said, cocking her head towards the castle.
They had arranged to host the representatives in one the larger refurbished rooms. Before they had left, servants had transferred their ledgers to the room.
"Yes, of course," the other man cut in.
Lady Catelyn led the way, with Avariella close behind. They all exchanged polite pleasantries as they walked there.
"How do you find the North, Lady Frey?"
"Quite pleasant," she replied.
Then the other man, to Lady Catelyn:
"And the King? Is he well?"
"Of course," the elder woman said smoothly. "He has a few other urgent meetings to attend to at the moment, but we shall see him after we finish the negotiations."
"Of course," the man next to Avariella cut in. "His grace must be a busy man."
Brienne opened the door for them. They all shuffled in and spread around – Lady Catelyn and Avariella sitting on one side of the table, the Reach men on the other. They pulled out their own ledgers from their satchels and spread them out in front of them.
"We brought the shipment of grain as promised when Lady Sansa arranged to come to the Reach," one of them said. "And now we seek to establish something more permanent—"
"Forgive me Sers," Lady Catelyn cut in, sounding a bit reluctant. She glanced meaningfully at Avariella. "But I believe her grace must be joining us."
"Yes," Avariella piped up. "She told me she would attend."
The two men looked vaguely bemused. It occurred to Avariella then how they had not even asked after the Queen and she felt something inside of her bristle. The Queen had been in King's Landing, had she not? She wondered fleetingly what kind of impression she had made there.
Avariella jut out her chin proudly. The Queen had told her she would attend – she hadn't sent anyone to say that she wouldn't. Despite her faults, even if she had the decorum to send someone to say that. You'll see, she thought, glancing at Lady Catelyn. She wants to learn. She does.
But time trickled past, and the Queen did not arrive. Avariella began to shift uncomfortably in her seat. A thin layer of sweat began to form near the scalp of her head. Come on, she thought. Where are you?
She became increasingly aware of Lady Catelyn staring into the side of her head. Avariella refused to look. She did not need to be patronized or looked at with pity.
One of the men cleared his throat loudly.
"Perhaps," he said, glancing at her with a slight look of patronization. "Perhaps the Queen will not be joining us today, after all. Wouldn't you say so my lady?"
Avariella had to swallow down her humiliation.
"Yes," she agreed, forcing herself to keep her voice light. "So it would seem."
"Very well," Lady Catelyn cut in. "Do you have any proposals to start with, Ser?"
Avariella felt oddly lightheaded, had to try incredibly hard to keep herself focused.
It felt as though she had been given some mysterious challenge and failed, and now no one would take her seriously.
It took a long time for the meeting to finish. Avariella had listened as carefully as she could but took care to keep her words to a minimum. Gods knew she did not need to add to her humiliation – or that of Lady Catelyn's, who had also been made to look like a fool.
Once the agreement was to both party's satisfaction, Avariella watched as the two men began to pack their things.
"We must begin our return to White Harbour,'" they explained.
"The King would like to see you both," Lady Catelyn said, rising from her chair. "I will meet with you both in the courtyard to bring you to him."
They bowed and left the room.
Avariella continued to stare down at the table.
"I must go to see on the Queen," she murmured, dusting her skirts as she rose.
She could see Lady Catelyn nod out of the corner of her eye, took that as her dismissal.
"Lady Frey?"
Avariella stopped in the doorway.
"Leaders be what their people need them to be, not what they personally desire."
Family. Duty. Honour.
Avariella left without responding. The more she walked, the quicker her steps became. Something must have happened for the Queen to not appear and uphold her word – and for her to not even send someone—
Avariella thought she caught sight of Lilly at the edge of her vision but did not stop to make sure. She had one singular purpose.
It must have been Lilly, for Max almost immediately sidled up next to her as she stalked towards the Queen's tent. A flurry of emotions plagued her senses – she could barely distinguish one from the other – humiliation, anger, confusion –
She caught sight of Lady Dacey from afar and forced her breathing to slow. She must maintain some semblance of calm, or else even the Queen's sword guard would be alarmed by her appearance.
Breathe, she thought, placing a hand on her chest. Breathe.
Once she felt she had calmed reasonably enough, she continued. She did not greet Lady Dacey as she pushed open the drapes.
"Your grace?" Avariella questioned, entering the tent. "Is all we…"
Her voice drifted off at the sight of the Queen. She was bloodstained and messy, her hair pulled back into a braid that was now falling apart. She looked as though she had just been to the med bay.
"Your grace?" she asked again, her voice weak.
The Queen turned to look at her, eyes wide. Her hands were in a basin of water, a bloody cloth next to it.
"Is all well?" Avariella questioned, alarmed. "Are you hurt?" She moved closer to the Queen, eyeing her body for any injuries.
"I am quite alright, Lady Avariella," the Queen said. She smiled brightly.
Avariella halted in her steps.
"But you—" she cleared her throat. "But you missed the meeting. We were waiting for you for nigh on an hour."
"Gods," the Queen cried. "Has that happened already?"
Avariella stared at her.
"Yes," she replied coolly. "I told you that several times."
"You're quite right," the Queen murmured, blinking rapidly. "There was an incident near the edge of the camp with a few of the soldiers – I had to go and assist."
"Were they near death?"
"Oh, no," the Queen replied pleasantly. "Just a small head wound. But I heard the guards talk of it outside, and I couldn't help but go and assist."
In Avariella' mind, she was reliving the humiliation she had faced not just hours before.
The Queen moved dried her hands on the cloth beside the basin, moved to her nightstand to pick up her brush. Avariella's eyes drifted to the cloth the Queen had set down and felt her heart drop to her stomach when she recognized.
"No," she gasped quietly, snatching it into her hands. She scrutinized it carefully, felt something sharp pierce her chest when she recognized the patterns she had helped the Queen mend, the fineness of the material. It was all stained with blood and wet with water. It was ruined.
"Perhaps we could reconvene with the men this evening?"
"No," Avariella muttered, having been rendered into a state of shock. "They have begun their return to White Harbour and plan to leave the next morn."
Avariella saw from the corner of her eye the Queen turn to look at her, but she did not glance up.
"Is everything alright?" the Queen asked, oblivious. "I just grabbed that one – I think it might need a bit of a washing, though I wouldn't mind doing it." She paused, seemed to survey the cloth a bit more closely. "Or perhaps we should just throw it out."
She snapped her head up at that. Avariella gaped at her, horror prickling up her spine.
She clutched tighter onto the bloodied blanket.
"I—"
She closed her mouth, too stunned to formulate a sentence, let alone process how it sounded.
This woman had made her not only a fool, but a liar too.
"Very well, your grace," she said, feeling oddly hollow.
"Lady Avariella—"
"I must go," she cut in, courtesies be damned. "I am needed. . . somewhere."
She stalked out of the tent before the Queen could call her back and question her as to what the matter was.
I vouched for her, she thought numbly, staring down at the cloth. I sympathized with her.
She almost stumbled to the ground when she tripped over a small rock she hadn't noticed. She pocketed the thin cloth into her sleeve, resolved to draw as little much attention to herself as possible.
A swell of emotion was forming in her stomach as she continued to stalk about the camp, quite unsure of where she was going. It was as if the whole world had turned into a blur, had suddenly begun to grow slow.
Damn them all, she thought. This is the second time I've put my faith in them and this is what comes of it?
She needed to sit down. She needed air. She needed to throw something.
Avariella set off to the Godswood, her strides so quick and furious that by the time she reached the gates, her thighs had begun to burn. Damn them, she thought again. Max was struggling to keep up with her, made small whining sounds as he sensed her distress.
She grit her teeth at that. No, she wasn't distressed. She was angry. Angry for letting herself be fooled once again. Angry that she had felt something for the Queen in the first place, that she had let Lady Barbrey down and the elder woman did not even know it.
She felt as though she could set the whole world on fire. By the time she reached the end of the path, Avariella was muttering curses under her breath, so she was unable to hear that people were already in the clearing.
As she lifted her gaze from the ground, she noticed with a jolt that Rickon and the King were already there. She took a few steps back, hid a little behind a tall bush. "Shh," she hushed Max, who had curled up in between her legs. She returned her gaze forward.
Rickon was visibly grieved. He knew, she thought, almost all of her anger draining out of her. He knew Osha had left. The King must have only just found him now, or have only just told him.
She felt so incredibly tired in that instant, so drained, she couldn't move. Avariella didn't think she would be able to even if a ball of fire had been flying at her.
She watched the two brothers closely. Rickon was crying and emitting little gasps, as though he found it difficult to breathe. She felt as though her entire body was split in two – on one side anger, on the other pity. Rickon looked too much like Avos for her to truly hate him, or direct any of her anger at him, though she had never hated that fact more in that instant.
Rickon appeared to be pulling away. Avariella caught sight of Shaggydog in the shadows of the trees, with another similarly large shape trailing behind him – Greywind. He was batting at his elder brother's hands, evading his attempts to embrace him, though it didn't seem like the King was trying to put up much of a fight.
"Leave me alone!" Rickon cried. "I want Bran! I want Osha!" He slapped the King's chest.
The King grabbed a hold of his youngest brother, locked his trembling form in a fierce grip.
"Rickon," he said, sadness undeniably in his voice. His eyes were clenched shut as he sunk to his feet, Rickon in his grip, and began to rock back and forth soothingly. The longer she stared at them, the more concerned she became over him possibly squeezing Rickon to death. But another feeling was bubbling in her chest as well, something she did not quite recognize.
"It's okay," the King said.
This was a man at his most vulnerable. He was holding onto Rickon as if he wanted to protect him from everything the world could possibly unleash, as if he held him long enough all of his wounds, terrors and demons would fade away. In that moment, Avariella believed that the King would have taken on the burden of all his little brother's grief in an instant if he could, even if it would only give him a moment's respite.
"It's alright," he murmured into Rickon's ear, stroking the nape of his neck.
Rickon appeared to calm down for the moment. But Avariella knew, just as she was sure the King did, that this was not the end of his terrors, his blind panic. His mind would haunt him for some time, something not even a King could protect someone from.
It must be quite a thing, she thought suddenly, observing the sorrow on the King's face. To go to war for your family – to win a war for your family, and still not be able to protect them entirely, or return things to as they once were.
For Robb Stark had won a war, yes, but his home had been burnt to rubble; one sister had fled Winterfell and the other seemingly refused to return; one brother was presumed dead and the other was wild and panic stricken.
Of all the things war ruins, some can be repaired, Lady Catelyn had said. But this couldn't.
She wondered briefly, what it must have felt like for him to realize that he could not restore his siblings to their former selves, that sometimes war leaves an impact one cannot see with the naked eye but which plagues the victim regardless.
Avariella choked, suddenly, and stumbled back a few steps, alarmed by the growing emotion in her chest, which she fought to vanish. No no no, she thought angrily, turning away from the scene. No.
She was furious with herself for her weakness, so furious she could feel herself begin to shake. She stumbled blindly back to her tent, eager for privacy, for a place where she could unleash the depth of her frustration without another soul to see. She would write to Lady Barbrey, she would ask for her forgiveness and admit her weakness, and she would force herself to make amends with the Queen to keep up appearances. Then, hopefully, she would leave this wretched place – preferably to Barrow Hall – and never look back.
Yes, she thought. The tent. I will go there with Max and a cup of wine and find my resolve. I shall.
She sighed with relief when she approached her tent. There she would be able to rest and recuperate and come back to her senses. She pushed through the drapes, only to find –
"Olyvar."