A/N Hey guys! I'm so sorry this took so long! I'm not entirely pleased with this chapter, but it is an important one, so I hope you enjoy it. Thank you so much for the support on this story! Over 200 follows! I'm so appreciative. Let me know what you guys think. There will be a small time jump next chapter - which is where things will definitely start to pick up. I hope you enjoy!
Until next time,
Fionakevin073
Chapter 15
Avariella felt her entire body freeze at the sight of her brother. Max bounded to him from her side, circled around him a few times, and then returned.
"Go rest, boy," she said. Max leapt onto her cot without a sound.
"What are you doing here?" she asked. Her eyes caught sight of the wine on her desk from the night before and she moved to pour herself a glass before he replied.
"I hope you don't become an alcoholic, Avariella," he said, in what could be interpreted as a mildly joking tone. "Too much wine rots the brain."
Avariella let out a small sound before she finished her drink in one gulp.
"You forget we have the same father, Olyvar."
She turned around, set her cup back on the table.
"What are you doing here?" she repeated.
"I came to see you."
"Well, I certainly hope you weren't expecting to find someone else when you came into my little humble abode," she snarked.
"Of course not," he replied smoothly.
Avariella glared at him. All she wanted to do was rest and drink and curse the world with no one but Max for company. She yanked the blanket out of her sleeve and set it on the table, uncaring that Olyvar saw her do so.
Seeing him brought up another wave of emotions too.
She massaged the space between her brows, felt another headache come on.
"Olyvar, listen—"
"What are your plans with the Queen?" he asked quickly.
"My plans with the Queen?" she repeated blankly. Her hands instinctively drew towards the blanket, clutching it tightly. "Nothing," she said, a hint of disdain in her tone.
"Hmm," Olyvar hummed.
"What?" she snapped irritably.
"Forgive me if I'm a little suspicious of your motives, sister," Olyvar said.
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"It means that I know you," Olyvar said. "I know your heart, your feelings. Your sudden fondness for the Queen must mean something."
Avariella bit down on her lip to prevent herself from screeching at him.
"Is it some scheme of sorts? You can't have genuinely expected anything from her, or truly wished her to succeed—"
"You don't know anything, Olyvar."
She let go of the blanket to clutch onto the corners of the table.
"So what?" she asked, sighing a little. "We barely speak for over a moon and this brings you running?"
Olyvar stiffened defensively.
"This isn't a game," he said quietly. "The Starks are just people, but they don't appreciate being humiliated—"
"What exactly is it that you think I'm doing?" she asked incredulously. "Truly, Olyvar, what is it you think? Enlighten me."
"You're close with Lady Barbrey," he said. "I know that she's been sending you letters-"
"What?" she squawked, temper flaring. "Have you—have you been surveilling my letters?"
"No," he responded. "I went to retrieve a letter of my own when I heard a guard mention an arrival of a letter from Barrowhall for you."
"Well in that case," she drawled.
"Am I wrong?" Olyvar questioned brusquely, brushing her outrage aside as if it were nothing more than a feather.
Avariella took a deep breath to calm herself.
"Olyvar," she gritted out. "I have no desire or intention of hu—" she took another calming breath. "Of humiliating the Queen, or seducing the King, or whatever other plot you think I have cooked up. Nor does Lady Barbrey."
It was true enough. Avariella did not see the need to focus on the technicalities – did not wish to either. Her own embarrassment and humiliation still lingered beneath the surface, bristling like an animal preparing to strike.
Olyvar was quiet a moment.
"I don't believe you, sister," he stated plainly.
"And that is my fault, how, exactly?"
"Avariella, tread carefully, these people are the ones who are the ones who will decide who you will wed! Your whole life—"
"Believe it or not Olyvar I am aware of that," she snapped.
"Yes," he said evenly, looking mildly abashed. "I suppose you are."
"You suppose?"
She shook her head.
"Leave me alone, Olyvar," she said. "I am not in the mood—"
"I don't care whether or not you're in the mood!" he cried out. "This is serious, Ava—"
"Don't call me that," she snapped. "You don't get to—"
She stopped herself with a huff.
"Ah," Olyvar said softly, a sigh escaping his lips. "This is what it's come to, has it not? This is what it has always been about. Avos."
Avariella felt herself stiffen.
"And?" she questioned angrily. "And what if it is about him?"
Olyvar's eyes flashed.
"He's dead, Avariella! He's rotting in the ground and you continue to loathe anyone blindly—"
"Stop," she murmured, closing her eyes.
"And have isolated yourself again from those who love you the most! When will you begin to let go of your anger, Avariella? When will you let him rest? And when will you cease your personal vendetta against the King—"
"Enough!" she cried, her eyes flying open. "That is enough!"
"Avariella –"
"No, stop—" she hissed. "Just stop! You don't get to do this."
She stalked up to him and poked him in the chest.
"You chose to do this to me—"
"How can you say that? I never wanted Avos to die—"
"That's not what I am saying! Seven hells, Olyvar! You made a choice and now I have to live with it."
"And what? Avos made his choices and it got him killed, but he's still a saint in your eyes—"
"Shut up!"
"By the gods, sister, sometimes I do question your judgement. I speak to you not out of any ulterior motive but out of bloody concern for you, and how you will end up."
"End up?" she asked hollowly. "You mean like Avos?"
She saw the breath leave Olyvar.
"That's unbelievably cruel," he said. "Even for you."
"We live in a cruel world," she replied. "I've grown used to it."
He laughed darkly. "So what? Is this it? You just become some hollow, bitter woman for the rest of your days, only full of anger? And for what? What will it accomplish? Hmm? Please, tell me!"
Avariella felt her fists begin to tremble.
"Don't you understand?" she cried. "If I stop being angry then I have to let him go!"
"What?" Olyvar breathed, his features almost instantly softening.
Tears pierced her eyes.
"It's all I have left," she said. "It's all that keeps him alive, keeps him with me, even if it doesn't make sense anymore." She bit down on her lip so hard it almost bled. "It's the one thing I can do for him."
"Ava…"
"Don't Ava me," she said. "Just don't."
She shook her head, swiped angrily at her cheeks.
"I can't let him go," she whispered. "I don't know how. And—" her voice wobbled dangerously. She pushed on. "Who will remember him if I stop? Who will even care that he died and fight for him?"
She lifted a hand to her forehead and exhaled loudly.
"Gods," she whispered, shaking her head. "But his death wasn't even honorable, was it?"
She closed her eyes tightly, let her hand fall limply to her side.
"I'm not mad at you because I wished you had died instead," she said. "I'm angry because you put me in this position."
"Avariella—"
"Stop," she told him. "What Avos asked you to do – lying to us about who he had turned into – was wrong, and selfish. I know that." She looked him dead in the eye. "I do. And I understand why you decided to keep that promise – or try to, anyway. What I don't understand, and what I struggle to forgive you for, is why you waited to tell me until now."
"What?"
She continued on as if she hadn't heard him.
"You had over a year," Avariella said. "You saw how bad I was, how angry, how bitter—"
"I didn't want you to remember him like that."
"Olyvar," she said, laughing a little. "Nothing could ever change how much I loved Avos. You know that."
Reluctantly, her brother nodded.
"You waited until my hatred had deepened so greatly – until I was nothing left but bitterness and emptiness. You didn't tell me when Shirei and Roslin were there, where I could seek out some degree of comfort. You didn't. You waited until I was hundreds of miles away from home, told the King—" her mouth twisted with part scorn, part anguish.
"You told him before you told me," she said. "He knew how our brother died before I did. You made me a fool. And now, since Roslin and Shirei do not know and since I can't possibly tell them something like that in a letter, I have to pretend like everything is fine and swell. I don't know if I'm ever going to see them again."
She took a deep breath, then continued. "I'm not saying you told me because you were trying to be cruel or malicious. But you didn't tell me out of the kindness of your heart, either."
She swiped at her eyes, furious that she was close to tears. Stop, she snapped at herself. Enough. Stop.
"That's not fair," Olyvar said, voice low. "If I had told you then, it would have broken you!"
"I was already broken!" she hissed. "You let me rot in a room—"
"You told us to leave you alone—"
"I was grieving!" she shrieked. "Roslin tried once—maybe twice. You tried the same amount—"
"You fell apart," Olyvar snapped coldly. "We did not want Shirei to see you that way—"
"I took care of everyone," Avariella said, all of her pettiness, anger and righteousness pouring out of her. "Me! Not Roslin, not you, not Avos, me. I kept us together for almost a year. Yes, I fell apart, I shattered, and you barely did more than lift a finger to help me. And also, I was the one who tried the hardest to ensure Roslin left the miserable place we called a home! I was the who tried to bring Shirei North and almost succeeded. So, don't you dare even think of saying I don't care. I do. I always did."
She turned her back to him. The longer she looked at him, the more she wanted to scream or cry. The more she felt like the continuing swell of emotion in her chest would burst out of her and unleash itself on the world around her. Olyvar felt so foreign to her now – she could scarcely remember their time back at the Twins, before the war. When the world still made sense, and they were as close as anything.
"You're right," Olyvar said finally from behind her. "I didn't try as hard as I should have to reach you. I don't know why I didn't. Maybe because—maybe because of Avos. Of what I promised. I think it was easier—"
"Stop, Olyvar," she interrupted. "I can't listen to this. Not today. Not anymore."
"You have to let him go, Avariella," Olyvar said, all of the anger drained out of his voice. "Like me, Roslin and Shirei did. You need to let go of your bitterness or else it will consume you."
Avariella remained silent.
"Did you know?" Olyvar prompted, moving closer to her. "Did you know it was the King who asked Father to let Max come North? He is a good man, with a good family. And I think you know this. I think now it is why you grew closer to the Queen. Why you invited her to that meeting today. You know that by growing close to her – whether you care truly for her or not – that she will be more likely to put in a good word for you."
"And?" Avariella said, turning to look at him. "Why am I a villain for that?"
She glanced down at the ground, something tugging in her gut. "Sometimes I think that when Avos died, he took all of my good with him. That everything that was decent about me, pure, just snuffed out like candlelight when he left this life. But I'm not a villain for this, Olyvar."
She swiped at her eyes.
"He wasn't all of your good," her brother told her quietly. "He wasn't."
Avariella sniffled loudly.
"He was," she whispered. "Look at what we both turned into without the other."
"Ava," Olyvar said, gently touching her chin, for he had now moved close enough to do so. The use of her childhood nickname made her heart squeeze in her chest. "He wasn't all of your good," he repeated. "You have so much love left to give. So much. You didn't lose it all when he died, I've seen it."
"Do you mean that?" she asked quietly, her throat raw and aching.
"Yes," he replied. There was a pause. "You should try showing that to the King, or the Queen—'
Avariella stepped back from him.
"By the Gods," she swore, shaking her head.
"Avariella, I mean it, this is good for you—" he stopped, taking in the tightness of her jaw, the way her hands had curled into fists at her sides. "You already have, haven't you?" he whispered.
Avariella looked away, started to shake her head furiously.
"No," she kept on saying. "No."
"The King! And perhaps the Queen too, you have felt something for both of them, this is good—"
Avariella scoffed loudly. "The Queen is selfish," she snapped. "And not very good at her chosen profession. That is no fault of mine."
"Perhaps that is true," Olyvar said. "But the King— Avariella, this is an important step moving forward—"
It was too much, too fast and too soon.
"Get out," she said softly. Olyvar continued his rambling. "Get out," she repeated more forcefully.
"Avariella—"
"Out!" she shrieked finally, gesturing towards the entrance of the tent. "Out! Enough! I don't wish to hear it."
She kept on shaking her head furiously.
"I don't forgive him," she said. "No—no! Out—"
Olyvar finally seemed to comprehend the gravity of her desperation, and left, but not before shooting her one last look over his shoulder.
Avariella slept little that night. She lay in her cot for hours on end, staring at the top of the tent, Max curled up beside her. He was watching her, her faithful friend, guarding her to make sure she was okay. It softened some of the turmoil inside her to see it.
Eventually, she managed to fall into a fitful sleep that was plagued with night terrors. Avos – Avos – Avos – the King standing over him—
"My lady."
Avariella's eyes fluttered open rapidly—
"Ah!"
Max woke with a sudden growl, baring his teeth at—
"Lady Dacey," Avariella gasped. She reached out to pet the top of Max's head. "What are—" she took a deep breath, tried to calm the beat of her heart. "Is all well?"
Lady Dacey appeared to be mildly uncomfortable by her appearance in Avariella's tent at such an hour. She looked sparingly at Avariella, as if to grant her some more privacy.
"Forgive me, my lady," she said gravely. "For the Queen sent me."
Avariella stiffened.
"I see," she commented. 'Why?"
The muscles in Lady Dacey's jawline strained visibly.
"It would seem," she sniffed. "That the Queen has lost a blanket the both of you were working on."
Avariella's eyes immediately latched onto said object. She had fallen asleep clutching onto it.
"She was wondering if perhaps you had possession of it."
"Ah," Avariella murmured, swiping at the side of her mouth in case there was any drool. Something hard and bitter settled in her stomach. "I see."
"I am in possession of it," she murmured finally.
Lady Dacey's back straightened.
"Very well," the warrior acknowledged, though she still appeared rather awkward handling such a matter. "Will you come with me to the Queen?"
Instantly, Avariella's head began to throb.
"I. . . fine," she gritted out. "I will need a moment to make myself appropriate."
"Of course," Lady Dacey said, bowing slightly. "I will leave you to it."
Max whined when she climbed out of her cot. She ignored him, too much in a foul mood to have tolerance for his complaints. Damn her, she thought, shoving on her clothes before she furiously began to brush her hair. Damn them all.
Once she had finished, she plucked the small blanket from between her sheets and held onto it tightly. Somehow, the feeling of the fabric made both her head pound more and her anger grow.
"Come on," she said to Max.
He obeyed her silently, sensing her fury.
Her and Lady Dacey walked to the King and Queen's tent with only silence between them. The elder woman seemed to prefer it that way, and, truth be told, so did Avariella. The cold air only served to make her headache more pronounced. The ground beneath them was muddy due to the melted snow.
Gods be good, she thought again. Her anger seemed to direct itself at every single thing around her – the ground, the colour, the air, the sky. It was all dull, dark colours and mud and if she could, she would have run all the way back to the Twins; to sunshine and light, to Roslin and Shirei.
"Your grace?" Lady Dacey called from outside.
Avariella had hardly realized they had already arrived. Max barked lightly in her direction before bounding off in the direction of Winterfell, no doubt to find food or relieve himself.
Lady Dacey stepped aside, and shot her a long, warning look. Mayhaps her anger had shown on her face. Avariella wondered briefly how she looked like. Her forehead was no doubt creased from her frowning; her jaw felt almost unbearably tight. She sighed loudly and pushed past the flaps.
The Queen's bed was in disarray. Even some of her drawers had been pulled open. Avariella watched her pace a little, and suddenly all of her anger slipped away, was replaced by a cool indifference that somehow felt heavier, like she had aged a thousand years.
"You sent for me, your grace."
The Queen jumped a little. She turned to Avariella, smiling slightly, though her expression was still a little panicked. She was dressed in numerous furs, dwarfing her already thin frame.
"Yes," the other woman said. She gestured around the room. "I know I forgot to give Lilly her blanket yesterday because I was preoccupied, and I tried to search for it this morn, but I cannot find it. I was hoping you knew where it was."
Avariella felt her stomach clench dangerously.
"I do," she replied, and opened her fist to reveal said object in her hand.
The Queen's expression rose.
"Lovely," the Queen said. "We shall give it to her at once—"
"I'm afraid that is quite impossible, your grace," Avariella cut in.
"Impossible? How so?"
Avariella had to swallow back a sigh.
"It would seem, your grace, that in your hurry to assist the lightly injured soldiers before the meeting with the Tyrell envoys, you grabbed the wrong sort of cloth to treat them."
The Queen paled slightly.
"No," the dark haired woman murmured. "No, tell me I didn't."
"You did," Avariella replied evenly. She extended out her hand, watched as the Queen tugged it from her grasp. The other woman looked down at the cloth in her hands, so Avariella could not see her expression.
"I will have to explain to Lyra what has occurred," Avariella continued. "I am sure her and Lilly will understand, your grace." The words tasted like bile.
The Queen said nothing for what felt like centuries, and so Avariella moved for the entrance.
"Good day, your grace."
"Lady Avariella, wait."
Avariella froze in her steps, turned stiffly to look at her.
"I didn't-" the Queen shook her head. "I didn't mean to. I swear it—"
"I must go, your grace," Avariella cut in. She left before the other woman could say anything.
Avariella almost stumbled once the flaps closed behind her. Gods, she thought, pressing a hand to her forehead.
"Lady Frey."
"Lady Dacey," Avariella said, glancing at the woman. Lady Dacey was frowning as she stared at her.
"Are you well?"
Avariella stared at her. Yes. No. I don't know anymore. I don't know anything anymore.
"Quite," she responded, nodding.
Lady Dacey returned it, and Avariella walked away, knowing the conversation had ended.
As Avariella walked to meet Lady Catelyn, numbness settled into her bones. Gods, she kept thinking. Gods. She was astounded by the Queen's audacity, her confusion, her desperation. How can she willingly become a Queen, she pondered, and yet be so astounded by the responsibilities it entails?
And yet she was also cross with herself for being angry, for being defeated, for still being affected by her argument with Olyvar the night before.
"Lady Ava!"
Max whined at the sound of Lilly's voice. No, she thought, closing her eyes. Gods no. Not now.
The girl was unable to sense Avariella's apprehension. Dear Gods above.
"Hello," Avariella murmured, her heart dropping to the depths of her stomach.
"Are you well, Lady Ava?" Lilly asked, smiling.
"Quite," she responded, forcing a smile to her lips. How am I going to tell her – how am I going to –
She felt her heart flutter when she thought of seeing Lyra, of having to look her in the eye and explain how she trusted the Queen, the woman who had been so involved in her husband's death, who she was still grieving over—
"I must go," she blurted out, walking away abruptly. "Max," she called out over her shoulder, when he had begun to linger.
"I will see you at a later time, Lilly," she added, once guilt swelled in her stomach.
Coward.
By the time Avariella met with Lady Catelyn, she felt unbearably tired and frazzled. She could scarcely believe it had only been since yesterday when she last saw the woman.
"Good morning, Lady Frey," Lady Catelyn said.
Avariella resisted the urge to jump.
"Good morning," she returned, trying to keep the tiredness out of her voice. She slid onto her chair, made sure to keep her eyes on the ground.
"Did you sleep well, my lady?"
Avariella's mind flashed to her argument with Olyvar.
"Yes," she replied, opening her ledger. "Quite."
Silence lingered for a few moments.
"Have you thought longer about the proposition I made with the Glass Gardens?"
Avariella stared at her, almost gaping.
"I. . . I cannot say that I have, my lady," she replied truthfully.
Lady Catelyn raised an eyebrow at her.
"It's been a distracting few days," Avariella finished.
Lady Catelyn's gaze appeared sympathetic.
"Yes," she agreed. "I suppose it has."
Avariella remembered the look in the Lady's eyes from the day before, after the men from the Reach had returned to White Harbour. Something flared under her skin.
"I would not have suggested you for the job if I did not think you were capable," Lady Catelyn said.
"Thank you for the confidence, my lady," Avariella said. But this isn't my job. This is the Queen's.
As if reading her mind, Lady Catelyn smiled ruefully.
"Her grace has taken some time to adjust to her position," Lady Stark murmured carefully, setting down her quill.
Avariella bit on the inside of her cheek so hard she felt something metallic fill her mouth.
"She has different priorities, my lady," Avariella replied. "You mentioned it yourself to me yesterday."
But Lady Catelyn did not seem entirely happy or triumphant with her words. If anything, she seemed a little disappointed, though with whom she was not sure.
"Rickon has taken Osha's disappearance rather hard," Lady Catelyn settled on.
Dear Gods, Avariella thought, her back straightening. I almost forgot.
She could not begin to find the words. She could not help but recall the scene she had stumbled on in the Godswood yesterday. Rickon's cries, the King's expression. A dull ache began to form in her head.
"I can't begin to imagine, my lady."
"He will be sheltered for the next few days," Lady Catelyn murmured. "Very sheltered."
Avariella wanted to say something but did not know what. What could she say? What role did she have in the Stark family to be able to intervene? To make anything better?
She thought of Lady Catelyn's proposition with the Glass Gardens, of her words yesterday, and felt even more confused and weighed down.
"Let's get to work," Lady Catelyn said.
But Avariella felt miles and miles away, incapable of connection.
All she wanted to do was rest.
When she had finished with her day, head aching and mind numb, she almost groaned when she saw Lady Dacey waiting outside her tent.
She almost ran in the other direction.
What in the seven hells?
She gestured for Max run off, followed him with her eyes as he ran off into her tent, sneaking past Lady Dacey.
"My lady," she greeted, not even trying to hide her bewilderment.
"Lady Frey," the tall woman returned. "The Queen would like to see you."
"Oh," Avariella uttered. "Very well."
It's not as though this day could get any work – avoiding Lily and Lyra, the Queen, Olyvar, Rickon, the King, Lady Catelyn – everyone. Everything.
Lady Dacey nodded and led the way. Avariella almost dragged her feet along.
When they eventually arrived, Avariella sighed heavily, uncaring that Lady Dacey heard her. Mayhaps I should just be wed, she thought. And leave this place.
She pushed open the tent flaps, saw the Queen pacing by her bed.
"You sent for me, your grace," she said.
The Queen stopped in her steps, turned to look at her.
"I am sorry," the Queen blurted out, forgoing any greeting. "For Lilly. What I did, it was thoughtless. I am sorry."
Avariella looked into her desperate eyes and felt nothing.
"Alright," she said. "Thank you, your grace."
The Queen appeared hurt by her response.
"Is that all?" the Queen said. "What else is there that I can do?"
Avariella stared at her.
"Forgive me your grace but I know not what you mean."
"Should I apologize to them, my lady? To Lady Catelyn? For following my instincts and rushing to those soldiers aid?"
"I know not what you wish me to say," Avariella answered honestly.
The Queen seemed to retreat into herself and it was in that instant that Avariella understood.
"Leaders be what their people need them to be, not what they personally desire," Avariella said, before the Queen could respond.
The Queen stared at her.
"You sound like Lady Catelyn."
It almost sounded like an accusation, and the tone made anger spark in her spine.
"And?" she questioned, an edge in her voice. "Is that a problem, your grace?"
Avariella was treading on dangerous ground. She had never sounded so scornful towards the Starks – first meeting with the King in the Twins' Great Hall aside. No matter how she felt, the other woman was a Queen. She had to remember that. Avariella bit down on her lip, tried to swallow down her anger.
"You believe her," the Queen said. "She has gotten to you—"
"Gotten—"
Avariella's mouth twisted bitterly. She tried not to glare when she met the Queen's gaze. The other woman appeared oddly taken aback, as though she no longer recognized who Avariella was. As though they were friends. The hypocrisy and ridiculousness of it almost made her scowl.
"I know not what is between you and Lady Catelyn," Avariella interrupted. "Nor is it any of my business."
The Queen paused, seemed to contemplate her words, her actions.
"Stop that," she said suddenly to Avariella.
"Stop what, your grace?"
"That." She gestured at Avariella. "Speak freely, you always have before."
No I haven't, she wished to say. I really haven't.
"There's nothing to say, your grace—"
"Enough. You are obviously upset with me—"
"Your grace—"
"If you would just tell me why—"
"Why?" Avariella questioned incredulously. "Your grace, you made two commitments to me, and failed to honor them both."
"I apologized for Lilly," the Queen interrupted. "I did, that was important—"
"Attending meetings that will establish important trade routes with valuable allies is important, your grace—"
"This is what you were raised to do, your purpose, what you've asked for—"
"I never asked for this!" Avariella gritted out, frustrated. "Maybe when I was a silly girl with dreams of escaping the Twins, I wished to find a new life, but I did not wish to come here. I have done the best with what I have been given."
She shook her head furiously.
"You—you haven't tried."
The Queen took a step back, as if the force of her words propelled her to do so.
"You chose this, your grace," Avariella stated plainly. "This wasn't forced on you."
The Queen flinched.
"I know," she whispered, as if she were trying to convince herself of the fact. "I know."
"Do you?" Avariella asked, unable to help herself. "Do you really, your grace?"
She bit her lip, wondered briefly if she had stepped too far. The Queen was swaying slightly as she stood.
"I should leave," she said quietly. The Queen did not respond. "Good day to you, your grace."
Avariella wondered for a time afterwards if she had overstepped herself. Once more she found herself cursing her loose tongue, her outspokenness. At the Twins, no one had cared. But here, so far from home –
She thought herself better than this. Every time she was let down or betrayed or hurt by one of these blasted people she always swore she knew better, that she would not fall for it again and yet she somehow always did.
Rest, she decided. I need rest.
Avariella only managed to tell Lyra that she was still working on it. It was a lie, to a degree. She was working on something to replicate it in the following days, after she had fallen asleep that first day.
She couldn't yet bare to tell Lyra the truth. She should. She knew she should have. But the Queen had the blanket and she'd trusted her with it, all for naught. She was a coward. She had been acting like a coward.
She spent the next four nights working with new fabric, pricking her fingers often enough that she bled.
She didn't see Olyvar, she couldn't see him.
When she walked down the hall to meet with Lady Catelyn on the fifth day, she was surprised to see the shadowy figure of Maester Bryal near the other end of the hall, with a smaller figure beside him.
"Lord Rickon, please—"
"It's your fault!" the boy yelled. "Osha is gone because of you! You made her leave—"
Avariella hurried her way down the hall, picking up her skirts to make it easier.
"What is the meaning of this?" she called out.
Maester Bryal turned around to stare at her, his expression tired and frustrated.
"Maester," she said. "What is happening?"
Her gaze caught on his grip on Rickon's arm. She had not seen Rickon since the Godswood. She could see the dark circles under his eyes, how they were red rimmed due to his tears. Lady Catelyn had not been exaggerating when she'd said Rickon would be sheltered, that he was upset.
"Prince Rickon has run off yet again from his lessons," Maester Bryal responded.
"He made Osha leave!" Rickon shrieked, trying to shake off Maester Bryal's grip.
Avariella moved to grasp onto Rickon's other arm.
"Rickon," she said, trying to calm him down, her heart in her throat. "It's alright, please, calm down—"
"Osha is gone because of him! I want her back!"
"I know," Avariella said, motioning for the Maester to let go. "I'm sorry she left, Rickon. I am."
"Bran is gone," he said tearfully. "Osha is gone – Hodor is gone! Father is gone—"
"I know Rickon," she said. "I'm so sorry, Rickon. I'm sorry."
She drew him into her arms, held onto him tightly.
"It's alright," she murmured. "Cry if you need to."
She didn't know when Maester Bryal left, but she did hear when Lady Catelyn came.
"Lady Frey," the elder woman said. "Rickon."
She let go of the boy instantly, watched as he fled into his mother's arms. But it was not just Lady Catelyn; it was the King as well, hovering in the background.
Gods, she thought. Gods.
"Come, Lady Frey," the King said. "We have much to discuss."
It took a few moments for them to shuffle into the room. Rickon was curled on Lady Catelyn's lap, his head buried in her shoulder. Avariella realized after a few seconds that he had fallen asleep.
"This arrangement is not working," Lady Catelyn said, staring at Maester Bryal. "You said he was getting better."
Maester Bryal flinched a little.
"It appeared as though he was, my lady," he stated. "But then today he just. . . he just was not co-operating."
"He continues to blame you for Osha," the King stated, his face grave.
"Indeed," Maester Bryal responded. "He continues to run away – to scream and cry."
"We understand," Lady Catelyn stated. "If you would, Maester Bryal."
The Maester opened his mouth, then closed it, before bowing and leaving the room.
Avariella watched Rickon to see if he woke when the door slammed shut. He did not even stir. Poor boy, she thought. He is suffering more than anyone.
"He needs to be with someone he trusts," Lady Catelyn murmured. "He's been too destabilized over the past two years – Ned and Bran and—"
"I know," the King said, wiping a hand over his face. "I know, Mother, I know."
"And we're both going to be busy over the next two months with—" Lady Catelyn cut herself off. "The only things we have remaining is the work with the Great Keep and the Glass Gardens."
"Yes," the King murmured. Avariella watched him closely, saw him frown deeply. "Mother, if you were to share responsibility of Rickon's lessons while you assist me with the plans for the Great Keep, that would assist you, correct?"
"Yes," Lady Catelyn said, balancing Rickon on her lap. "But who could help with Rickon—"
She stopped, seemed to realize something from her son's expression.
"Lady Frey," the King said, catching her attention. "Would you do it?"
"I. . . I'm not sure I understand what you mean, your grace," she said, undeniably bewildered.
"Rickon," the King clarified, glancing at his brother. She saw his gaze soften. "Will you help him? I know you are not a Maester, but you possess knowledge of Westeros, have had an education fit for a Lady. You can help him, for the next two months. You can help my mother with him, as you work on the Glass Gardens, and she assists me with some vital plans for the Great Keep."
"It's a big responsibility," Lady Catelyn said, petting her sleeping son's auburn curls. "And we know it must be more than you expected when coming to Winterfell, but he has taken a liking to you, and we would be forever in your debt."
The Starks? In my debt? Lady Barbrey would be delighted by my success.
But the thought fell hollow. Her gaze instead fell to Rickon, who looked so like her brother, who was so lost, who she felt so much for already.
"I'll do it," she said. "Of course I will."
"Thank you," the King said, nodding. He suddenly appeared restless to her, as if the room were to small, like it was suffocating him.
"I will leave you two to sort out the details," he said, pausing to press a hand to his brother's head before he left the room.
"I thank you as well," Lady Catelyn murmured. "It's been hard for all of us during this period, to try and make this place into a home after the Greyjoy's burned it to the ground."
"Of course, my lady," Avariella said.
"My son and I want to make Winterfell into a home again," she told her. "We want to rid this castle of its ghosts and make it a place of happiness once again. Is that something you can understand?"
"Yes, my lady," Avariella replied, feeling oddly vulnerable. "I can understand that."
I just don't know if it's possible.
"I need some time with him," Lady Catelyn said. "Please, do as you like for the day."
Avariella stood from her chair.
"My lady," she said, before she left the room.
Avariella found herself walking in the Godswood as she somehow always did. She needed air. She needed solitude. Her tent was growing to be too claustrophobic. She sat underneath the heart tree and listened to the birds, felt the wind caress her cheeks.
What had she gotten herself into?
She truly had no idea. She really did not.
"May I sit with you?"
Avariella gasped loudly.
"Gods be good!" she swore, staring up at the Queen. "Your grace," she said, once she had calmed down. "Forgive me, I was startled."
"I'm sorry for scaring you," the Queen replied, before gesturing to the ground. "May I?"
"Of course," Avariella replied, observing her carefully. She hadn't seen her in days. The Queen was holding something – she could not quite tell what it was.
"I just finished having a conversation with my husband," the Queen said, almost conversationally. "I learned of what you agreed to."
Is that a problem? She wanted to ask but held her tongue.
"I brought this for you," the Queen said, holding out her hand. "I know it's not much, but I wanted to fix my mistake."
Avariella accepted the blanket and almost gasped yet again when she recognized the fabric and pattern. It was Lilly's blanket.
"I couldn't get the stain out of the one I ruined," the Queen told her. "But I could salvage some of the original material. It won't change what happened, but I hope it offers some semblance of consolation when you give it to her."
It took her a moment to find her voice.
"Thank you, your grace," she said, clutching tightly onto the fabric.
"It was the least I can do," the Queen replied. "I thought I owed you an explanation, especially after what I've heard today."
"An explanation as to what, your grace?" she could not help but ask.
"If it is alright with you," the Queen began. "I would like to join you and Rickon during your lessons."
Avariella had not even begun to think about these so-called lessons, let alone the Queen joining them.
"I need to take some initiative," the Queen said softly. "I need to learn about this country that I have chosen to join; that I chose to rule over. I need to learn to be the person my people need, and to do that I need to know of them. Maester Bryal does. . . does not approve of me."
"I don't know what you wish me to say, your grace," Avariella said.
"Nothing," the Queen said, shaking her head. "It's not your job to soothe me or my feelings. I need to salvage this mess I have dug for myself and perhaps earn the respect of my husband's family, and my people. And maybe then I can justify why my husband married me."
"I blamed him, you know" the Queen whispered. Tears caught on her dark lashes. "I told him it was his fault we lost our babe—our own Ned. That I would never forgive him." The woman sighed softly, stared down at her lap. "That is why Lady Catelyn hates me so. For the fact that not only did I agree to marry her son when he was betrothed to another, but that I blamed him for all of my suffering – that I have not forsaken my career in order to be a dutiful wife."
A small chuckle escaped her lips.
"You were right," the other woman choked out, swiping at her eyes. "You were right. I did choose this, and the worst part was that I did not even think of what that meant. I only thought of my love, my selfish, consuming love."
Avariella watched her. She had never been in love with anyone before, but even she knew that love shouldn't be considered selfish.
"The King chose you too, your grace," Avariella murmured, unable to stop herself.
"Maybe," the Queen allowed, then paused. "Yes, you are quite right. But he hasn't blamed me for anything. He has loved me, and been patient with me, and has focused on being a good King to his people."
The Queen glanced up at the sky, inhaled, then exhaled deeply, as if she were trying to get the weight of the world off her shoulders.
"I want to prove myself," the Queen murmured. "I want to try."
Avariella opened her mouth, then closed it.
"I know I've said so before," the Queen continued, her hands fidgeting nervously. "But I mean it. This is a small step, perhaps, but it is a step nonetheless."
She seemed sincere, was the thing. Avariella waited for the rush of distrust and disdain to wash over her, but it never did. Instead, only a faint sting of her past humiliation and disappointment coiled in her gut.
"How. . ." she trailed off, voice faint. She cursed herself for her indecision –
"How can you believe me?" the Queen prompted. She chuckled breathily, before her face grew serious once more. "Because," she said, eyeing the ground. "Because you're perhaps the only friend I have here, and I don't want to lose that."
Avariella knew not what to say. She thought of Roslin and Shirei, even Arra, the women she had been closest to all her life. But the first were her sisters and Arra her servant—Gods, she had not even truly thought about Arra, about the loss of their relationship, in a long time. Avariella had never had a true friendship with another woman of her station – had barely been exposed to any at all, truth be told. But this was a Queen, not just any noblewoman, she thought to herself. This was a Stark.
And yet, Avariella did feel for her. She could not quite bring herself to believe her, and yet she did not hate her, and somehow that latter fact felt irreversible. Avariella expected self-hatred to swell in her gut, but she only felt numb. Tired.
"I will leave you," the Queen said, rising. A leaf fell from her lap.
Avariella was startled by how strong, yet delicate her gaze was. There seemed to be a hint of that quiet strength Avariella had sensed in the woman during their previous time together, when she had spoken of her life in Volantis, of her work. She knew not how to respond when she was the cause for it.
"Have a good afternoon, Lady Frey," the Queen murmured, nodding her head. A small smile formed in her lips, and then she followed the trail out of the Godswood. Avariella waited until the sound of her footfalls disappeared before she exhaled loudly.
"Avos," she whispered. "Help me."
Lady Barbrey would advise her to hold onto her rage, her hatred. To keep up her defenses and not let the enemy win. She would remind Avariella of the Stark's faults and hypocrisy and she could carry on hating them as strongly as she had before.
Avariella leaned forward, picked up the leaf that had fallen from the Queen's lap. She tried to imagine returning to such a state. She closed her eyes. There was still anger there. She did not trust Lady Catelyn, or the Blackfish – certainly not the King either. Not even Talisa Stark. There was so much there, still unforgiven and hurtful.
But Avariella had seen the Queen weep – had seen her at her most vulnerable and fragile. She had seen the flash of grief in Lady Catelyn's eyes when she spoke of Bran Stark and her husband, the sorrow in her gaze when she stared at her youngest son. Lady Catelyn – however uninvited in her attempts – had tried to guide Avariella, had even shown faith in her, by allowing her youngest son to spend time in her presence.
It was a lot harder, Avariella decided, to hate someone when you finally got to know them.
Even the King—
She winced. That was a reality still too painful to bare, too confusing to comprehend. Forgiving him in her mind still meant forgetting Avos and she had no idea how to separate the two, or even if she wanted to do so. Perhaps she did not loathe him blindly as she once did, but the tenderness that had grown in her heart for his brother and his people, did not mean she wanted to like him at all, no matter what Olyvar might suggest.
But did that mean she had to forsake her life in Winterfell? The one that she built for herself? Did that mean she could not learn more here, before she became yet another Winter bride at some grey castle further North?
Avariella frowned. The wind picked up for a brief moment, the cold air made her cheeks redden. She had no answers.
Distantly, she heard the sound of a child's laughter. Lilly, she thought, though she had no way of knowing. She stood up wobbly, taking a moment to regain the feeling in her legs before continuing out of the Godswood with Max by her side.
Surely enough, it was Lilly. Avariella found her standing by the gate that lead into the Godswood.
"Hello," Avariella greeted, a smile gracing her lips at the sight of her young friend.
"Lady Ava!" Lilly beamed.
"What are you doing here, Lilly?" she asked gently, watching as Max bounded over to the girl, his tail wagging excitedly.
"Mother said she saw you coming here," Lilly replied, petting Max enthusiastically. "I wanted to see if you were alright." Her cheeks reddened by the end of it, as though she were embarrassed.
Avariella stared at her for a moment, feeling oddly close to tears. She felt oddly exposed, as though Lilly had stripped her bare for the world to see.
"Thank you," she said, her voice breaking slightly. She cleared her throat. "Thank you," she repeated.
Lilly stared at her a moment.
"Are you alright?" the young girl questioned; her voice small.
It took Avariella a moment to respond.
"Yes," she replied, finding oddly enough that it was the truth. "Yes, I think I am."
Lilly smiled wildly. Avariella let her lead her away from the Godswood, half-listening, half-thinking.
Avariella surveyed the grounds of Winterfell. The men hammering on the stone, the women carrying baskets of linen and food. She saw so much work that still had to be done, and simultaneously all that they had achieved and rebuilt already. She saw tiredness and grief and heard laughter in the same breath.
We endure, Old Nan had said.
Avariella's eyes flickered across the courtyard, caught sight of the King far away with his beast on one side and what appeared to be Rickon on the other. She stared at them for a long moment. Maybe, she conceded, maybe Lady Catelyn was right.
Maybe Winterfell could be rid of its ghosts. Maybe it could become a place of happiness and stability once again. Before, the idea had seemed impossible.
Now, in this moment, though she did not know how long it would last, a part of her believed it, and somehow that just enough to ease some of the turmoil in her heart, bringing her as close to peace as she had been in over a year.
"Lilly," she said suddenly. "Look at what I have for you."