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Chapter Four: The Hidden Space
In the Twins, although it didn't look like it, there were many places to hide. And being one of the most disliked of the Frey children, I knew exactly where each and every one of them were.
"I feel like shit," my brother gurgled, staring glassily out at the river from our bench. "And it tastes like someone pissed in my mouth."
"Hard to believe," I said, my words laced with heavy disdain.
"Don't be jealous."
"Yes. I'm jealous of all the girls that get drunk and fall on their asses. Woe is me."
Corlin winced, pressing a finger to his lips as a ray of sunshine hit a particularly reflective surface and lit our small little niche. When we were small, we had found this place, a forgotten area of the garden. It was a tiny alcove that had been carved into the walls that bordered our own tower. Since the Twins were relatively water bound, the garden itself was shabby at best and rather depressing to look upon. Few Freys had ever tread upon it's pebbled paths.
There are few beauties to be held inside this crooked place, I mused, my nose twitching as I took in the gnarled vines that hid the entrance to their secret spot. It was hardly inhabitable with just a single bench and a sudden dip that would lead to the waters below. The path that wound back to the actual garden was eaten away with vegetation that seemed almost carnivorous in nature and was trim enough that both sibling had to press against the Twin's walls to make it.
But it was a place that was our own and as of the past day or so, I was becoming increasingly more aware of the walls caving in around me. It was all in thier eyes - they could see that the Wolf had taken an interest in me. And that was what truly terrified me. For eighteen years, I had lived in these walls - with few prospects and even fewer changes. Now life was barreling toward me and no matter how many corners I ducked around or how quickly I ran, it was always there, baring down on my heels like an insatiable beast there to devour who I was.
"He stared at you quite a bit," Corlin suddenly murmured, sending a sidelong glance to me as I gave a sniff, face flaming.
"He can stare at the rump of a cow for all I care," I hissed, a sudden, irrational fury burning through my veins. It was all her sisters would speak of. Even when I had gone back to my chambers, I could hear their incessant babble through the doors. Derwa - the vile witch - standing tall at the head of those gossiping snakes.
"You protest too much," my brother murmured, his eyes softening in the glow of the rising sun. "Starks keep their word. You know the reason they started this war-"
"Honor," I spat out viciously, turning a disgusted glare to my brother. "It is why all the men fight. It is why he took our Twins and marched across it with all his men and bloody banners. I know why he fights. Only a man sick with greed would give his heart in return for a pile of rocks and rubble."
There was a long silence, one that was filled with the rush of my blood and the wild cadence of my breath. I hated him. For reasons that were unfair to the man that I had seen last night with his quiet power and his clipped words, I despised him with every beat of my heart. Softly, the wind from our lake whipped across the cold stones of the Twins, sweeping my hair back as errant waves tried to beat at our walls. I despised him because in him I saw something that I didn't understand.
"You would do well to learn the mind of your husband," my brother finally sighed, rising to slip past me as I gasped.
"I will not marry him!" I cried petulantly, watching as he reached the vines. From my seat, I thought I saw the telling tilt of his lips as he smirked.
"For his sake, I hope that he won't try to tangle with you either, my dear sister," he chuckled before slipping away at my cry of indignation.
It was absolutely absurd and a bit insulting to have my actions scrutinized so thoroughly. And that vile wolf with his constant, penetrating gaze. A shiver jolted up my spine, an odd sort of fluttering starting in my stomach as I thought of the rough cut of his jaw and the way that his curls brushed along his temple.
"Utter tripe," I hissed, standing abruptly. As the feast went on below yesterday night, my maids had snuck their way into my room and replaced my simple dresses with the useless articles that my father had begun to throw at me. Like little nymph in the night, they had spirited away my best dresses and left me with horrid scraps with too much embroidery and too little error for dirt and dust. With these dresses, I had to wear slippers instead of boots and tiptoe around messes like I was rehearsing to dance for the King himself.
The one that they had stuffed me into today was a golden monstrosity with a sweeping skirt that dragged in the back and swooped lowly to cradle my shoulders and shove my cleavage to a ridiculous degree. I could neither bend over nor twist for fear of becoming exposed. It was utterly ludicrous.
In the South they could bear with this type of unclothed approach but here, where the winds blew harsh and the winters crouched like trees slowly rooting to the soil, it was near deadly to carry on in such outfits.
It was lucky they gave me a shaw, I thought bitterly as I pulled the thick gold and red cloth more tightly around me.
"Lady Frey."
Something deep inside me coiled back in terror as I froze, hands fisted in my voluminous skirts to try and lift them away so that my foot might find a foothold in the uneven pebble walkway. I could not be this unlucky.
Standing only a few paces away was the most devilishly handsome man that I had ever beheld. The morning light lit his curls to a dashing garnet fire, stubble apparent from a night without a good shave. Even then, his jaw was strong and his features sharp.
He was utterly striking. And I utterly hated him for it.
"Lady Stark." His lips tipped up in quiet amusement, his eyes cutting as they skated over my rather exposed chest.
"I heard you," I snapped without thinking, straightening before I paused. He was the King. And by his raised brows and the way his head had tipped slightly to the side, snapping wasn't a word used to describe anyone who ever was to address him. Stiffly, I curtsied, turning my gaze to the ill-kept grounds. "My King…" I finished awkwardly.
"You are a rather strange creature." My gaze whipped to meet his, my mouth twisting open in a gasp which only seemed to amuse him more as his teeth flashed in a mischievous grin, the arrogant ass. Briefly, his eyes flicked around the ragged garden with it's splatter of weeds and it's rotting flowers. "A rather strange creature in a rather strange garden."
Unwanted, my temper flared even higher, scorching my cheeks as I took a breath, clasping my hands before me. It was obvious what he thought of this particular plot of land and strange was a rather gentle way to phrase it. My pride pricked, souring my mood further as I turned a glare to an offending vine near my shoes. "I don't like to garden," I clipped out tersely watching as he turned his gaze back to me.
"Surely there are others to tend to it." It was more of a gentle inquiry than a statement and I glanced around once more. I hadn't ever thought to garden, in all honesty. There were few things of beauty in these horrid walls and - I winced, trying not to think of all the little girls and boys that had once roamed the desolate streets of the Twins. Now they were no more, all sold away to merchants that needed able maids and squires. Everything beautiful here died. There was no room for something that needed such care and tenderness as flowers and trees.
"A garden has no place in the Twins," I finally said, grabbing up my composer like a suit of armor to shield myself from the unsettling thoughts.
His eyes seemed to grow somber at the comment, his brows dipping into that intimidating expression. His next words were quiet. "What does have it's place at the Twins, My Lady?"
My cheeks stung, a sudden chill making me shiver. Something hardened in my head, the words turning to rocks as they reached my ears. The question, spoken so softly made me twitch in discomfort, my shoulders stiffening as I stared at the man in front of me. The way he spoke, the strong undertone of authority even when he was questioning, seemed to dig beneath my very roots. Just like that Robb Stark, the Young Wolf of the North, the King with his Bloody Banners, had separated me from my home of eighteen years. You certainly do not belong here, his eyes seemed to say.
"Have you loved before, My King?" The words blurted from my lips, spilling over suddenly and with such force that I took a step nearer to him. My brows creased as his eyes widened and then seemed to shutter like blinds clicking shut.
"Do you care for my history, Lady Frey? Would you like to know where my heart has wandered?" The words were said with gentle prodding, his eyes critical as I stuttered, blushing.
"I could not care in the least," I snapped back.
"Then why do you ask?"
Well, that was a rather obvious course of attack. There were no words that I could give for I did care. Perhaps too much. Instead I settled back, glaring in boiling silence at him as he looked over me in amused silence.
"Was it bravery that won you the war or arrogance?" I finally seethed, huffing as he took a small step forward.
Standing so close, it was painfully obvious how much taller he was. Even though his furred cloak seemed to take up a great deal of bulk, it was clear that he was built with the brutal strength that came from war. In that moment, I knew that he could kill me in an instance. And yet… I blinked up at him, my brows creasing as I stared into those stunning ice eyes.
"A bit of both, I suppose," he murmured but those eyes held a soft sort of sadness that seemed to ache through him and grasp at me. "Do you commonly speak to your guests with such raw hostility?"
"I have not had the honor of many guests, Your Grace," I replied dully, tilting my head back even further so that I could stare more fully into his eyes. "Forgive my impudence."
"Do you hate me so?" It was spoken as if not to be answered, his brows furrowing as his face worked with puzzlement. "What is it that disgusts you so thoroughly, Lady Frey?"
Careful, my mind hissed cautiously.
"It is not my place-"
"You will answer me." The impudence, my mind roared, my jaw tightening. It was not a request. He was commanding me.
"The loyalty of my house is not enough for you, My Grace? Now I must give you my thoughts as well?" My cheeks burned with fury, my mouth tight as he tilted his head to the side, seeming to mull over his answer.
"Yes," he finally said, shrugging. "I am curious. And I will accept nothing less than your truth."
"How arrogant, Your Grace," I remarked coldly, offering a serene smile. "If you wish for my honesty I will give it to you. I have heard much of your feats. Your war has cost many a man their life and left the grounds stained with blood from North to South. You are brave-"
"An honor that you would compliment me so," he said with a smooth smile, his eyes glittering with amusement.
My smile ran cold and bitter as I stared up into his charming face. "But there is a difference between the bravery of bloodshed and the bravery of one's heart. You have mastered one and forgotten another and if there was a war on the latter, I would be sure to be the victor."
"You would fight?" His brows raised incredulously.
"Women are the only ones who can," I stated, giving him a petulant smile. "We are the only ones who know the rules."
"And if I disagreed?" he murmured
"Then I would ask you to name the woman you have given your heart to."
His gaze was pensive, a sudden tilt marring his lips for the briefest moment before he smiled again.
"And if I were to say…" he leaned in, his breath hot on the shell of my ear as his voice dropped intimately. "Willa Frey - the darling of the Twins?"
Something constricted around my heart, forcing a painful puff of air to rush out of me as I jerked back, clutching at my ear. It was an utter outrage. It was embarrassingly ridiculous. I blinked up at him, cheeks flaming as he continued to smirk.
"You are a beast, Lord Stark," I hissed, venomously to the last breath of air as a rush of steam flickered from his lips. He was laughing. My temper flared hotter. "You know nothing of the heart and I pity whichever sister you choose."
With that I turned, abruptly catching sight of the fact that the only way to exit the garden was to go around the great brute of a man. Stomping like a pettish child, I rounded on him, trying to skirt around him while not giving too much ground.
Faster than I would ever know, he caught my arm. I gasped, astounded that he had the gall to touch me like I was some wench that he had found in an inn.
His piercing eyes caught mine, his gaze serious. "I will ask for your hand tomorrow. I thought you should know."
How lovely of him to notify me, I thought bitterly.
"I - will - refuse," I snarled, every word punctuated by a sharp tug in an effort to get him to release me. But his grip was strong, his fingers like iron even though they did not bite or bruise my skin.
"You told me you wouldn't refuse me."
I stilled. We stared at each other for a long moment - his face cocky and amused; mine filled with contempt.
"Fine," I finally hissed, nearly spitting with anger. "I will not refuse you, Your Grace. Are you pleased? Do you enjoy the thought of a female having no other choice but to say yes to your sloppy advances?"
"Many women have told me that I'm quite charming," he mused, finally releasing me as I stumbled away from him mid tug. Straight, white teeth flashed as he watched me stumble. Fuming, I regained my footing and straightened.
"Many men have told me that I should dance naked in the streets to inspire the Gods to bring rain yet I do not see fit to do so," I snapped peevishly, gathering my shawl tightly around me as I tried to salvage the last scraps of my dignity.
The flash of gray suddenly caught my eyes, making me still momentarily. His direwolf had come to look after his master. A tremor of fear ran up my spine. The wolf's eyes were too alert, too straight forward as he loped over to curl around Lord Stark's legs. It was as if - far from simply following his masters emotions - he was determined to make his own conclusions about my character.
"It was a pleasure to find you this morning, Lady Frey." The deep timbre of his voice sent warmth skating up my arms, drawing all of my attention back to him. Just in time to see his eyes dip lower to the exposed skin offer by my dress. "Very lovely dress, if I may be so bold as to compliment."
A grunt was all he received in return. In my gut, I could feel the familiar twitch of rage starting once more.
"Feel free to explore the gardens, Your Grace," I said with restrained control, dipping into a deep curtsy.
"I look forward to tonight, Lady Frey," he called after as I quickly made my retreat. It took everything I had to not turn around a throttle the ass. He was finding joy in my distress.
I bit at my lip. There had to be some way to get out of this mess.
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