Chapter Fourteen: Chaos and Order
I was dreaming about Corlin when I heard the distant roar. It came from the mountains, deep within the cold expanse of the Vale where Aryn's widow sat atop her throne. How did I know that? Perhaps… Perhaps it had something to do with the fact that I knew I was dreaming. Or… Not quite dreaming but… seeing. Seeing things that seemed almost like they were really happening in my own world.
But that was where the split came - the painful, bone-crunching sensation that I wasn't supposed to be here. The sensation that I was really in a bed, withering in agony but that my mind… My mind was here.
"WHERE'S MY BLOODY MEAD?" I jumped whirling at my father's rabid howl, his knuckles white around the leather pads of his high chair. The hall was oddly desolate in the twilight of another day gone, all of my sisters forbid from entering it after the breakfast meal. Like stray animals, we had already been served our meals in our rooms or in one of the larger areas in our hallway. Father had always said our feminine tendencies would sour the meal for all the men.
"Down your gullet, you old vulture," my brother whispered contemptuously, his eyes narrowing on the slab of pork in front of him. Beside him, an array of our brother's ate their meals. The eldest were only permitted to sit at the dais with him during special occasions. Otherwise, they were seated at the long tables like unruly children ready for a lesson.
A side door burst open and a maid rushed in with another pitcher of ale. From the slowly drooping hang of my father's eyes, I could tell that this would be another in a long line of drinks for the day.
"Took you long enough, you worthless twit," he snarled like an old hound, snatching the whole thing from her.
"He's in a fine mood," I mused, sitting heavily in the unoccupied section of bench beside him. My mind rolled uneasily with the knowledge that I was seeing something no one else should. The body surely wasn't meant to travel wherever the mind wanted to go. I glance at my brother, softening at the tawny glow of his eyes. I had missed him. Missed him more than I had ever been able to think of.
"Dania's staring at you again, Cor." Just on the other side of him Daltis, one of our younger brothers, grinned mischievously. I had always thought he was a bit of a rascal - always stealing bread and cheese from the kitchens and running off to the towns for God's know what. "Give her a good time last night?"
I glanced up to see a petite, little thing standing just beside one of the kitchen doors. Her eyes were wide and kohl dusted - something unfamiliar to most maids in the Twins. Even us Frey girls never had immediate access to it. But from the way that her eyes had turned a watery red it wasn't a great mystery about whether she had stolen it or scraped some muck from the stove.
"Corlin," I murmured disapprovingly, watching as Dania gave a nervous shuffle, her eyes intent on my brother's face. In a way, I had always hated him for how callously he used girls and threw them away. But in another… I knew that he didn't know. He didn't know the power that he had over them and he had never met a person who would tell him. Not even me. "A little young, don't you suppose?"
"She's too young," Corlin murmured, startling me. I stared hard at the side of his head. Had he heard me? No. He hadn't even glanced up before he had said it. We had always been completing each other's sentences when we were in the Twins. I didn't know if it comforted me or saddened me to know that that hadn't broken from the distance. "I haven't even spoken to her since-"
His mouth snapped shut quickly, his eyes darkening. A few of his curls fell forward, tickling his temple. When he was a babe, mother had forbidden the servants from cutting it. She even went so far as to discharge one of the maids for merely suggesting it. I had never understood why - but then again I didn't think I would have ever understood anything that my mother did.
Sometimes she reminded me of our river - familiar in the way that I knew when to go to my window to catch the freshest breeze that rolled from its surface but still distant in that everchanging way. Unknowable.
"Since Willa left," Daltis finished matter of factly, swallowing down the rest of his meal with such relish that he didn't catch the venomous look flashing through my brother's eyes. I had seen it too many times growing up as his constant companion to not recognize it. "But Derwa's been doing rather well with the running of the house."
"Yes," Corlin drawled, his eyes flicking around in mock boredom. "She does rather like being able to boss everyone about. One of her many assets, I am told."
"Oh, you've always been rather cranky when it came to Derwa. All because Willa didn't like her." My lips thinned at the remark. I was sure that that feeling went both ways when it came to Derwa and I. "You need to stop clinging to her skirts like a babe."
Corlin looked on the verge of lashing out, his eyes wild with agitation. I tipped closer, watching him intently for a moment before reaching out. Was I able to touch him? Would he feel me trying to comfort him like I had when we were toddlers and still so unsure of our place in our father's house? My hand hovered over his shoulder. No. My hand withdrew back to my lap, a deep ache starting inside of me. I didn't particularly know what this was - why I was here, able to hear and see him like some kind of sick, torturous play - but I didn't want to unsettle this. I was already trespassing on something that felt oddly sacred - like a gift given by the Stranger or perhaps the all-seeing Crone.
My head whipped to stare out the arched entrance of the balcony, catching the now fading light as it glared from the water just at our borders. There it was again - that rumble like the earth was shifting and rolling beneath layers of ice and rock. It was so clear that it made my insides quiver. Come to the deep dark, it whispered to me. Let the Chaos in.
"Shut your gluttonous mouths!" I gasped, whirling back at my father's angry snarl. Wine sloshed onto the decorative mats, slopping over his untouched food like water against rocks. His lips curled back in a leer, his eyes rabid beneath the heavy droop of his lids. Already he was drunk, barely conscious enough to hold the goblet in his bony fingers.
"He's such a sloppy drunk," Corlin whispered from beside me, his face hardening into one of pure hatred. Such hatred and rage that I flinched back. I had never seen him like this. At that moment, a sliver of dread lodged in my throat. I saw something in him that was too similar to the man on the dais before us - a rabid kind of hatred that only seemed to belong to the eyes of a Frey.
"You're quite a sloppy drunk as well," Daltis murmured, cracking his neck as he leaned back in his chair. In all ways, he appeared relaxed almost languid except for that sly tilt that always seemed to light his eyes. There had been rumors when he had been born - rumors that our father had raped a thief that had tried to steal from our kitchens and kept her son as punishment since the abuse didn't seem to be enough. I swallowed, staring at his almost elfen features, sharp and playful but deadly in that mysterious way.
Those same dark eyes slid to Corlin, a sort of prodding fire in them. He wanted to get under my brother's skin. He wanted a reaction more than anything else like a child pulling at another's ears. "Couldn't even get up after your own sister's wedding night you were so tossed. Looked like a damned fool trying to run out the gates after her horse-"
"Shut your filthy trap," Corlin growled, the tips of his ears turning a vivid red as he jerked forward, his hands clenched like he was ready to bloody Daltis.
"Corlin!" I breathed, watching as his shoulders went rigid. But he had stopped mid-lunge like - like he had heard something. "Not here. Not in front of father. He's goading you, bird brain."
A moment of tense silence passed between my brothers. Daltis was still leaning back in his seat, his eyes sharp and cutting even as his lips played at a lazy smile.
"I have enough regrets for you not to remind me of them," Corlin suddenly whispered, his shoulders sagging as he slowly settled back on the bench. Beside him, Daltis softened, a look of disappointment lighting through his eyes before something else flickered across them - something gentle.
"I underestimated you, Cor," he murmured, turning his attention back to our father who was fumbling through a long-winded and rambling sermon. "Perhaps the loss of your sister has made it a bit easier to pick at you - and I do so love to pick."
A grunt was the only reply that he got.
"...Marriage to the Bolton's has finally come to be." My head whipped to stare up at my father, his goblet sway this way and that as he warbled on. Walda had been betrothed to Roose Bolton for almost a year now - a fact that our father was always overjoyed to announce whenever she was present. Such a long period of time was unheard of and whispers were beginning to go around that perhaps it wasn't because of his house that he was refusing to marry but because of his intended.
My father's brows knit as he stared off at some place in the walls above us. I glanced behind me dubiously, only to find the same worn bricks and mortar that kept our Twins together.
"Willa?" I blinked, startled at my father's rough question, turning swiftly to find him still staring off at the same spot. His eyes squeezed shut, his mouth moving in some quiet recitation. "No. No, that one was married off a bit ago. Only one of the lot to make a good match but that might have been because of that nice, little body she had - very spritely."
My stomach rolled at the words, disgust, and shame flaring hotly through me. Beside me, Corlin snarled, his face reddening as his hands tightened around the knife beside his place.
"Pig," we said at once and for a dizzying moment, I was reminded of all those moments that our words had been jumbled together. Like our thoughts were one beast running at the same pace, diverging around trees and streams but always finding its way back to that single path.
"Witcha?" Our father murmured, huffing as a few of my brothers stared up at him blankly. Irritated, his goblet slammed down to the table, silverware jangling. "The fat one!"
"Walda," I sighed, my disgust growing.
"I believe the fat one is Walda, father dearest," Daltis drawled out, his head tipped back so he could stare blankly up at the ceiling. He had always tired quickly of our father's games. In fact, he rarely even attended these sort of dinners at all. I didn't even recall him being at my wedding celebration.
"Whatever her name is, she'll be married to Roose Bolton as soon as she's carted off to Dreadfort," father grumbled, obviously missing Daltis' sarcasm in his stupor.
"He isn't even coming to get her himself?" Corlin grumbled in astonishment, his brows furrowing. "What a lazy bastard."
"A fine match if ever there were one," Daltis replied, spinning one of the knives around with such delicate precision that something like suspicion started to creep through me. How had he learned to handle it like that? It looked to be too skilled for him to just have picked it up in our hallways. "Roose and Walda can be lazy together."
"You're an absolute ass, Daltis."
"Ah, how I miss the little lass that used to call me that," Daltis murmured, staring longingly down at the knife in his hands. "Always go for the gals that call you the most horrendous names, brother. They'll set the sheets aflame when you finally woe them."
"The last person I would want to take advice from is the families black sheep," Corlin quipped.
"Yes, because it's such a grand family to be a part of," Daltis drawled back sardonically, his gaze flicking to the badges displaying our sigil that some of our brothers had embroidered into their tunics. "If I keep going down this despicable path there might not be anyway that I can get back into father's good graces," Daltis continued on dramatically. "Probably have to go rape some poor lass who slights me or perhaps stab an ally in the back and then claim ignorance."
I blinked, glancing around nervously. Our brothers were… untrustworthy when it came to the art of secret keeping. Since I was little it was always about who was my father's favorite. In the Twins, it was a constant grab for power, each battle won through back handed comments and secrets traded to our father. My brother's craved it. And perhaps they knew that it was the only way that their futures were ensured. Where would the Twins fall when my father finally died? Worse yet, who would take all of my brothers and sisters when one of them took over?
"Be quite, you dolt," Corlin hissed. He was obviously thinking the same thing I was. There were too many of our brothers within earshot to get away with comments like that about our father.
"Oh, Corlin." Daltis' expression was oddly sympathetic. "How long are you going to stay here with our father lording over it like he's hiding some great fortune? The only prize here was your sister and a king already swept in here to take that away. What else is there? All of his precious little bastards? The river? If anyone wanted this heap of rubble they could run us out like that." I flinched as he snapped his fingers. Daltis' eyes had taken on a hard glint. "What are you staying here for?"
I could feel the discomfort coming off of my brother in waves. Silently, he stared down at his plate, his jaw working as a few stray curls falling into his eyes. Something tight and terrifying gripped through me like tiny hands slowly squeezing down on my insides. There had always been something restless about Corlin. Maybe there'd been something restless about both of us.
But now it was just him here all alone with our father and I could almost see that urge crawling in his veins, making his legs jiggle in agitation.
My father's voice had been droning on this entire time - rambling on about the maids and the Bolton fortune and why couldn't any of the other girls make a good match like that?
"All of you - worthless," Walder Frey final muttered, clearly disgusted as he stared off out the windows of the great hall. Sometimes I wondered about my father. I wondered if he had ever been a little boy, rushing down the halls or loving a woman with all of his being. Then I wondered if it really matter. Would it make him any less of an animal? "Walda will need an escort. One of you will need to go with her to Dreadfort."
Silence rang heavy through the air. The Boltons… they were a family that no one wished to trifle with. Under Eddard Stark, some of their traditions died a heavy, brutal death. But the vein of rebellion still pulsed strongly beneath the Bolton's land. Rumors had flown across the North like dandelion seeds on the wind during the war. One of them that my father found singularly amusing was that the young wolf was finding it particularly hard to keep a leash on the Bolton armies.
Occasionally, my father would burst into laughter. One day one of my older brothers had finally filled me in on the reason. It was rumored that the Boltons had flayed a few Stark lords in their time and kept them chained in their corridors, screaming until they eventually grew silent and still. To this day, it was said that those Starks were stilled chained in those halls, rotting away.
The Bolton's weren't known for their submission. But they were known for their skill in causing both terror and contempt from everyone within the North.
"I would be honored to take our sister to her new husband." I nearly choked on my own tongue as Corlin stood, his face solemn. Beside him, Daltis' face had stiffened into mild shock.
"Corlin," I hissed, standing up as well. For the first time since I had woken up in this place, I was wishing fiercely that he could hear me. If he could hear me then I could talk some sense into him. Terror tightened my insides, making it hard to breath.
"You?" Even my father had stilled, his goblet half tipped up. His weasley eyes held scepticism and alarm as they scanned over my brother's hard face.
Tell him he can't, I pleaded desperately, leaning over the table to stare down our father. Like my silent prayer would reach him. Please - just protect him this once. For a moment, there was no sound. All of my brothers had stopped any conversation or pretense of picking at the bubbling messes on their plates. Slowly, our Walder's eyes narrowed further on Corlin.
"You, boy?" His eyes sparkled in the flicker of the lamp light before his roar of laughter filled the great hall. I looked down, not wanting to see my brothers flush of embarrassment as a good number of my half-brothers joined in.
The heavy sound of a dagger sinking into the thick food of one of the long tables quickly cut them off however.
"I was just talking to Corlin about what a grand adventure it would be," Daltis drawled, his hands sinking into the cover of his trousers as he gave a lazy look around. There was something distinctly arrogant to the tilt of his lips. "Stretch our legs. See the sights."
I stared at them both in wonder. A few moments ago they had been squabbling like children and now they were offering to go to Dreadfort in each other's company like they were going on holiday.
Slowly, my father's eyes narrowed. "Both of you?"
"Old age doesn't suit you, father." The laugh that burst from Daltis's lips was sharp and mean, leaving no room for whether it was a jest or barb. Walder's lips twisted into an ugly sneer, his goblet slamming down to the table. Giving off an immense amount of glee, Daltis continued, speaking slowly. "We. Would like. To. Take. Our. beloved. Sister. To. Her Husband. Yes?"
He ended with a winning smile and a thumbs up to the complete horror of most of our brothers.
"If you weren't my son, I would gut you where you stand, you insufferable maggot." It wasn't an idle threat. I swallowed nervously, still somehow fearful even a million miles away. It was the sort of gut reaction that only came from having lived under the same roof as this man.
All traces of humor quickly left Daltis' face, leaving behind an angry glint in the depths of his gaze. "Apologies, father."
Both Corlin and Daltis, bowed stiffly to the dias leaving Walder with the sort of satisfaction that only a cat has when playing with mice.
"You'll be given some allowance from our store however you will be mostly in the graces of the Dreadfort." He paused and for a moment, I saw something that sent a burst of hope through me. In the milky depths of his eyes, I caught a trace of hesitation, some sort of quiet misgiving. Frey's were a people of caution. We were backstabbers and posioners, familiar with the company of darkness and how to conceal what was necessary in its shade.
As such, we were always sort of wed to the Boltons. Like always seems to marry like and my father and Roose Bolton were eerily similar.
When I was younger there had been talk of wedding me to Domeric, the youngest Bolton true born. It had even gotten to the point that his father had brought Domeric to visit, arranging private playdates where I mostly sat with Colton and played with our dolls while Domeric had plucked away at a small harp.
He had been a chubby little boy and liked to giggle a lot, more inclined to staying inside than getting muddy with me. When my father had told me that I would someday have to go back with him I had burst into tears.
His father scared me and sometimes I caught Domeric crying, rubbing at a purplish patch of skin along his ribs or legs. When I had asked, he had clammed up and said that I couldn't tell his father which I thought was strange. Who else could have hit him like that?
Only a year or so into our engagement, before the time where I would have ever been able to marry, he had fallen ill. Strangely, violently ill.
"You mustn't go there," I pleaded, unable to stop myself from swiping at my brother's hand, trying desperately to grab his attention. But even as my hands curled around his, there was no reaction. I watched my brother's tawny eyes, hoping for a flinch or flicker of recognition. Instead they remained stoney, set on where our father was seating, the look of apprehension growing more apparent by the silence.
Sadness quickly broke over the surface of my mind. I knew Corlin and I knew that he would go to Dreadfort. The look in his eyes told me as much.
Willa. I jerked, whirling to stare out the balcony window at the crashing of the waves against the side of the Twins. There had been a voice just now, soft and feminine.
Distantly, the stream of men's voice blended into a rushing like I was hearing a conversation from a different room. I blinked, my head spinning uncertainly as I tried to keep my balance. Colors blended together in the flickering light, washing and rubbing until I couldn't make out my brothers or even the great hall.
It's time to have a little chat, darling. The voice was becoming clearer, drawing closer until I felt like if I just focused down, I would be in the same room as whoever was calling me. I shut my eyes tightly, trying to get my head to stop spinning.
"Ah, I always forget how fragile you creatures are when it comes to these sorts of things." My head was pounding and I was pretty sure that I was lying on something cold and damp. I groaned, trying not to let the bewilderment make me into a wild mess. It was one thing to wake from a fever dream into a living nightmare and a complete other to be dragged from that to - whatever this was.
"Wake up, girl. I can't keep you here all cycle." Something nudged against my ribs harshly, making me groan again. My whole body ached, my muscles protesting weakly and my eyes cracking open just a bit to let in the flickering lights of the lamps that lit the trees around us.
Above me, something sparkled off the starlight, blinding me for a moment before I could look properly. It was a crystal chandelier hanging from where two branches touched across the expanse of the clearing. I blinked up at it, not entirely believing that it wouldn't come crashing down in a wave of gold and glass.
Lavender plants curled up at the roots of the trees, belying the fact that these plants needed open fields to grow much less blossom as vibrant as they shone in the lamplight. Only the shape and smell were enough to clue me into the actual blossom since the whole plant was a striking red, drizzled over with gold.
It only got odder as I slowly worked around the clearing, taking in the disjointed variety of gold pleated chairs and settees. Vines coiled along the ornate legs and arms, belying the fact that all of the furniture looked brand new. Every article of furniture that I could think of was there in that field from gold crusted dressers to a coffee table that sat tipped against a tree at the edge of the clearing.
And sitting in the middle of the clearing was the rotting remains of a giant tree, it's top sheared off, leaving behind only the trunk. On it, red and gold silks spilled over, heaping the ground and roots of the forest floor. Candles burned down to a puddle still burned as they circled the edge of the tree.
Reclining on a cluster of pillows and fur throws was a woman - My mind condensed along her features, my eyes focusing and then blurring as I tried to distinguish what she looked like. I winced, turning my gaze to the chains that bracketed her ankles. Even they were welded in gold and splattered with something that looked suspiciously like blood. My eyes followed the snaking trail until it disappeared beneath the roots and dirt beneath her altar.
"Are you finally with me, Willa Stark?" I jerked at the name, somehow shocked that she knew who I was. But then again - why should I be? I had the creeping feeling that she had dragged me here. I forced my eyes to her face once more, finding with relief that her features had settled into one of a striking female.
Obsidian locks curled at the nape of her neck, twisting around her head like a coil of snakes ready to strike. In her eyes, I thought I caught the reddish glow of a hundred fires, burning up houses. I could hear the screams just by keeping her gaze. Her lips were full and blood red, striking against skin as dark as the night sky above. She was endless and destructive in a way that human skin couldn't seem to fully contain.
I was in the den of a beast.
"You needn't be afraid, little witch." Those words worked directly against the quiver that worked through me, the voice silky and almost cajoling in it's tone. Red lips tips up and suddenly her hair was as white as fresh milk from the cow, slithering into a series of braids that were wound with bloody, red roses. "If I had wanted to kill you, I very well could have. In fact, I daresay that I rather like you."
"You-" For a moment, my voice gave out on me before I was able to regain myself. "What are you? Where - where am I?"
Her head tipped to the side as if considering whether to answer or keep along the same train of thought that she had been following before. Slowly, she nodded. "I believe at this moment, your mortal body is dying of fever in some shabby little tent on the outskirts of the Vale. However, your immortal body - well, that's a bit more complicated." Blackened teeth flashed for a moment, jarring in their severity but leaving me in no doubt of how much glee she was getting from my discomfort. For a moment, we sat in tense silence - two opposites mirrored. A small, trembling girl crumpled up in the mudd and a queen upon her throne, deadly in beautiful.
"My name - well, I've lost that but you can call me by what everyone does." Her smile was bright and terrible, her shoulders going up as she leaned forward from her seated position. "Chaos."
A million memories flooded me at once, all worse than the last. My mother had spoken to me often enough about the nature of Chaos. She had almost seemed to say the name like a prayer, something to be worshipped instead of thrown about. She had also warned me in cryptic little snips to never, ever let Chaos slither inside of you.
"Chaos," my mother whispered, rubbing the oils from a blackthorn's leaves into my fingers. To ward away the forceful, she had told me after I had made a fuss about the bitter smell. "She takes too much when she arrives and when she leaves… I've seen ghosts with brighter souls than her. You will not let her in. You are too strong to bow to someone who takes so much."
"I believe your mother spoke of me," the goddess drawled, making a show of adjusting her chains. Mentally, I measured out how long that tether lay, finding myself well out of her grasp. "For a while, she did a well enough job of blocking you from me but-" Dainty shoulders raised in a half-hearted shrug. "That hold grew weaker after her death. Imagine my glee when a few nights ago it just... broke." Long, pianist fingers snapped together, making me flinch.
"What do you want from me?" The words were barely more than a whisper, my breath coming in short bursts as I tried to glance discreetly around. There was no exit and even if I found one - what was I expecting? A tavern? Robb to come running up with Grey Wind at his side? No. This wasn't the mortal realm any longer. This was hers and the only way to get out of it was to play with her.
I straightened, folding my legs beneath me and smoothing out the wrinkles in my skirts. I had no idea what I must look like but it wasn't going to get me any further by quivering like a rabbit.
One delicate brow arched in obvious amusement as she took in the change in poster, something about her demeanor changing. Beneath, her dark, beautiful skin something rippled like pebble being thrown into a pond. Whatever her true form was, I was inclined to guess that it would have sent my little human body running for the hills.
"I appreciate a woman who gets to the point." Her fingers rapped down, impatiently at the furs splayed across her lap. "As it is, we don't have much time so I'll cut to the chase." Those endless eyes trapped my own. "Your mother was one of the few witches that were actually worth a damn. She served me for the duration of her life and - incidentally - offered your services as well when she realized that you shared the same gifts."
Shock made me stumble. "She… she made me your slave?"
"Everyone is my slave, darling," Chaos purred, settling back like a cat that had just killed a rather large bird. "Although it could be considered servitude there was a contract between us - something that her grandmother before her had negotiated and bled for when she realized that this world doesn't treat your kind very generously."
"My-my… kind?" This was all a lot of information. My thoughts spun back to the vines that had sprung from nothing. The flowers. The dreams.
"Witches," she clarified, her eyes scanning over me quickly before she continued. "Each of the women in your family have had abilities manifest in ways that are unique to every female. Your mother was adept at the art of bloodletting and bone-breaking - you can imagine my joy. Her mother was a renowned healer. You are one of many in a line of extraordinary women."
I blinked, growing dizzy. This was… I leaned to the side, throwing up a soupy whitish liquid which made the woman in front of me recoil in disgust.
"Yes," Chaos said slowly as I spit into the grass. "It seems that you're dying."
My head whipped to the side. "I beg your pardon?"
She shrugged, not looking particularly emotional about the revelation. "The human body can only survive for so long without it's core. Your spirit has been wandering for well over a week now."
"Are you trying to help me or destroy me?" I hissed, paling as a bit of blood came with my next attempt to spit out the awful taste in the back of my throat.
Peeling laughter like the sound of horses stamping and waves beating against rock filled the clearing, reaching up for the very sky itself. Was it possible for a laugh to decimate the stars?
"I honestly couldn't tell you, darling." Her hand waved absently as I fumed. This creature was infuriating. "But let's not grow miffed just yet, shall we? Your business comes with the contract that was formed with the first of your bloodline. On my end, I allowed for ultimate safety. No mortal man will ever burn you nor drown you or crush you beneath the rocks of this earth for being what you are. And on your end… well, let's say that you would keep the order."
"Order?" I blinked, taken aback. My eyes searched across her face, trying to piece together what I had missed. "You're… Chaos."
If I could have seen her pupils, I'm sure they would have rolled. "It's disappointing to know that your mother didn't even try to inform you of the little things. Perhaps even more disappointing is your small, human mind."
I wasn't entirely sure if I should be offended.
"We are one of the same coin - order and I." Her voice had somehow gone soft, like a woman speaker of her lover. "From my skin, the toils of war are dug, the battle cries and final slaughter are taken. I give the frenzy while Order gives the strategy. From my breath, I create laughter and art, inspire revolt against oppression. We are one and the same, forever dancing and moving together. Order created the concept of dance, giving name and reason to movement while I inspire the passion to create and dance with all of one's being. There is no separation."
Her eyes were fathomless as they caught mine. "The balance has been tipped in my favor for too long, Willa Stark. Order has grown weak and I…"
The chains at her feet rattled, dragging deeper into the mud like it was being yanked upon. Slowly, her lips thinned.
"You're very existence will level things a bit but I have a request that you must fill."
"That sounds like a demand," I clarified, feeling somehow trapped. It sounded like my very life was within this woman's hands. I blinked, trying not to let the creeping terror show.
Chaos didn't answer me, her lips thinning. "Your choice is simple, Willa Stark. Die in the mountains before you reach Winterfell or accept this generous offer."
I bit my lip, turning to stare at the fathomless forest beyond. Was there really a choice?
"One task?" I hedged, already feeling the impatience ticking off of her in waves. Metallic tang coated my tongue and I gurgled a bit, spitting up a thick wave of blood.
"Tick tock, little witch." Was that glee I heard in her voice? "One little, bitty task. You will live and love and be done with this horrid business."
Die or live waiting at the beck and call of Order and Chaos. Was there really a choice? My heart scrambled at life. At seeing Robbs face again. At speaking to Corlin once more.
"Life," I choked out, gagging as some more bile rushed from my stomach. "I choose life."
Every time I publish another chapter in another story, I always seem to get angry update reviews on this one lol. So, as always, your wish is my command. I hope you enjoy this chapter since it took me FOR-EV-ER to work out all these scenes. Please review - ya'll know what a hog I am.