A/N Hi Guys! I'm so sorry this chapter took so long to be posted! Life and school got in the way and I started to write another story. LOL. To be quite honest, I'm not entirely happy with this chapter, it was a bitch to write, but I got it done. I'd say we have another 3-4 chapters max of the first leg of this story – remember I had initially wanted to split my planned arc into 3 parts when I went on my long hiatus in order to wrap it up but changed my mind. So we're approaching the point where I'd want to end my first part. This chapter, while not much seems to happen, is important in terms of laying foundations. I really hope the arc here makes sense and that Avariella still feels genuine. Let me know. Thanks for all of your support guys, it means a lot.

I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy! Please be sure to take care of yourselves! Tell me what you think of this chapter (I'm not happy with it, but I hope some are!) And what you think will happen. Stay safe guys!

Until next time,

Fionakevin073

Chapter 12

Lilly was still crying.

Avariella watched the mother and daughter embrace with a dull, aching heart. She seemed rooted to the spot. After her outburst with the crowd earlier, no one seemed to be loitering around and staring, which was one thing to be thankful for. Avariella cast her gaze to the doors of the First Keep, where the body was sure to still be.

Gods, she thought. None of you are just.

It was a conclusion she had thought ingrained into her mind after Avos had died; it surprised her then, to feel the clench of disappointment in her gut.

"Oh no," she heard someone gasp.

Avariella turned to find Jeyna and Wylla making their way towards the three of them.

"I know," Avariella said, careful to keep her voice low so as not to disturb the mother and daughter. She stepped forward to meet them. Her hand latched on to Jeyna's arm to prevent her from moving towards Lilly. "They need a moment longer, I think."

Jeyna's eyes appeared unbearably sad when Avariella looked into them. Wylla did not look much better either. They must have known Aster too, to mourn him also. Or maybe they just loved Lyra and Lilly that much, even though they weren't family.

Avariella had never loved someone that wasn't her family. She paused. There had been Arra, but she seemed so far away from her now. They hadn't even been close the last year before Avariella came to Winterfell. But love doesn't just die because you no longer speak to someone.

"In a few moments I'm going to go inside the First Keep and arrange to have his body prepared for burial," she told Jeyna quietly. "I'm going to need you to take Lilly and Lyra back to their home. The burial will need to be tomorrow, they won't keep him there for that long."

Jeyna and Wylla nodded simultaneously, looking rather grim.

"Whatever you do," Avariella continued. "Don't let them out of your sight, especially Lilly. There was an incident with the Queen, and we don't need to make the situation worse."

"Incident?" Wylla spoke. "What do you mean, my lady?"

Avariella lowered her voice even further.

"Lilly had an outburst when the Queen told them what happened," she murmured. "I need to speak with her."

"Who?"

"The Queen."

The reality of the situation struck Avariella like a blow.

"Okay," she said, straightening her spine. She turned to find Lilly and Lyra still embracing each other like a lifeline. Jeyna and Wylla moved to them first, placing gentle hands on their shoulders.

"Come," Jeyna murmured, wrapping an arm around Lilly's shoulder. "Let's get the both of you home."

Avariella felt something brush against her side, glanced down to find Max beneath her, whimpering quietly. The sound stirred Lilly's attention and she stepped forth so that she was closer to them both. Wylla had already started to guide Lyra away slowly.

Max nudged Lilly's side as if to comfort her. The young girl sniffled loudly, rubbing at her eyes. Avariella was once again reminded of Shirei. A lump formed in her throat. She crouched down so they were at the same height and caught the girl's gaze.

"You'll be alright," she told her fiercely, surging forward to hug her. She felt relief when the girl embraced her back. "I promise you, Lilly. I promise." Avariella felt her shoulder begin to wet from Lilly's tears and she pulled back slowly, pressing a quick kiss to the girl's forehead.

"I'll see you soon," she said.

Avariella glanced at Jeyna, who was watching the seen with a quizzical look.

"Max," Avariella called out. Her faithful companion looked up at her. Avariella reached down to pet him.

"He'll be with you for the night," she told Lilly, who only nodded in response. Max moved closer to Lilly, as if he understood.

Avariella moved to Jeyna and then stopped.

"Get her home," she murmured. "Stay safe, the both of you."

She didn't know why she felt the warning was necessary, but the words slipped out her lips anyway. The Starks wouldn't harm Lilly or Lyra. They weren't known for their cruelty. Unbidden, memories of her father flashed in her mind; his smirk, his cruelty and arrogance. He would not have stood for such a thing; Hells, he had even held a grudge against her for when she protested about having to apologize to the Starks for her first outburst. If he'd been that vindictive towards one of his daughters, he was infinitely worse to others.

Maybe the Starks were more alike her father than she knew. Avariella wasn't sure; she hadn't seen them angry or give out punishments. The Starks are known to be honorable, she reminded herself, as she stalked towards the First Keep. They aren't cruel.

You've experienced otherwise, a voice in her head whispered. They haven't exactly been kind and honorable towards you, have they?

The words made her heartbeat quicken. Avariella pushed open the door and let it slam behind her. She did not see Maester Bryal on the first floor and so she practically flew up the stairs, careful not to trip on the skirt of her dress. She nearly sagged with relief when she saw the back of Maester Bryal from where she stood at the foot of the stairs and she walked towards him quickly.

"Maester –"

Lying on a table, lifeless and pale, was Ashter.

They had not even had the time to clean his body or his surroundings. Avariella saw the ruined bandages, the blood-soaked sheet beneath his body. There was a thick smell of something metallic in the air, even stronger than usual, and it took her a moment to realize it was blood.

Avariella had never seen a dead body up close before. He looked strangely like he was asleep, and Avariella would have believed it if it wasn't for his eyes still being open. It sent a shiver up her spine. Her eyes drifted lower, saw the open wound on his leg, the blood coating his sides. She felt bile rise up her throat, swallowed it down loudly. She closed her eyes as if to wipe the sight from her memory, but even in that moment she knew it was useless. This was a sight that would be cemented in her memory, forever.

"My lady, you shouldn't be here." Maester Bryal was suddenly at her side, clasping onto her elbow to turn her away. Avariella let him.

She opened her mouth and then closed it. For some reason, the words wouldn't come.

You can do this, she thought. She tried to will feeling back into her fingers.

"Maester, I need you to have the body prepared," she said. Her voice sounded steadier than she could have hoped.

The elder man paused and stared at Avariella with a blank expression.

"Prepared?"

Avariella realized suddenly that she did not really know the typical way of dealing with corpses in the med bay.

"Yes," she responded, jutting her chin defiantly. "The family is here at Winterfell. We must let them bury him."

"Yes," he murmured. "I will have his body prepared. Gods know that's the least we can do now."

Avariella felt her gaze narrow. The Queen. Oh Gods, the Queen.

"I must find her," she blurted out, before she could think better of it.

"The Queen," she elaborated, when the Maester looked at her quizzically. He didn't seem entirely concerned about her whereabouts.

"One of the healers witnessed that exchange," he commented casually.

"Oh."

He looked Avariella right in the eye.

"I suppose you may want to look for her as soon as possible."

"Yes," Avariella replied. "I will go right away."

They stared at each other for a few moments, before Avariella forced herself out of the room. She had to support herself against the wall as she climbed down the stairs. She could scarcely believe that Lady Barbrey had only left this morning; it felt like a lifetime ago now.

The outside air was like a bucket of fresh water. Avariella inhaled deeply, tried to rid herself of the thick iron smell. Lady Barbrey could not have imagined that Avariella would be forced to move so soon, to start weaving her deceptions and manipulations.

For a moment, Avariella did not wish to move. She wanted to run back to her tent and crawl under the covers and sleep if she could with max by her side. She imagined Lady Barbrey's cool look. I have faith in you, she had told her.

I can't do this, Avariella thought. I really can't.

But she had to, didn't she?

This was her moment; if she failed now, after having witnessed the Queen's distress and done nothing, she would never have the chance again. You can, a part of her said. You must. It sounded an awful lot like Lady Barbrey.

Avariella forced herself to move. She didn't know where the Queen went. No doubt she would have wanted to be isolated, to be sheltered. Avariella started towards the tent area, her steps quick and brisk.

Her gaze did not seem to remain in one spot. It flickered between the ground beneath her, people walking nearby, the Godswood –

Avariella halted in her steps.

The entrance to the Godswood seemed to call out to her. Instinctively, Avariella listened, and before she knew it she was closing the gate behind her and making her way through the thick forest. With the sky losing light, the trees seemed all the more intimidating; they appeared to Avariella like tall shadows that thinned and thickened with every step.

This was where she had gone after Olyvar told her the truth. It made sense to her, deep down, for the Queen to seek the same solitude. Avariella paused. A sound was coming from the path ahead. She could see the top of the Heart Tree from where stood.

It sounded an awful lot like sobbing.

Avariella moved forth, careful to keep her steps quiet. Her gaze immediately latched on to the figure beneath the Heart Tree, who had buried her face in her knees as she rocked back and forth.

She had been right; and both she and the Queen had had their moment of weakness interrupted by someone they loathed.

Did the Queen hate her? Avariella wasn't sure. The thought hadn't really occurred to her before. But maybe she was just making excuses now, to avoid this situation, to be able to run away.

Avariella stared at the Queen, who was oblivious to her presence. The weakest link, Lady Barbrey had called her.

"Your grace."

The words escaped her lips before she knew it. The Queen did not seem to have heard. Avariella stepped towards her until she was also near the heart tree. She crouched down a little, sat herself on a small rock nearby.

"Your grace."

Avariella saw the Queen's body freeze. Her head snapped up.

"Are you alright?"

The Queen's eyes were wide and frightened, like she was some kind of wild animal that needed to be tamed. Her pupils were red, and her eyes swollen. Avariella looked at her intently, and saw that her hands and hair were still stained with blood.

"I. . ." the Queen cleared her throat, tucked some of the hair that had escaped her braid behind her ears. "I. . ."

The Queen gulped loudly and looked down, fidling with her fingers. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but Avariella did not miss the scratches on the Queen's hands, how red they looked, almost as if someone had been rubbing on them incessantly.

She had been trying to scrub off the blood.

"Come," Avariella said. "Give me your hands."

The Queen looked at her with a wary, terrified look, but obeyed. Avariella felt the other woman's hands tremble as she held them. She held both wrists in one hand as the other scooped some water from the pond beside them. The water was cold and spilt a lot of it on the ground and in her lap, but she still managed to pour some over the Queen's hands.

She repeated the motion a few times and then gently petted her hands with the sleeves of her dress. Soon enough they were soaked, but Avariella did not feel the cold just yet.

"Thank you," the Queen murmured. Her hands were still trembling.

Avariella nodded.

They remained in silence for a long while.

"I'm sorry."

Avariella's eyes turned to the Queen.

"I'm so sorry," the woman whispered. "I didn't mean to. I tried."

She looked beautiful even then. Strangely enough, the only thing it did was make Avariella's stomach clench. There was no triumph in her beauty, only sadness, only fragility. Her beauty had caught the attention of a King. To Avariella, it did not appear as though that had done her any good.

"I know," she replied, the words catching in her throat. "I can see that, your grace."

Swallowing felt painful.

"Do you?" the Queen questioned. "I rarely feel seen anymore."

Avariella bit the inside of her cheek.

"I see you, your grace."

She felt empty as she said it, as though she were talking to a wall. She wondered briefly what Lady Barbrey would think of her now, how she would critique this performance. Convince them, she would say. No – convince me.

The night before she had left, when they had sat on the outskirts of the camp, Lady Barbrey had told her to think of it like speaking to a friend.

Avariella had resisted the urge to tell her she didn't have many friends.

"I suppose you would," the Queen replied, some awareness filtering back into her eyes. "You have little choice in the matter."

You didn't say it would be this hard, Avariella yelled to the imaginary Lady Barbrey. She grit her teeth.

"Your grace what happened wasn't your fault," she said.

That seemed to grab the Queen's attention.

"I took that little girl's father away," she murmured. Avariella watched as what little composure the Queen had regained over the course of their short conversation vanish.

"You didn't mean to."

"I tried," the Queen continued, as if she hadn't heard. "I thought I was doing the right thing."

Avariella was suddenly aware of how dark the sky was getting; how cool the air had become. But she couldn't just up and leave, could she? She had to get the Queen out of the Godswood, too.

"Your grace," Avariella said firmly. She grabbed ahold of the Queen's hands and squeezed, so as to snap her back to reality. "It's dark. We must go back."

The Queen stared intently at Avariella's shoulder, seemingly incapable of looking her in the eye.

"Do you understand me?" she asked. Avariella squeezed her hands more. "We must head back."

She rose to feet her determinedly, still holding on to the Queen's hands.

"Come," she said, gently tugging at her.

"I don't think I can make it," the Queen whispered into the night air.

Avariella gazed down at her. She reminded Avariella of a wounded animal.

"You can," she replied. "You must."

Avariella couldn't leave her; no doubt people would find them if they had disappeared for too long, but how embarrassing would that be for everybody? To have the Queen carried out of the Godswood like some wounded damsel.

Slowly, the Queen rose to her feet, using Avariella to support her when she swayed dangerously. Avariella could still faintly make out the Queen's features and she gently swiped at the tear tracks on her cheeks, smoothed the Queen's hair out with quick pats.

Avariella led her out of the Godswood like she was a child, one hand still holding onto hers tightly. She barely saw the trees as she led them out, they were surrounded by darkness. There was the distant light from a torch near the gate, and she used that to guide her.

When they made out, Avariella felt a weight lift off her chest, but she did not stop to savour it. Instead, she made her way with the Queen to the latter's tent as quick as she could. She hoped they did not draw too much attention to themselves. No doubt people would be perplexed as to why the Frey girl was escorting the Queen around the grounds while the latter was blood stained and teary eyed.

The guards outside the Queen's tent could not hide their astonishment, but Avariella paid them no heed and tugged the Queen into the tent, the flaps closing behind them. The tent was dimly lit by several candles but was otherwise empty.

"Come," Avariella said. She almost sighed with relief when she caught sight of a bucket of water near the bed, along with a few cloths. They couldn't bathe properly in tubs while they lived in the tents.

She sat the Queen down on one of the chairs and began to undo her braid. She smoothed through the knotty tresses with her fingers. Avariella caught sight of a brush on the nearby dresser and moved quickly to pick it up. The Queen stiffened at the loss of contact, but noticeably relaxed when Avariella returned.

She began to brush the Queen's long, raven hair with careful strokes, almost like she had with Shirei, so long ago. Avariella heard her heart beating loudly in her ears, felt her ribcage tremble due to the sheer force of it. What am I doing? She kept thinking, bile rising in her throat. What in the seven hells am I doing?

She stopped when the final knot was gone and placed the brush down. For a moment – she didn't know how long – she felt as though her mind go blank, and she could scarcely recognize where she was, who she was with, what she was doing.

Grow up, a voice inside her head snapped.

This wasn't Lady Barbrey; no;

This was her.

Avariella picked up one of the cloths and dipped it in the bucket.

"I'm going to wash you now, okay?"

She wrung the cloth tightly, the warm water wetting her fingers.

The Queen stirred a little at her words.

"You're going to have to undress."

The Queen scooted forth on the chair and then stopped. Avariella did not think she had the strength to stand. After putting the wet cloth on the arm of the chair, Avariella awkwardly began to undo the laces of the Queen's gown. She resisted the urge to let out a sigh of relief when she caught sight of the shift underneath, glad she was not to see her nude. The upper part of the dress began to sag, making it easy for Avariella to pull the Queen's arms out of the dress.

"Okay," she murmured to herself. "Okay."

She grabbed a hold of the cloth and gently began to stroke the Queen's arms, her neck, careful not to wet her shift. Gods knew Queen could become sick otherwise, and Avariella could not allow that. In her mind, she pictured the Queen growing ill with fever, gasping and shivering, dying because Avariella wasn't careful enough. That wouldn't do me any good, she thought, pushing the Queen's hair over one shoulder when she began to clean her upper back.

That wouldn't do anyone any good.

When she was done with her upper body, Avariella only had to move in front of the Queen to get her to rise unsteadily to her feet. She had to grip onto the arms of the chair to stay standing, and Avariella was careful to move quickly.

Don't collapse, she thought fervently. I can't carry you, and that would be a scandal that would haunt me forever.

It was a strangely intimate thing, what she was doing to the Queen. She'd only ever done such a thing for Shirei; who was her sister, who she loved. The Queen was neither of those things to her, and so Avariella felt almost like an imposter. Avariella straightened her back and hung the cloth over the rim of the bucket. She surveyed the room and caught sight of the Queen's robe. She grabbed it and returned to the Queen, whose expression had remained rather lifeless, as though she were unable to comprehend the world around her.

"You'll get cold," Avariella told her gently. "Extend your arms."

After a few moments, the Queen did. Her arms trembled, as though the effort was too much to bear. She is a delicate thing, Avariella thought. I know not how she will survive.

The idea didn't bring her any particular joy or grief; only indifference.

Once the Queen was wearing her robe and Avariella had closed the sash, she guided the Queen to the bed and encouraged her to lie down. The Queen's head fell onto her pillow as she settled ontop of the furs.

"Sleep, your grace," Avariella murmured, watching as the Queen's eyes fell shut.

The other woman nodded sleepily.

Avariella made to leave the tent but was stopped by a whisper.

"Talisa," the Queen was murmuring. "My name is Talisa."

Avariella paused, observed the sleeping woman a moment, and then left.

She knew not whether the King or Lady Catelyn had heard of the incident. Even if they hadn't, she knew Maester Bryal would have been sure to tell them. Or would he? He had not seemed too pleased with the Queen earlier this afternoon. After all, why would he be? She disregarded his advice and it resulted in a man being killed.

Would Ashter have died anyway? Avariella wasn't sure. She wondered if it really mattered, at the end of the day. When someone was dead, they were gone, and the people left behind needed someone to blame. It didn't matter what the circumstances were; it was far easier to feel anger than it is to feel grief.

"My lady."

Avariella halted at the sound of the King's voice. She was nearby her tent now.

"Your grace," Avariella said, turning to face the King. She tried not to wince when she caught sight of Greywind beside him. If it were possible, the beast seemed to have grown even larger since she had last seen him.

"Olyvar."

Her brother was standing a few steps behind the King, watching her with a wide-eyed expression. Avariella bit down on her lip and tried to smooth out her features.

"Lady Frey," the King said, forcing Avariella to look at him. "Is my wife alright?"

Ask her yourself.

The longer she stood out in the cold, the more she noticed how late it was. There was no light left in the sky now; it was merely a black canvas. She couldn't even see any stars. She hadn't seen any since they had left the Riverlands.

"Yes," she replied. "The Queen was sleeping when I left her."

The King nodded before rubbing at his jaw. He did not appear to Avariella as too worried or angered by what had occurred this afternoon. The more she stared at him, the more her doubt grew that he had any idea what had happened.

Then why would he have stopped you?

They had almost bumped into each other, that was for certain. He was probably being polite.

"Olyvar and I were discussing how we are all to be family now," the King continued. He looked unbothered as a breeze ruffled through their hair. Avariella tried not to shiver.

"I a cousin, and you both a niece or nephew."

"Yes," Avariella said. "It is quite exciting to think about."

"Indeed. My uncle and Lady Roslin are quite blessed."

Avariella was suddenly reminded of the child the King and Queen had lost during the war. Does that mean you are not blessed? She wanted to ask.

"Yes, I am rather happy for them, your grace."

They stared at each other for a long moment.

"I will not hold you, my lady. It is rather late."

Avariella wondered if she should tell him what had happened. She tried to think about what she would say, how she would say it, but she couldn't. The words got lost in her throat before she could even think of how to form them.

"Goodnight your grace," is all she said, curtsying.

"Goodnight."

She cast her gaze to Olyvar for a quick moment.

"And to you," she said, forcing the words out her mouth.

Olyvar opened his mouth but Avariella did not stay around to hear it. She walked past the King and went directly to her tent, her steps quick and brisk.

Once she was safely inside, her eyes automatically found the pieces of parchment she had left strewn out on the small table nearby her cot. She was suddenly seized by a frantic need to write to Lady Barbrey, to tell her what happened. Gods be good, she thought again. Did she only leave this morn?

She sat down in her chair and picked up her quill, but something made her pause. Would it seem too desperate if she wrote so soon after the Lady left? And to her son? What would this Daemon Dustin think?

Avariella exhaled loudly and rubbed at her eyes. Mayhaps it would be better for her to wait until the Lady Barbrey had written first. She did not want to do anything to rash, too impulsive, too emotional. And Avariella was emotional at the current moment. She hadn't even realized how drained she felt until she had sunk down in her chair. No doubt the encounter with the King and Olyvar had worsened her condition, but she was still rattled by the fragility of the Queen and Lilly and Lyra's sorrow.

The sight of Ashter's corpse on the table lingered behind her eyes when she closed them. Avariella let her elbows fall to her knees as she bent over, rubbing at the crease in her forehead. She had not anticipated that it would be this hard, that this would have happened.

She was torn by the desire to speak to someone, anyone, and the desire to fall into a deep sleep. Her eyes lingered on the parchment in front of her and slowly the ache in her head began to dull and slip to the back of her subconsciousness.

Sleep, she decided, rising from the chair. I need some sleep.

She slept fitfully that night, unable to sleep for more than an hour at a time. She would wake with a start, sweaty and shuddering, until eventually darkness would overcome her. She missed Max, the loyal dog, felt a little unsafe without his warm presence curled up beside her.

It would be difficult to sleep without him when they moved into the castle.

When Avariella woke for what felt like the hundredth time, she resolved to simply stay awake. She felt restless as she lay there, like there were hundreds of things she needed to do, and she supposed there was.

With a loud huff, she got out of bed, shivering a little at the cold and prepared herself for the day, brushing her hair with harsh strokes, pinning two locks behind her head.

"Okay," she breathed. "Okay."

When she was fully dressed in her cloak and cloves, she left her tent, much to the confusion of the guards posted outside, who were no doubt sleepy and groggy. The sun had not yet risen, casting the camp in a silvery light.

She made her way towards the First Keep without a second thought. The grounds of Winterfell were quiet as she entered through the East Gate. The light was not yet good enough for the construction to commence, and for that she was grateful. The silence gave her some peace of mind. She could not even hear distant murmurs from Wintertown either.

For a moment, Avariella paused and turned to stare at the town. Their camp was set a little off to the side, so as not to block the entrance to the East Gate and trouble the workers who lived in the small, houses that appeared row after row. It was not fully inhabited now. A lot of the soldiers had returned to their lands that had been managed by their wives and other family members in their absence. Only a few hundred, outside of those who had already been living or working at Winterfell or Wintertown, returned, or simply stayed after returning from the South.

Avariella sighed softly and turned around.

The First Keep loomed in the distance and the closer she got the more her heart seemed to pound. She remembered quite vividly the sight of Ashter yesterday, laying there…

She halted in her steps at the sight of a wagon waiting outside the doors of the First Keep. There was a man sitting at the front, with a small stick in his hands. The donkey was shuffling around a little.

That was to be Ashter's burial cart.

Avariella felt her stomach seize violently, her throat clenching as she suddenly struggled to breathe easy. Calm down, she told herself. Calm. Nothing here can hurt you.

With an eye on the man, Avariella made her way to the door and pushed it open. The sight that greeted her as she made her entrance was not overly surprisingly. Jeyna was talking quietly to Maester Bryal.

They stopped talking when they heard the door close behind her.

"Lady Frey," Maester Bryal said.

As Avariella stepped closer, she noticed just how tired the Maester seemed; how the circles around his eyes had deepened and blackened like bruises.

"Maester," she returned, readily enough.

Her gaze shifted to Jeyna, who looked like greatly pale. When Avariella caught sight of what was on the table behind her, she understood why. Ashter's corpse had been wrapped with a sheet, with ropes tied around certain areas as to keep what was beneath hidden from the living's view. It was a sordid, morbid sight, and yet Avariella was grateful that Lilly would not be subject to view her father's corpse like Avariella had yesterday.

"Milady, I was about to take the body to the lichyard, where Lilly and Lyra will meet us, but the wagon rider is demanding payment now, and I only brought enough coin for one way, so I would not be cheated."

Avariella felt a surge of anger within her.

"And he refuses to take the body back without payment?" she asked, with a little more edge than she intended.

Jeyna blinked a little in surprise.

"Yes, milady."

So much for Northerners being honourable, my father's men would have done that!

"Maester, is everything else prepared?" Avariella questioned.

"Yes, Lady Frey. The body is prepared. Say the word, and people will carry the body to the cart."

"Thank you," Avariella said, before turning on her heel. "I will be but a moment."

The wagon driver seemed close to sleep as Avariella walked towards him.

"You, there," she called out.

She watched as he jumped, his eyes wide as he looked around, searching for the source of her voice.

"My lady," he said, with a bit of a Southern accent. "Fine morning to you."

"How very kind of you," she said. She almost felt she was trembling she was so angry. "Tell me, did I hear correctly that you refuse to take this body back to its family without full payment despite it being agreed you would not be paid fully until after the deed was done?"

"My lady?"

"You heard me, Ser," she said, her voice low.

"I-I- I meant no offence—"

"I'm sure you did not," she cut in smoothly. "But I am sure you will rectify the situation by helping the poor girl immediately, will you not?"

"Of course, my lady, I only wanted to ensure I wouldn't be cheated out of anything – it is a difficult trip back South, is all."

Avariella surveyed him a moment. He appeared to be genuine enough, but Avariella was wary of being deceived and still angered by his apparent lack of empathy.

"I am glad to hear it," she said. "Thank you."

She returned indoors and promptly told the Maester that the issue had been solved, and that the body could be carried to the cart immediately. Jeyna deflated visibly at the news, the additional stress being sapped out of her.

Avariella stood next to her as some guards and other men began to carry the body out.

"How are they?" she asked, careful to keep her eyes on anywhere but the corpse.

"Devastated," Jeyna responded honestly. "They will move past this, as does everyone with grief, but the wound is quite fresh, milady."

"Of course," Avariella agreed quietly. "It must be."

"I should have known," Jeyna murmured, more to herself than to Avariella.

"Known what?"

The other girl startled, as if suddenly remembering Avariella was there.

"The man," Jeyna said. "He wasn't the one the people in Winterfell usually use for such things, but he was the first man with a cart I saw. I only hope –" She paused, bit down her lip. "I only hope that he will not come after us for more, milday."

Avariella stared at her.

Jeyna flushed a little.

"Not that it is at all your concern, milady, I did not mean to trouble you with my worries –"

"I will accompany you to Wintertown," Avariella declared. "To ensure he does no such thing. If he dares, you come to me. I may not be the Queen, or the Lady of Winterfell, but I am still a Lady."

A generally powerless one with limited funds, but sometimes a title grants you power inspite of everything else, especially with the smallfolk.

"Thank you," Jeyna said. "Milady, you do not have to—"

"Do not speak of it," she interrupted, smoothing her skirts. "I believe they have finished now, Jeyna."

They made their way outdoors, where Maester Bryal awaited them.

"Maester Bryal," Avariella said, moving to the cart. "If I do not return before first light, please inform Lady Catelyn that I entered Wintertown on an urgent errand, though I suspect it will not be necessary. I would be most appreciative."

She left no room for him to question her decision.

"Very well, my lady."

Avariella watched Jeyna prop herself up and climb to sit next to the man at the front of the wagon. Suddenly uneasy, Avariella stood, trying to figure out how to do the same without making a complete fool of herself.

"Milady," Jeyna said, extending out her arms.

Yes, much better, she thought. She held onto Jeyna's hands and, with one foot pressed against the wheel, allowed herself to be tugged up onto the small space beside Jeyna. A little breathless, Avariella dusted her skirts and smoothed out her hair.

This is an uncomfortable position, she thought, leaning back a little. She tried not to think about how there was a corpse a few feet behind her.

"Very well," she said, clearing her throat.

The man whistled, hitting the donkey's buttock with the stick in his hands, and the wagon started to move. The path was bumpy, uncomfortable and painfully slow, so slow Avariella began to worry she would not be back in Winterfell before midday. But soon enough, they were past Winterfell's grounds and were entering Wintertown. They rolled past numerous houses that looked near identical; built of logs and undressed stone. The streets appeared to be very muddy, and Avariella caught sight of the wooden stalls used for produce and goods, no doubt for the market square.

But it was empty. They probably hadn't had a proper market in quite a while, with the war and burning of Winterfell. The more Avariella looked, the emptier it seemed.

"How many people live here during the winter?" Avariella whispered to Jeyna.

"Lyra said Wintertown can house around fifteen thousand Northmen from across the region," Jeyna said. "There's only a few hundred now, of course. At least of the farmers."

Avariella nodded and tried to process this information. Fifteen thousand? She had difficulty wrapping her head around it.

They continued straight down the path, till the rows of houses grew thinner and the patches of trees grew larger. Eventually, the wagon rolled to stop outside of a small, delipidated stone wall with a small gap that people could walk through. The man hopped off the seat and made his way to Avariella's side to help her down. She observed her surroundings. The graveyard – or lichyard, they called it in the North, for some reason – seemed rather full. She saw various gravestones littered across the yard, some in better shape than others, with quite a few no doubt having collapsed already.

A shiver ran up her spine. She would be walking over the dead.

"I will wait for you, my lady, for your return to the castle," the wagon driver said, no doubt wishing to seek her favor.

Avariella was tempted to refuse, but she had no desire to make the trek back to Winterfell on foot or look for someone else to do the deed. He would have to suffice.

"Very well," she said. "I thank you."

Jeyna led her through the entrance, where two men were awaiting them. Avariella found that they had already dug a hole near the entrance, so they would not have to carry the body for a great distance. Avariella could not blame them for their unwillingness; they lacked, to her eyes, the muscle and strength she had seen with the workers in Winterfell, and they were both covered in a thick layer of grime and what appeared to be ash.

Jeyna murmured something to them, and they both went off in the direction of the wagon.

"Lilly and Lyra should be here soon, my lady," Jeyna told her. "With the money for the wagon and the gravediggers."

Avariella nodded.

"Jeyna," she began carefully. "Why do you call them lichyards?"

"I'm not quite certain," Jeyna admitted. "There's a lichyard near the First Keep, where the old Kings of Winter kept their faithful servants, and where the recent lords and now King also had some of their servants buried."

"I see."

And the rest of them, the ones the Kings and Queens and Lords and Ladies never saw or cared for, are buried here.

Avariella jumped at the sound of Max bounding over towards her, with Lilly a few steps behind him.

"My boy," she whispered, bending down to pet him.

Her eyes fluttered up to look at Lilly, whose eyes were red rimed and her bottom lip trembling.

"Lilly," Avariella said, extending out her arms. She saw the two gravediggers struggling with the body. Thankfully, Lilly did not turn to see it and instead flew right into her embrace.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered to the young girl. She felt something sticky and wet on the side of her neck. She resisted the urge to shudder and swipe at it, and instead tried to will her arms to remain steady.

The two men managed to place the body beside the hole with a huff, their faces red with exertion.

"Lilly," she murmured, pulling back from the embrace.

The young girl's tears had seemingly run dry.

"Lady Frey," Lyra said.

Avariella looked up to see Lyra approaching with Callin, Wylla and Old Rosa by her side.

"Lyra," Avariella responded. "I am sorry for your loss."

"Thank you," Lyra said, her expression pained. Her eyes drifted towards her husband's covered body and as if they sensed it, Callin and Wylla moved to her side to support her.

Lyra murmured something to them that Avariella could not hear and then moved to crouch beside her husband. She pressed a kiss to his covered forehead and then leaned against it.

Avariella looked away, trying to give her a semblance of privacy. Callin scooped up Lilly and the girl's legs wrapped around her waist.

Max whimpered softly from beside her.

"I know, boy," she whispered, looking down at him. "I know."

Old Rosa was looking at her with her hard, milky white eyes. Avariella resisted the urge to shiver. She didn't know what the old woman wanted from her, what she thought. She was unnerved by how deep her stare was.

We endure, Old Rosa had said a few weeks ago. We endure.

Avariella glanced at all the women around her; at Callin soothing Lilly's tears without care, at the way Wylla and Jeyna were crouched behind Lyra, both pressing hands against her back in comfort, experiencing her pain as though it were their own. At the way Old Rosa was there, standing with her cane, a steady, wise presence that reminded them: we endure.

In that moment, Avariella had no doubt they would.

It did not take a lot of time for the burial to finish. By the time it did, first light had begun to color the sky and Avariella knew her absence would soon be noted. She walked a little behind the rest with Max at her side. Lyra and Lilly were holding hands.

By the time they reached the wagon, there was a whispered exchange going on between Lyra and Jeyna.

"They won't let you, Jeyna," the former was saying. "You know the rules—"

"I'm sure they'll make an exception," Jeyna replied. "They know you suffered the loss and won't be coming to the castle today, and that the commoners don't want to open their winter stores just yet."

"I can't go to the castle Jeyna, I need to sort out Ashter's—" Lyra took a deep breath and then lowered her voice. "And they don't give out food unless you're the one there. No seconds for anyone and Lilly needs to stay home for a little while."

"Would it be faster for you if you took the wagon?" Avariella asked.

The two women turned to look at her, seemingly surprised that she was still there.

"I-I- don't have money to pay him, my lady," Lyra said.

"I do. Ride with me back to Winterfell with Lilly to make sure she gets some food in her at least. It's still early enough that not many people will be there and if you eat fast enough, you can take the wagon back to Wintertown."

"My lady, I can't possibly accept—"

"Yes, you can," Avariella interrupted. "But we must hurry."

There was a moment as Lyra visibly struggled as to what to do, before she nodded, her face grave.

"Thank you, my lady."

Avariella was momentarily uncomfortably.

"Not to worry, I'll speak with him while you get Lilly."

She walked to the man, who visibly straightened up at the sight of her.

"My lady," he said, jumping down to assist her.

"I don't know your name," she said.

"Marc, my lady."

"Marc, I need you to do something for me this day," she said. "I need you to take me and two others back to the castle and then take them where they need to go throughout the day. I will pay you when they return to Winterfell in the evening."

"Yes, my lady," he said, bowing his head.

Soon enough, they were on their way back to Winterfell, having said farewell to the others. Max was in the back of the wagon, curled up as he waited for the wagon to roll to a stop. They were all quiet.

Avariella, in truth, was rather surprised by the morning's course of events. She could not quite believe she had promised such a thing, regardless of her fondness for Lilly. She glanced at the girl over Lyra's shoulder. She reminded her so much of Shirei, in a strange way. Mayhaps that was why she was so protective over her.

She missed Shirei with a sudden ache and looked away. Now was not the time for such sentiments.

They arrived at Winterfell not much later then when Avariella would have normally risen, much to her relief. Marc waited as they hopped off, nodding at her as if to reassure her of his word.

Avariella did not much care for his reassurances, but she did care about Lilly and Lyra getting something to eat.

"Go," she said to them. "Eat quickly and be on your way. I will see you this evening."

"Thank you, my lady," Lyra said.

"Not to worry."

She whistled, and Max bounded off the back of the wagon and ran to her side.

Her gaze drifted to Lilly.

"You'll be alright," she told her, unable to help herself.

The little girl nodded, but otherwise remained quiet, as if stuck in a dream.

She watched as Lyra tugged Lilly away and it took her a few moments to snap out of her reverie.

"Gods," she swore under her breath, suddenly making her way towards the room where she and Lady Catelyn usually met in the morn. It took but a little time to arrive and Avariella was so hurried that she did not even have the mind to shoo away Max before she pushed open the door, the guards blinking a little at her abruptness.

She pulled up short at the sight in front of her.

The King, the Blackfish, Maester Bryal, and Lady Catelyn were talking amongst themselves quietly. They stopped at the sight of her.

"Your grace," she said, curtsying. "Ser, Maester, My lady. Apologies for the intrusion."

She wondered briefly why the guards did not stop her before she entered the room in such a manner. Mayhaps they thought she was approved to listen to this conversation.

"Lady Avariella," Lady Catelyn said. "How was your trip into Wintertown?"

Avariella felt her gaze flicker to Maester Bryal, who met it unapologetically. There was in truth no reason to be mad with the man, she had told him to explain where she had gone. But for some reason she was suddenly defensive over her actions.

"It was a little somber, in truth, my lady," she replied. "But I suppose it was nice to have a better look at the town. I saw so little of it on our arrival."

Catelyn Stark eyed her carefully. What? She wanted to say. I didn't go to WIntertown to drink and ignore my duties, Lady Stark. I went to a bloody burial.

"Burials are never a pleasant occasion," the Blackfish drawled.

As Avariella looked at him, she was struck by the sudden notion that they may force her to marry him, being the King's unwed uncle and all. Would he count as Northern now? She pondered, horrified at the possibility, since he now dwells in Winterfell?

She hoped not.

The King was looking at her intently. It took her a moment to notice, but when she did it was rather hard not to. It made her mildly uncomfortable, to have his blue eyes staring at her like that. It frustrated her even more that she could not tell what he was thinking.

"Is the family alright, Lady Frey?" he asked her, straight to the point.

Avariella hadn't been expecting that.

She repeated his words in her head, tried to pick out any hint of anger or outrage. She returned his gaze. He didn't look particularly furious.

"They are coping, your grace," she said. It was the most honest answer she could provide. She wondered what the Queen had told him – if the Queen had told him anything.

The King nodded, visibly processing this information. Her gaze moved about the room, observing everyone else's reaction. The Blackfish was merely staring at the King, Maester Bryal seemed mildly unconcerned – no doubt still angry with the Queen for going forth with the procedure – and Lady Catelyn's brow was narrow with disapproval. The longer Avariella stared at the woman, the more she realized how troublesome this situation was.

No one would have dared to say such things to Lady Catelyn, not even a child. Not even Lilly would have dared, she was somehow sure of it. Lyra would have had enough sense to stop her, if it had been Lady Catelyn there instead of the Queen. No one would have had such an outburst with the King or the Blackfish or Lady Sansa or maybe even Maester Bryal. The Queen had blurred the lines between her role as a healer and her role as a leader for these people too much.

Avariella remembered the tense interactions between her and Lady Catelyn in the carriage. She recalled how the men at the Twins hadn't even recognized who she was; had called her horrible things like a foreign whore.

My name is Talisa, the Queen had murmured last night.

Avariella felt something clench inside of her, deep down.

As if he read her thoughts, the King murmured: "Her grace is not feeling too healthy at the moment, Lady Frey. She needs her rest, and so you are relieved of your duties for the next day or two."

"Of course, your grace," she replied. "I hope she recovers swiftly."

She saw a flicker of emotion appear in the King's eyes. It disappeared so swiftly it may never have even been there at all.

Is my wife well? He had asked Avariella the night before.

It occurred to her that maybe the King and Queen's marriage had taken a hit too, these last few months.

She wasn't quite sure how she felt about that possibility.

Lady Catelyn proceeded with the rest of the day as if nothing had happened. She did not comment on her daughter in law's predicament, or how they were planning on dealing with it.

Because they had to address the issue somehow, did they not?

It would not do to have the Queen disrespected so openly, so publicly, without any form of penance or apology. If someone had said such a thing to her father, they would have been flogged. Avariella recalled her own harsh words to her father and while he may not have beaten her, sending her to the North and removing her from her home and remaining loved ones was a strong enough punishment.

The Starks did not strike her as the kind of people that would have anyone flogged, especially children. Yet, she couldn't imagine there being some form of public apology; the thought of the Queen sitting on some throne or chair as Lilly wept at her feet and begged for forgiveness made her distinctly uncomfortable.

She did not have the courage to ask Lady Catelyn. Something told her that would not have gone well. But still, Avariella was curious. She was also curious about the errands Lyra needed to do around Wintertown.

It was difficult to focus, and by the time midday rolled around her head was pounding.

Their discussion over the amount of grain they could store in the Broken Tower was interrupted by a knock on the door.

"Maester," Lady Catelyn greeted, lifting her gaze up from the notes they had both been taking.

"My lady," Maester Bryal returned. His jaw seemed to be working furiously. "I'm afraid it is Lord Rickon."

Avariella stiffened. What about the youngest Stark? She looked at Lady Catelyn furtively, saw the Lady stiffen a little as she nodded, as if recognizing what he meant simply by that.

"Very well," Lady Catelyn murmured, standing.

Rickon had been in good health, the last time she had seen him. Avariella felt her heartbeat quicken.

"My lady—"

"Lady Frey, if you would excuse me for a little while. Please feel free to finish jotting down the recent developments and then proceed as you see fit for the next hour or so. I should have returned by then."

"Of course," she replied, though really she wanted to demand what exactly was wrong with Rickon.

It took her a few moments to move after Lady Catelyn had left the room. She finished scribbling down the recent shipments of supplies that had arrived in Winterfell, and then made her way out of the room. She let Max bound off to somewhere to stretch his legs, having been cooped up with her for several hours.

She drifted, without quite realizing it, to the room where her and Lady Catelyn had assisted the seamstresses. It took her a moment to push the door open and she was strangely relieved to enter the room and spot Jeyna in the back, almost as if this morning hadn't happened.

The room was emptier than the last time she was in it, thankfully, and that woman who had seemed to be in charge was missing. She offered the few women who looked up at her nods, picked up a small quilt that needed mending from the pile and a needle, and walked to the back of the room, sitting beside Jeyna.

They worked quietly beside each other for a few moments.

"Thank you, my lady," Jeyna whispered. "For today."

Avariella felt her hands pause as she clutched the fabric.

"There is no need for that," she said, clearing her throat. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Not many would have done such a thing."

"If I could help Lyra do what she needs to do today I will," she replied quietly.

She felt Jeyna's eyes on her.

"Ashter was a good man," Jeyna told her. "He loved Lyra and Lilly. But he did leave behind debts that he was going to repay when he returned from the war. Luckily, he left Lyra with enough coin and grain to pay it off."

Avariella felt her heart drop.

"Will she be safe?" she asked suddenly. "Doing such a thing?"

Her mind flashed to Ser Trent, and she gulped.

"She should be. There are Starks now in Winterfell." Jeyna said, as if that was sufficient. Avariella was overcome with the sudden desire to send guards after them, to keep them safe, to prevent any man from Ser Trent from getting too close. She looked at Jeyna, remembered Wylla's scar and Callin's eye and she felt nausea rise in her throat.

Avariella was tempted to ask how Starks being in Winterfell changed anything. She wondered if that was why Jeyna and her mother had left the Bolton lands during the war, trying to seek the safety the Starks swore to provide, being the honorable men that they were.

My lady, what happened that night. . . it was not your fault. The blame is only his.

The King's words echoed in her mind, lessening her derision. It was a kinder response than many others, including her father, had given her over the incident. Avariella kept her gaze firmly on the task at hand, trying to ignore the worry quickening in her stomach.

It took Avariella a little while to search through the unopened chests piled in her tent to find a small pouch of gold coin to pay Marc. By the time she returned back to the castle, sunset had begun. Since she did not have to wait on the Queen, she was looking forward to returning to her tent after paying Marc and trying to write back – finally – to Roslin and Shirei.

She stood right where she had last seen the mother and daughter, and wondered briefly if anyone thought her strange, standing there like that with a pouch in her hands and Max by her side.

"My lady," Jeyna said, with Old Rosa at her side.

It was not that Avariella disliked the old woman; more than she unnerved her, with her white eyes and powerful silence.

"Hello," she returned.

She saw Jeyna's eyes briefly flicker to the pouch in her hands before lifting up to meet her eyes once more. She wondered a moment if they really thought she was not going to uphold her word. To be fair, she thought, they have no reason to trust me, like I have no reason to trust them.

Avariella whirled around at the sound of a wagon rolling in through the gates. She let out a loud breath at the sight of Lilly and Lyra, both visibly unharmed. Thank the Gods.

She moved forth as Lilly and Lyra hopped off, with the former being hurried off to receive some supper they were handing out to the workers and the town's inhabitants.

Marc smiled widely at the sight of her.

"My lady," he greeted.

Lyra noticed her at once and murmured the same.

Avariella opened her pouch and picked out a number of coin she deemed appropriate for his services.

"For you," she said, placing the money into his extended palm.

"Thank you, my lady," he said.

"You will escort them home safely after they all finish with their evening meal," she said.

"Of course, I was thinking of doing the same miself, my lady."

"As you will."

She glanced at Lyra, and simultaneously they both began to walk back to where Jeyna and Old Rosa stood.

"He did not do anything untoward, did he?" she asked quietly.

"No, my lady."

She nodded, and they continued the walk in silence. After Lilly returned with a bowl of stew and Lyra and Jeyna went to get some for themselves after Old Rosa claimed she wasn't hungry, Avariella found herself sitting beside the young girl on some smooth stones.

The more she watched the young girl, the more she noticed how strong she was, to be so put together after such grief. By the Gods, the girl was not yet ten. Mayhaps she was in shock, Avariella decided. Or maybe all these Northerners were used to death.

Lyra and Jeyna returned after a few short moments and Avariella rose so as to allow them to take her place.

"Please," she said, waving away their protests. She looked at the wagon, found Marc leaning against it. She turned her back to him as she returned her gaze to the women sitting below her. Her gaze lingered on Lyra, who was eating her food quietly. She looked solemn but the mere fact that she was eating, that she was out of bed, even, touched Avariella greatly. You're so strong, she wished to say. Stronger than I could ever be.

"Your grace," Jeyna said suddenly, rising.

"Wha—"

Avariella's voice died when she turned to find the King a few steps behind her. She saw the Blackfish over his shoulder.

"Your grace," she murmured. She heard the rest of the women behind them fumble up and curtsy after placing their bowls on the floor.

The King glanced at her.

"Lady Frey," he acknowledged. He stepped beside her. Avariella's gaze darted to Lilly, who had moved to her mother's side, clutching tightly onto her hand.

What are you doing? She wanted to ask him. Avariella wished to dart in front of the girl and hide Lilly from his gaze forever. Father always liked to take his time enacting punishment, didn't he?

Avariella forced herself to stand still.

"You must be Lilly," the King said.

Ashter must have told the Queen, for Avariella could not see how else he knew. I tried, the woman had said. I thought I was doing the right thing.

"Yes, your grace," Lilly said, in a small voice.

"That's a pretty name," he told her softly.

"You must be her mother," the King said, looking at Lyra.

"I am, your grace."

He seemed to ponder something for a moment.

"I'm sorry for your loss," he said finally. "The Queen is feeling rather unwell today, so she is unable to tell you herself."

"Of course, your grace," Lyra said. "We hope she makes a swift recovery."

"I'm sorry," Lilly said, on the verge of tears.

Avariella couldn't properly see the King's expression from where she stood.

"Grief makes us do and say things we cannot control," he said. He glanced at Avariella briefly.

Why you—

"I feel for your loss," he said. "I'm sure your husband was a brave and good man."

"Thank you, your grace," Lyra said, blinking back her watery eyes.

He's good, Avariella thought, watching him. He's very good. The perfect move, a public display of peace. Not too many people around, of course, but enough.

I have to write to someone, she thought. Not Lady Barbrey, perhaps. But Roslin.

She missed her sister with an ache. She missed having someone to confide in, even more now since she met Lady Barbrey and got a taste of what she lost when Olyvar—

I'll write to Roslin and Shirei tonight, she resolved, watching the King walk away.

And she did.

She was careful to restrain herself a little, especially when she wrote to Shirei. She described Winterfell as best she could, told her youngest sister about what she did. She even wrote to her a little about Lilly. I miss you, she finished. Tell me of your life at Pinkmaiden Castle more. All will be well, my dear Shirei. I am sure of it.

She wasn't quite sure she believed it.

Roslin's letter was harder to write. She was reminded of how close they used to be, how they confided everything to each other. She loved her sister, yes, of course. But she knew Roslin would disprove of her plot, of her scheming, and though she tried to includee as much detail as possible, it was not quite the same. So much of the weight on her chest remained and Avos-

I am happy for you Roslin, she wrote carefully, after going on for several paragraphs. More than I will ever know how to express. And I love the babe in your womb, boy or girl, never doubt that, despite everything. I will love every child you have.

The North is a harsh land, and the people pure survivors. I know not what to make of them. I fear I am looking for replicas in everyone I encounter – even with the little girl, Lilly. Does Riverrun feel like that for you?

I miss you a great deal and wish strongly for your good health. Write to me as soon as you can and stay healthy. She paused, before writing: Olyvar and I send our best.

It was the only time she mentioned their brother in the entire letter. A pang of resentment stirred in her stomach before she shook it away. Olyvar had forced this secret upon her and she could not tell it in a letter or at all. To anyone.

When Avariella fell asleep that night, her dreams were restless.

Two days later, when Avariella had finished her day's work, Lady Catelyn turned to her and said: "The Queen has asked for you."

The elder woman didn't seem too pleased about it.

"Oh," Avariella said unintelligibly. "I shall go to her at once."

Lady Catelyn nodded and offered nothing else. Avariella wondered a moment what exactly Lady Catelyn thought of her daughter in law now. Isolated, unloved – except by the King – widely disapproved of.

Avariella made her way to the King and Queen's tent. This was an opportunity, she knew it.

When the guards let her in to the tent, Avariella knew not what to expect. The Queen was sitting upright against the pillows on the large cot she shared with the King.

"Your grace," she said. She paused for a moment, feeling oddly stilted. "You sent for me."

The Queen looked nervous and pale.

"Yes," she said, sniffling.

A pause.

"I wished to say thank you," the Queen told her.

"Forgive me, your grace, but what for?" Avariella blurted out.

"Your actions two nights ago," the Queen replied gently. "You were most kind."

"I- that is generous of you to say, your grace. There is no need to thank me though."

"Isn't there? Not many would have been so courteous, Lady Avariella. I am most grateful for it."

Avariella could scarcely remember a moment where she felt as uncomfortable as she did then. She hoped it did not show. What was she supposed to say to that, anyway? I know? She could have laughed.

The Queen sighed softly.

"I know you must hate me," she murmured. "But you're perhaps the only person besides my husband who will be honest with me."

"And that's important to you? Honesty?"

"Isn't it to everyone?"

Avariella was not quite sure she believed her. Lilly, bless her soul, had been truthful, to a certain degree, in her criticism of the Queen, and she had not taken it well.

Would you have? A part of her whispered. If you'd done what you thought was right, and it didn't work out?

"I suppose," she responded finally.

The Queen did not look entirely appeased. She seemed to Avariella as overly fragile; her shoulders were slumped with defeat, her dark eyes constantly flickering every so often from place to place. Avariella felt as though if she touched her, the Queen would fall apart before her very eyes.

"I don't hate you, your grace," Avariella murmured, somehow knowing it was the right thing to say.

The Queen observed her a moment.

"I wouldn't blame you if you did," she said. "I –"

She stopped, flushing slightly.

Oh, Avariella realized, blinking rapidly. Oh.

Of course, the Queen would have hated the Frey girl the man she loved was betrothed to, distant and imaginary as she was. Who wouldn't hate the girl, the family, who her lover was forced to wed even though it would make him miserable and condemn him to a loveless life?

"We're all human, your grace," Avariella said. She was almost tempted to say we all make mistakes, but even she wasn't sure what she was referring to. Gods knew the Queen did not currently need any further blows.

"Talisa," the Queen said. "You may call me Talisa, if you wish."

Talisa. As if they were friends or sisters. Avariella knew not what to say. A swell of emotion had risen in her chest, making it difficult to breathe.

"You're the Queen," she replied roughly. She cleared her throat. "I do not believe that would be proper."

"Proper?" the Queen laughed a little, though it did not reach her eyes. "My lady, I hardly believe anyone would call my Queenship proper."

This was the first time the Queen did not sound entirely self-pitying and more on the lines of self-deprecating, like she was acknowledging the truth, but it did not cause her to fall into endless misery.

It gave Avariella brief hope, for one, that the Queen would finally make it out of bed and forsake this 'illness' of hers.

"If that is what you want, your grace," she said. "Then I shall do it."

The Queen frowned a little.

"I always forget," she murmured. "The power a Queen has." Avariella saw her eyes drooping as she suddenly struggled to fend off sleep.

"Come, your grace," Avariella said, moving to the bed. She helped the Queen settle down and lay her head on the pillows. "Rest, if you can."

"I always dream of them," the Queen whispered, her eyes closed. "I dream of all of them."

Avariella knew not for certain who the Queen was referring to. The patients she had lost? Loved ones? Perhaps both?

As Avariella gazed down at her, she felt something clench in her stomach.

She had always dreamed of Avos too.

There was a letter waiting for her when she returned to her tent.

It was too soon to have been from Shirei or Roslin and Avariella felt her heart skip as she ripped open the seal of House Dustin. Her eyes scanned the Lady Barbrey's writing hungrily, grateful to hear from a friend.

Dear girl, remember what I told you. I have faith in you. Write to me of your progress.

With regards,

Barbrey Dustin

Avariella let the letter fall onto the table. She knew not how to reply, how to begin to explain how things at Winterfell had changed so greatly in such a short duration. She was tired and confused as well. But writing to Lady Barbrey provided her with an opportunity not to censor herself. She had done so with Roslin and Shirei, and while she had no desire to tell the Lady about Avos, she could speak freely about her difficulties with the Queen, with no fear of judgement or derision.

Her mind made up, Avariella hesitantly reached for a piece of parchment and dipped her quill into the ink.

Dear Lady Barbrey, she began. I know not how to begin. . .

The next morn, Avariella had been given the task of seeking out one of the head stone masons to ensure he was completing his work as Lady Catelyn and her had dictated. The elder woman had made a comment or two about how this would be good for her, to take such things under her sole control. Avariella admitted that the Stark may have had a point, however little she liked it.

Alas, it was as she was walking through the grounds of the castle that she bumped into Old Rosa.

"Hello," she said, steadying herself. The old woman looked as though she had not even realized they had collided. "I did not see you. Forgive me."

Old Rosa did not respond.

"Rosa?"

Avariella sighed a little and began to walk away.

"What you've done for them," Old Rosa called out. "Lilly and Lyra. None of us shall forget it."

She paused in her steps, her muscles clenching as she turned to face the old woman. Avariella didn't want to say it was nothing; that felt demeaning and unkind, but that didn't make her want to act like some kind of hero, either.

"Northerners take care of their own," the old woman continued.

"I'm not a Northerner," Avariella responded, careful to keep her voice low.

"Maybe," Old Rosa acknowledged. "But you will be."

Old Rosa's statement did not bring her warmth or comfort her. Instead, it sent a shiver up her spine. You will be, the old woman had said, as if the erosion of Avariella's identity was inevitable. The remnants that remained of who she was in the South seemed to slip further and further out of her grip. She had been good, before Avos had died. Maybe a little self-absorbed, a little impulsive, but a decent enough person. She had been happy. Even the person she became after, grief-stricken and bitter, seemed far away, a distant thought that felt so removed from her Avariella could scarcely believe in that moment that that had in fact, been her.

Take all of that away, all those facets of herself, and she did not know what remained. Avariella felt a wave of sorrow wash over her; winter's seed would grow in her stomach until that was all she was; it would tear and wear away at her bones until her blood was filled with ice.

Avariella startled when Old Rosa patted her on the shoulder.

"Get some rest, child," she said. As if it were that easy.

Avariella opened her mouth, then closed it, and repeated that cycle several times.

"Have a good day," is all she said, before making her way to find that bloody stonemason.

Northerners, she thought. Will be the death of me.