Winter Is Our Fury

Chapter Forty Eight: In Due time

A/N     just a little trigger warning ahead in this chapter. Nothing dramatic happens, but if you are someone struggling and is easily triggered PLEASE skip ahead, I will mark the chapter so you can skip along and remember you are more than this.

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Aris felt horrible for the coming days, her stomach would twist horribly and she wanted to throw up. If what Ramsay told her was correct, Stannis' army would be marching on Winterfell soon and she wasn't sure how long she could hold on.

Aris paced the room fiddling with her fingers unsure of when was the last time she bled. "It's not true." she told herself. "It's late. It happens." she tried to convince herself. She took in a shaky breath running her hand over her stomach. She couldn't feel anything, so she convinced herself it wasn't true. But she had to be sure.

Aris marched across the room and wrapped her fist against the door several times. "Hey!" she called to the person on the other side. "Open the door!"

The door angrily swung back cousin Aris to stumble back as the person angrily entered the room, "What!?" spat Wyllim.

"On second thought, close it!" Aris pushed against the door trying to close it in his face.

"What do you want?" he asked easily holding the door open despite her attempts.

"I want to see the Maester."

"Why?"

"None of your business is why."

"I won't take you anywhere until you tell me why."

"I feel sick, okay, happy? Now will you take me."

Wyllim ran his eyes over her body suspiciously. He motioned his head for her to follow him and she sported a snicker in victory. Aris followed Wyllim out of her room while he guided her through the dimly lit halls of Winterfell, leading her to the Maester's quarters.

Wyllim knocked on the door and stood by to wait. Moments passed before the Maester opened his door, an old man, fairly tall and chubby. "What can I do for you?"

"The Lady is here to see you."

"Come in, come in." the Maester stepped aside to allow Aris into his quarters and Wyllim turned to step behind her, but she stopped and turned.

"Not you. This is a private matter only concerning the woman and the Maester."

Wyllim huffed and stepped back out of the room and the Maester closed the door, "I am Maester Wolkon, my lady. What do I owe the pleasure of your visit?"

Aris nervously licked her lips, "I haven't been feeling to well." she said casted a glance to the door knowing Wyllim was listening on the other side. "I believe I am coming down with a cold from being outside in the snow."

"Oh, of course, you poor thing." said the Maester with a smile and turned to his shelves filled with potions and remedies.

Aris approached his desk and took a quill and parchment. "I wouldn't want my husband to catch my cold." she said writing down on the parchment.

"I do believe I have something for you..." replied Maester Wolkon searching his shelves.

Aris eyed a scalpel on his desk and she quickly slid it up her sleeve before returning the quill back to the ink bottle and held out the parchment to the Maester holding a finger to her lips.

The Maester looked from Aris' pleading eyes to the parchment in her hands. He took the letter from her hands and read the words she wrote. I think I am with child. I haven't bled for a time. I know he is listening on the other side. Please, I don't want this child.

The Maester swallowed the bile in this throat and looked up to Aris and she mouthed the word 'please'. The Maester cleared his throat and rolled up the parchment and tossed it into the fire. Aris watched as it shrivelled up and burned into ash.

"Now, my lady, if I'm to submit any medicine I need to know your condition." he pressed his hand to her stomach searching for a bump. "It may be a bit too soon to tell if your cold will worsen." Maester Wolkon held a hand to his chin in a thinking manner and hummed. "Have you been feeling tired?"

"Yes, Ramsay is... difficult."

"Headaches?"

"Yes."

Maester Wolkon leant in to whisper, "Has your breasts swollen?" and Aris nodded. "The symptoms all match, I'm afraid."

Tears swelled in Aris' eyes and she shook her head, "Help me get rid of it."

"I don't have anything for that." replied the Maester. "I can only give you small doses to ease the cold."

Aris dropped her head, "Thank you, Maester Wolkon."

"Apologies, my lady."

"Don't tell." she mouthed and the Maester nodded his head saying. "I hear Stannis Baratheon is a day's march from Winterfell."

"I have faith my husband will defeat him."

"Of course, let me show you out." the Maester hurriedly opened the door to reveal Wyllim patiently waiting on the other side. "Good day, my lady."

Aris held a smile and left the Maester's quarters, leaving Wyllim where he stood and headed back to her own room.

She slammed the door behind herself and burst into tears. She held a hand over her mouth to silence her cries. She could not have this baby. She didn't want this baby.

****skip from here****

Aris collapsed to the floor and slipped out the scalpel she stole from Maester Wolkon. She stared at the blade and pressed her thumb to the edge and drew blood with a sharp sting. It was sharp enough. She turned the blade towards herself grabbing it tightly in her sweaty palm. She cried with shaky hands as her heart raced inside her chest.

It was selfish, she knew that. Sansa would suffer, she knew that.

Aris doubled over trying to find the strength to bring the blade to herself. She sniffled and sat up straight holding out her wrist and pulled back her sleeve. She held her breath pressing the blade to her skin but couldn't find the courage to drag the knife across her wrist.

"I can't." she released her breath.

****your safe now****

At the same moment her door opened and Theon entered with a tray of food. He saw her on the floor with tears streaming down her face and the blade to her skin. "No!" he shouted and dropped the tray, the contents smashed as Theon threw himself at Aris.

His body collided with her's and he tore the scalpel form her hands. "Get off me!" she cried and shoved him aside.

"Don't do it, my lady." begged Theon. "Please, I don't know what I'd do if you died."

"Maybe it won't be so bad." she wiped her face across her sleeve. "I'd rather die."

"Don't say that."

"Why not?! I trusted you, Theon! I trusted you to help me and you went and told him!" she shoved him again and he fell onto his back. "I trusted you to help us, and you told him... you're a traitor to my family. We had one chance to escape and you ruined it..."

"I'm sorry." Theon pushed himself to his knees. "I was trying to help you. You don't know what he's really like."

Aris looked away from Theon as a tear slid down her cheek. She couldn't trust him to say what was really wrong with her. He'd tell Ramsay. "Just get out."

Theon scrambled to his feet, collecting the fallen tray and broken cutlery before hurriedly escaping and Aris once more broke into tears.