Carliene Stark

Chapter 66

Carliene

A week after her death, Walda's bones were wrapped in red satin and placed into an intricately carved box. Her handmaidens and servants gathered around the carriages that would transport all of them back into the Riverlands, so that she could return to her family. There was great turmoil on the courtyard as dark clouds were rolling in from the west and the party was eager to leave before the storm was upon us.
I stared at the box as a freshly knit blanket of the Frey and Lannister sigils was draped over it. I could not fathom how such a small crate could hold all that was left of a life. 

"What of the child?" I asked Brayla as I stood with her and Ser Oliver a little off from the crowd. 

She shook her head gently not taking her eyes off the departing party. "It was a Lannister, I assume it will have been put to rest in the Lannister crypts" 

"But they send Walda back?" 

She straightened "The castellan willed it"

"Surely the girl's family will see it as a great insult" Ser Oliver muttered. 

I tore my gaze off the wagon and searched the crowd for Daven's greasy mop of hair. I finally spotted him up on the balustrade and he was staring right at us. A cold shiver crawled over my shoulders but that could have just been the cold wind that was picking up.

"I hope they do" I stated as I held the castellans stare across the yard until he broke it and turned to one of his men. With a small feeling of accomplishment I turned to watch the Frey guards mount their horses and the last servants placing provisions on a wagon. 

"Should we head inside?" Brayla offered as she put up her hood, looking towards the west nervously. 

How fitting the weather was, gloomy and brooding. The air itself seemed to grow heavier with the feeling of dread. It mirrored what I felt. Disturbed that it was common practice to burn a body down to its bones and then send them across the lands like some kind of trinkets.
Father ended like this, I thought suddenly and the realisation caused my cheeks to heat up with despair. Grandfather and both my fathers had returned to Winterfell as bones. Had Robb ever made it?
Winterfell was burned down silly, so you'll never have the chance to return even as bones.
I whipped a tear from my eyes, trying to compose myself.

Brayla got hold of my hand and squeezed it gently. "She's in a better place now" she offered trying to cheer me up, clearly thinking I was crying because of the dead Frey girl. 

"We should have brought her flowers" I pointed out sniffling. 

Ser Oliver cleared his throat. "They wouldn't do her any good anyways" he pointed out.
It was the truth, but at the same time it felt like the saddest thing I had ever heard pass someones lips and I had to swallow hard in order to not break down in tears again. I had done too much crying these last few weeks.

We watched the party depart to the sound of flags noisily flapping in the wind and horses bickering nervously. The gates closed and the crowd was scattering, everyone eager to shelter themselves from the harsh gusts and approaching storm. Although Brayla urged us on a couple of times, we were one of the last to leave the courtyard.

"I feel it will be a terrible storm" the midwife said her eyes turned to the skies as she hooked her arm in mine, pulling me closer.

I had half the mind to shake her off, but it dawned on me that she was just trying to be supportive and maybe hiding her own terror. I was hoping for a big storm, one that would tear this whole rock down and burry all this Lannister red and gold under the rubble. 

"Well, the autumn storm are always the harshest" Ser Oliver, who was walking a few feet in front of us agreed. "And after all..

"Winter is coming" I mumbled absentmindedly and stopped as we reached a path from which we could glance the open sea and the black mountain of clouds crawling towards the land. Now and again the clouds were illuminated for a breath by the cold glow of lightning.