the thaw. [arya stark]

xii. the terrible truth

CHAPTER TWELVE:

THE TERRIBLE TRUTH
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...VALERIA TARGARYEN'S RETURN TO Winterfell was a less than quiet affair. She'd arrived no less than a week after her encounter with death itself, and despite her reportedly frail condition, had strut into the great hall as confidently as ever — no sign of her worldly struggle evident beyond a crimson cut plastered across her left cheek, the constellations of bruises that littered her body made entirely invisible by her speckled fur coat.

Sansa had breathed a sigh of relief at the sight — but Arya had not been so convinced, quick to recognise the fear, and pain, that haunted the girl's violet eyes. She'd stalked after her as she'd left the Great Hall, bypassing her quarters entirely as she made her way to the kitchens — snatching the closest bottle of wine from a rather cluttered shelf and practically sprinting to the Godswood where she all but collapsed into the snow, raising the bottle to her lips, and downing half of it without so much as a break, or a breath.

Valeria had been so strong — so brazen — her whole life, unwavering in the face of all kinds of terror and abuse, yet now, something within her had snapped. What she'd seen beyond the wall had terrified her, and she could no longer ignore it — no longer compartmentalise, and suppress it like she so often had throughout the course of her tragedy—marked life. It was eating her alive — consuming her whole, and so, in the place of grabbing the nearest person and killing them — Valeria did what only she knew how to do when crossed by such terrible prospects — drink.

"You know, this godswood has been sacred to my family for centuries — it's said that Stark blood runs through the very roots of this heart tree. People travel from all over for the chance to simply sit and worship here." An all too familiar voice mused, and Valeria, whose recent, yet completely drunken state afforded her not even a scrap of surprise at Arya's sudden arrival made no effort to turn and face her, simply shrugging as she so instinctively challenged her;