good dirt | arya stark

eight: godswood

     Irene Tyrell wasted no time at all booking it out of there once the small meeting was adjourned. There was a time in her life where she was concerned with people thinking she was rude, but this was not that time anymore. It could be seen as a sign of someone who wasn't a team player (she wasn't), it could be a sign that she didn't want a partner, or a friend. But now, all she could think of was getting away from that disgusting man, even if every bone in her body broke once she sat down. Even if she passed out after she was away from him, at least she was able to get away.

   She coughed as she wandered around Winterfell, her guard trailing right behind her and she went straight into the holy godswood. She knew that she technically had no business there, but in that moment, any place without a person present was where she was going to be. She got as close to the tree as she could before collapsing, gearing up to start her tears.

She clutched her chest as she fell to her knees, remembering that horrible time and all the pain she went through. She put both hands over her face as she tried to hold in her sobs.

"My Lady," the soft voice of Eris came to her, only a few feet away. His presence was light and soft, as airy as a cloud, but it was still too much. She needed to be alone, and there was no way around that. She shook her head slowly.

"Please, Eris. I need time to myself, please." Her voice was clear enough to understand. He bowed to her behind her back and walked off slowly, aware that no one would harm anyone in the Godswood of Winterfell. She would be safe there, and she just needed time.

Irene Tyrell sat there, tears in her eyes but never quite falling. She cursed herself at her stupidity, at believing that one night and one bag of money could save Sansa Stark, the girl who was already doomed and already had a ticket out of Kings Landing. She cursed herself for believing that Lord Baelish was a man that was worth looking up to, and she cursed herself for thinking of Cersei in the same way. She thought of things that she hadn't thought of in months.

She thought of Margaery and how beautiful she looked before going to her wedding ceremony with Tommen Baratheon, how excited she was. Deep down, she always respected Margaery. Not even for playing the game of thrones, but for being kind, and hopeful, and not spiteful. She was a sweet queen, not someone who deserved to be killed in the manner that she was.

And Loras, poor Loras. He didn't deserve to be mutilated, especially not on his face, for his sexuality. He didn't deserve to be jailed and be forced to repent, to atone. He did nothing wrong, and neither did Margaery. Loras just wanted to serve his love, Renly. Loras just wanted to be a knight, the knight, known as the Knight of Flowers. Loras just wanted to live, and Cersei took that from him.

Grandmother. Grandmother Olenna, who was the source of every Tyrell's spunk who came after her. The trait seemingly missed their father and went straight down to his own children, who all inherited a little more than the other child before them, whether they hid it well or not. She was cunning and wise, but she was honest. She was real, she was strong, and she was true. She was a good woman with a sharp tongue, a true rose of House Tyrell. Irene just knew that wherever Olenna was, she was scolding her with her siblings for leaving behind Highgarden, for riding North to be with the wolves.

She was a rose with the wolves of winter, and that was fine. When the mockingbird came into the picture, her world was rocked yet again.

§

Irene was out of her room for a walk when she heard two women arguing. One voice was extremely distinctive, and the other was one that she was slowly learning. She walked closer, trying to see who exactly it was in the squabble before stopping in her tracks upon identifying them. Sansa and Arya Stark stood there on some sort of wooden balcony, arms crossed or hanging limply depending on the girl. She only watched for a few seconds before walking away, leaving them to their sisterly debate. She knew how those went.