Author's Note: This idea was buzzing around in my head for a while now after watching the White Queen. Alysanne is based off a few of the women from the War of the Roses, as many of the women from GoT are. Renly is still gay in this fic and I have no intention of making him anything but, although the relationship between him and Alysanne will become quite tender and warm in a friendly way. This story will contain a cousin/cousin relationship later on, and it will be clear when it begins. Hope you like this chapter, and please tell me what you think!

Family Squabbles

Alysanne glared at the embroidery in her hands. It was skilfully made – a work of art, if she may say so herself – but it wasn't as good as Sansa's.

As of late, Ally was constantly comparing herself to her younger sister. Perfect, pretty Sansa was going to become queen. She wasn't fool enough to think that Prince Joffrey was going to be a good and kind husband, but she believed that having a crown placed upon her head was payment enough.

Sansa giggled with Jeyne Poole about the crown prince, causing Alysanne to roll her eyes. She should have been the one marrying Prince Joffrey. She was older, and much more regal too. Sansa, though a lady, was too girlish and immature to be queen. Alysanne knew that she would have been the better choice.

Did Joffrey not find her pretty enough? She wasn't ugly, nor unshapely. However, Ally found her neck to be too long and wide, whereas Sansa was the epitome of female perfection and beauty in every way humanly possible.

"Ally?" her youngest sister whispered urgently from the other side of her. Ally moved her head to look at Arya, who glanced around frantically. "Can you help me? Like you used to? Septa Mordane isn't looking... Please, Ally."

She exhaled heavily and looked over her shoulder. Indeed, Septa Mordane was chatting with one of the serving girls. It wasn't proper, and it was deceitful. She was about to refuse, but when she saw Arya's desperate and pleading expression, Ally felt her words turn to ashes in her mouth.

"Alright," she replied, and swapped Arya's needlework with her own. She hastily began to salvage her messy needlework."But let's not make a habit of this, shall we? You're a lady, Arya. You must learn how to sew."

Arya looked ready to argue, but decided against angering her eldest sister. Ally didn't think that she was too frightening when she was angry. Instead of yelling and loosing her cool – as a lady never should – she chose to ignore the person who angered or hurt her. Though it wasn't always easy.

"That's not your work, Alysanne," Sansa observed, scrutinising the piece of material in Ally's hand. "Did you swap with Arya? You know that Septa Mordane won't be happy."

"Then she won't find out unless you tell her," Ally said lowly, a threatening tone in her voice. "Which you won't. Because we're your sisters."

Sansa pursed her lips together in a thin line that made her look like their lady mother. The resemblance between Sansa and Catelyn was uncanny, though Sansa's hair was a few shades lighter and her skin was whiter. Arya had inherited the Stark look, with dark brown hair, grey eyes and a long face. Jeyne Poole would call Arya 'horseface' behind her back, but one look from Ally would always silence the insolent, mean girl.

When Septa Mordane was finished talking with the serving girl, she came over to the girls and inspected their work. Sansa's was met with praise, as always, and Jeyne Poole was given a nod, which she seemed to take offence from.

The septa inspected Ally's work, her eyes narrowed. Ally's heart pumped madly in her chest. What if she told Father? Arya was the bad child, not Ally. She had only ever done as she was told, except for this one thing, which she had done many times. But Father valued familial loyalty above all else. He would understand, wouldn't he?

"Your needlework is messier than usual, Alysanne," the septa commented, handing Ally the piece of cloth. "More concentration is needed."

She let out a breath she didn't know she had been holding, and shared a thankful, relieved look with Arya. Septa Mordane inspected Arya's work next with surprised, slightly amazed eyes. "Good gods, Arya. You've improved! I never thought I'd see the day." A rare smile came upon her usually stern face as she gave Arya 'her' needlework. "Your father will be delighted to here about his."

What would Septa Mordane think, Ally wondered, when tomorrow Arya's needlework was the exact same as it had been before? It was years since Ally had received actual praise from Septa Mordane. Only mummers required praise, she reminded herself. A lady of the House Stark had no use for it.

Once Septa Mordane had left, Arya turned to her sister and whispered a quiet 'thank you,' to which Ally didn't respond.

"War was easier than daughters."

I haven't caused you any problems, Ally was tempted to say, bur stopped herself when she realised that it sounded disrespectful. Proper ladies didn't speak unless spoken to, and proper ladies weren't rude to their fathers, as Sansa had been. Somehow, Sansa managed to twist it so that their father and Arya were the only ones to blame for her wolf's death. Joffrey, of course, was innocent of all crime.

Poor Lady was killed on the road to King's Landing, when Arya's wolf – Nymeria – attacked Joffrey, though in Arya's tale Joffrey was terrorising the boy she had been swordfighting with. Since her wolf had ran away and Cersei Lannister wanted vengeance, Sansa's wolf was executed by their father.

Ally was thankful that they hadn't found her wolf. She had made no effort to hide Joy, having not known why the travelling party was called to the hall, but Joy, luckily, chose that night to go hunting a few miles into the woods.

Sansa resented Arya for being the reason she lost her wolf. And she hated their father for being the one to do the deed.

A heavy sigh escaped her father's lips, tearing Ally from her thoughts. "There is something I must tell you, Alysanne." She looked up from her meal and at the King's Hand. With a small smile on his lips, he laid his hand on top of hers and gave it a squeeze. "You are to be wed. The King has arranged a marriage for you and desires for it to happen soon."

She would have considered it to be joyous news, had it not been for the smile her father wore. It was a kind smile, as his smiles to those he considered family often were, but it was laced with sympathy. "Who am I to marry, Father?" Ally asked, trying to disguise her worry. Her mind raced with horrible potential husbands.

"The King's brother," he told her. Only one of the Baratheon brothers remained unwed. Ally's worries were soothed. "Lord Renly."

Ally suppressed a smile. She had only spoken with Lord Renly once, and even then the words they exchanged were simple pleasantries, but he seemed kind enough, and definitely charming. Some said that he was identical to a younger King Robert, though not as tall or muscular. Ally thought him to be very handsome, and was delighted with the prospect of marrying him.

"When will the wedding be?" she inquired. A part of her hoped that she could get to know Lord Renly before their wedding, but she knew that many couples only met on their wedding day. At least she knew what Lord Renly looked like.

"In a few days. At most a week," her father answered. Ally's jaw fell slightly, though she quickly closed her mouth and regained her composure. "The King wills it to be in the next week. Your engagement will be announced tonight by the King."

"But why does his Grace want it to happen so soon?" Ally asked, furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. "What's the rush?"

"I don't know," her father said quickly. Too quickly for it to be the truth. The sympathetic look in his eyes was sparked again as he gave his daughter a small smile, laced with the very emotion she hated. "You'll be the Lady of Storm's End. One of the most powerful seats in Westeros. That's all that I know."

Ally narrowed her eyes at her father suspiciously before calmly asking, "Father, is there something you're not telling me?" He pursed his lips and frowned. "Has Lord Renly been involved in some sort of scandal?"

"No, sweetheart." Her father stood then, and kissed the crown of Ally's head. "I'll send a seamstress to get you fitted for your wedding gown tomorrow."

She stared after him as he left, tempted to call after him. Marriage was for life; until his life ended or hers. She didn't know what she was getting into by marrying Lord Renly. That secret of his – the one her father was so reluctant to speak of – could be small, barely worth mentioning, or it could be huge and able to ruin her life forever.

That night at the feast, Ally had difficulty tearing her eyes from Lord Renly, though she tried to be subtle. The King had yet to announce their betrothal, and didn't look as though he was going to any time soon. He was too occupied by drink and the serving girl to think about anything other than the wench's breasts.

Renly was talking to Ser Loras Tyrell, the Knight of Flowers and the youngest son of Mace Tyrell. The King's brother was dressed finely, as always, in a doublet of blue that matched his eyes and was trimmed with gold.

"You seem quite taken with him," Sansa whispered into her ear as she giggled girlishly. Ally rolled her eyes at Sansa's foolishness, but smiled nonetheless. "I can see why, of course. He's so handsome. Not as handsome as my Joffrey, but still..."

In Ally's opinion, Lord Renly was much more handsome than Joffrey. He was a man, whereas Joffrey was a spoilt little boy. Lord Renly wasn't famed for swordfighting, but he looked more of a man than Joffrey could ever wish to be.

All of a sudden, the Knight of Flowers stormed away from Lord Renly, his face red from rage and his features twisted in anger. His glare landed on Ally, looking at her as though she was reason for all of his problems. When she looked back at Lord Renly, she found him looking back at her, seemingly worried, before he ran after Ser Loras.

"What happened?" Ally asked her sister, though she knew that Sansa had as much of a clue as she did. "Why did Ser Loras storm out like that? And why did Lord Renly follow him?"

The courtiers surrounding them began to whisper furiously. One of the ladies, Lady Stokeworth, said to her husband in a louder voice than the others that Renly and Loras were having a 'lover's quarrel.' Some of the other, quieter whispers said similar things.

At this, Ally shared a look with Sansa. Her sister tilted her head to the side and looked at her with such sympathy that it made Ally's stomach churn. She shook her head vehemently. "No. No. Renly is not in a relationship with Loras Tyrell. Father would tell me. He wouldn't let me marry someone who likes boys."

"Perhaps Father isn't as noble as we once thought he was, Ally," Sansa said, her expression darkening. "He executed Lady, my innocent little pup, because the King asked him to." Tears filled Sansa's bright blue eyes as she choked on a sob. "Is it so unbelievable that he would lie to you so that you'd marry Renly and keep the King happy?"

She saw her father at the main table chatting to the queen and looking like he'd prefer to be anywhere else. It was every person's duty to make sure that the King was happy, as her father knew very well. But she trusted her father to stand up to the King if her happiness was at stake.

"He wouldn't put my happiness at risk, Sansa," she affirmed sternly, trying to convince herself more than her sister. "The situation was different. Marriage is for life. Once you've said your vows there is no going back."

"Once Father drove his sword through Lady's neck there was no going back," Sansa reminded her sadly, and then scoffed. "Not that you'd understand. You still have your wolf."

Ally huffed, but chose not to anger her sister further. The Great Hall was becoming quite stuffy. It was strange, though, that such a large room could be filled so easily by people.

Lord Renly slipped back into the Hall. King Robert stumbled backwards as he removed his hands from the serving girl and rose his goblet to his brother. "Renly! My brother, soon to be wed!" The Master of Laws' face turned a bright shade of red. He seemed flustered from his talk with Ser Loras. The King drunkenly staggered over to Lord Renly and slapped him on the back. "Lords and ladies, it seems that I have to break all your hearts by announcing the marriage of Lord Renly of the House Baratheon to my Hand's daughter, Lady Alys of the House Stark!"

He got her name wrong. Ally's face became as hot as Renly's as she glanced uncertainly over to her father, unsure of what she was supposed to do. Her father gestured for her to stand, but Ally wasn't sure if he meant to stand or to go over to the King and Renly. Why hadn't they sorted this out before the feast?

Sansa pushed her out of her seat forcefully, and Ally stumbled to stand up straight. The silence that occurred within the next few seconds felt heavy and awkward, and like more than just seconds. Her eyes danced from Lord Renly and the King, to her father, and then to Sansa and Arya before going back to Lord Renly and the King. Was she supposed to do something? To smile? To say how pleased she was about her impending nuptials?

Just as she opened her mouth to spill her empty courtesies, the King's voice boomed loud throughout the Hall. "In a week they'll be wedded and bedded! Looking forward to that, eh, Renly?"

As the King elbowed him good-naturedly, Lord Renly laughed along with the rest of the court. Ally smiled shyly at him, and her stomach leapt with joy when he smiled back.