Author's Note: This is my first GoT story. It's not strictly accurate in accordance with the events in the TV series (or books) but works for me! Not sure where it's going yet, but happy to take suggestions and constructive feedback.
The Eyrie
Alyssa Arryn paced hurriedly through the seemingly endless corridors of the Eyrie to her aunt and uncle's chambers. Having never been summoned here before, she knew something seriously out of the ordinary was happening. Her alarm was intensified with the quiet whispers of servants and guards whose numbers increased as she grew closer to her destination, causing her to speed up until she was on the brink of running.
As she approached the chamber door, an ear-piercing wail almost caused her to stop dead before breaking into a sprint; no doubt caused by her young cousin Robert. Forgetting her courtesies, she pushed open the great oak door and almost fell to her knees.
Her uncle Jon was lying on the bed, eyes glazed over and mouth slack. Her aunt Lysa was knelt next to him, gripping his hand, sobbing softly as her son clung to her side, wailing. Maester Colemon was stood to the other side, his right hand in motion to close the eyes of the hand of the king for the last time, head bowed in respect.
"Uncle?" Alyssa said in a low, quiet voice, inching towards the foot of the bed taking in the tragic scene before her.
"He can't hear you now, stupid girl," snapped Lysa, cradling her son as they wept together. "He's gone, gone!" The younger woman was taken aback by her aunt's harsh tone, no doubt caused by the loss of her husband.
"What – what happened?" asked Alyssa, addressing Maester Colemon who had stepped back, allowing Alyssa to take Jon Arryn's other, cold hand in her own. Tears were pooling in her eyes, a small ache began to appear in what felt like her very soul.
"He fell ill whilst travelling back from King's Landing, my Lady. He was brought straight to bed and given medicine, but alas there was nothing that could be done. I'm so sorry," he replied. Alyssa stroked his rapidly cooling hand before stepping back as her aunt rose.
"Maester Colemon, please send a raven to the King. I'll write my sister," instructed Lysa, her voice trembling as Robert still clung to her skirts, tears freely running down his pale sickly face. The Maester nodded and left to carry out her bidding.
The newly widowed Lysa Arryn turned her attention to Alyssa, who was still stood back in shock. "I'm sorry Alyssa. I know how close you and my husband were. Please, take Robert to his room. I have matters to attend to," Alyssa nodded as the boy leapt from his mother to her, immediately wetting her simple grey dress with his tears and snot.
They walked together to Robert's room in almost silence, followed discreetly by Ser Albar. Upon lying on his bed, Robert proceeded to have a small fit and wet himself, an occurrence Alyssa was used to as she held him and instructed the servants to clean up the mess. She stroked his head and spoke to him in a low, soothing voice until he eventually fell asleep.
That was when Alyssa's tears really began to flow.
Winterfell
Upon receipt of the raven's message, Catelyn Stark left the stone walls of Winterfell's castle to find her husband. She had an idea where he might be and she was correct; the Godswood, kneeling by the heart tree deep in prayer.
She waited respectfully for some time before he slowly arose, turning to smile at her.
"Cat, have you been here long?" he asked, rising to greet her.
"I come bearing news Ned, Jon Arryn is dead," her husband's face fell as he took in the news of her brother-in-law's demise.
"I'm sorry," he said softly, kissing his wife's hands.
"Ned, there's more. King Robert is on his way up from King's landing. No prizes for guessing what he wishes." Eddard Stark rolled his eyes, it had been a long time since he had seen his good friend Robert Baratheon and it would be no coincidence that his visit was timed just after the death of his hand.
"OK, I'd better start preparations. Anything else?" he enquired, looking back towards the castle.
"Well yes, there is another thing. Jon's seventeen year old niece Alyssa was staying at the Eyrie to keep Lysa and young Robert company whilst Jon was at court. Lysa says she feels the girl will be safer here and has asked if I'll take her on as a ward, of sorts," Lady Stark took a breath as her husband nodded and shrugged in agreement.
"I don't see why not," he replied, mentally planning where she would stay, especially with royal guests soon to arrive.
"And has also suggested a possible betrothal to Robb," finished Catelyn. Ned frowned. Yes, house Arryn was a noble family, but a diminishing one with the death of Jon and it was unlikely his son would last into adulthood. There seemed to be no obvious political gain from the match.
"Well, I don't think there's any need to arrange anything official but if they like each other, who knows?" he replied with a smile. "When's she due to arrive?"
"I'd imagine within the next week if the arrival of the Raven is anything to go by,"
"Have a room prepared for her arrival. I'll deal with the royal arrangements," Ned kissed his wife and together they returned to the hustle and bustle of Winterfell proper.
The Eyrie
Alyssa had been angry at first when Lysa had informed her she was to be leaving for Winterfell the morning after Jon Arryn's death. She felt she had not yet had time to allow recent events to sink in, and was very reluctant to leave her cousin when he and her aunt were in such an emotionally vulnerable state. A knock at the door interrupted her as she gathered the remainder of her personal effects, including a few books of her uncle's.
"Alyssa, may I come in?" Lysa poked her head around the door.
"Of course, I'm almost ready for Mya to load everything up," she gestured her bags on the bed. Lysa walked in and put her arm around the girl, both of their reflections appearing in the looking glass of the dressing table. Alyssa was wearing a forest green gown with long bell sleeves, a sweetheart neckline and silken cord nipping the dress in at her small waist. Her shoulder length brunette hair was pinned up in a bun, a few stray pieces framing her face and occasionally getting in her hazel eyes.
"You are a very pretty girl, sweet thing," cooed Lysa, taking the opportunity to admire her own fading yet still beautiful looks. "You'd do much better somewhere like Winterfell than this lonely place," Alyssa wondered what her aunt meant. Surely there would be more opportunity in King's Landing; especially being the niece of the former hand but was too well brought up to raise this observation.
"It will be nice to see your sister and her children again," she remarked, "and I'm sure there will be opportunity to meet others my age,"
"Yes, you must give me her best. And the children. My, I bet Robb's growing into a handsome young man," she sighed wistfully. Alyssa glanced at her sideways, wondering if there was anything more that casual speculation in that comment.
After saying heartfelt goodbyes to Lysa and Robert, Alyssa was mounted on a mule ready for the ascent from the Eyrie. She wasn't a fan of this journey, in particular the long bridge and couldn't wait to be back on solid ground. When they eventually got there, she changed onto a more appropriate mount for the long journey ahead. Although no stranger to the saddle, the thought of a week's travel felt daunting to Alyssa, though secretly not as daunting as arriving in Winterfell.
