Wife of the Wolf, Husband of the Sun.
Book 2
Chapter One-Hundred and Eight
It was a bright day, the light of the sun warmed all those that had gathered with in the courtyard of the Red Keep, there was a hum of noise as lords and ladies, knights and squires, kitchen maids and stable boys whispered to one another. It was not a thing that would ever happen in the court of the old king, Aerys had a habit of thinking every whisper was a plot, and no plotter was to be suffered to live.
For many, the shadow that the mad king had cast had already faded away, like it had never been there in the first place and yet Barristan Selmy had never allowed himself to forget, not for a single moment. He had to be ready, to see if the signs of madness would ever arise in the new king that he had sworn himself to. He prayed that it would not, but how many had prayed the exact same thing for Aerys?
But so far, Eddard Stark had proven to be everything a king should be in Barristan's eyes, honourable and just but never unkind or without mercy. He was a grim man, even after nineteen years of serving him he was certain that he would be able to count the amount of times he had actually seen him smile on both hands and still have fingers to spare.
He stood in the courtyard, his clothes of fine make but he bore no finery itself aside from the crown which many had whispered did not fit a king and a single golden chain around his neck which the knight knew was at the Queen's behest. The King's face was a mask as he stared out towards the gates of the Red Keep, waiting for what was to come.
At his side, as always, was the Queen. Garbed in a purple velvet gown with her red gold crown, studded with jewels and rings on every finger, a necklace of jewels around her neck. Barristan watched as the Queen reached out and took hold of King Eddard's hand, the two of them knotting their fingers together. It was another thing that was odd about the two of them, how willing they were to be affectionate to one another in public, and private.
Aerys had ever been disdainful to his sister-wife in private but he had made something of a show of doting on her in public, at least he had in the early years when his Father could still berate him. But no, it seemed to him to that King Eddard and Queen Elia adore each other both when there was someone to see and when there was not. Barristan was not certain if it was something to be glad for or not when it came down to it.
Standing behind the Queen there was her great legion of ladies, years ago, when peace was settled and it came time to rebuild Queen Elia had sent out many invitations to all corners of the realm to come and attend her and many corners of the realm had answered her. The Queen was quick to collect ladies, slow to dismiss them and she had worked hard to win their love, and loyalty.
Their were old crones in her ladies and young girls and all in between as well, from the North their was Dacey Mormont, heir to Bear Island, Alysanne and Cersei Umber two maiden aunts of the Greatjon, Abigail Starkhaven, the widowmaker who had taken seven husbands and none of them had lasted longer than a year and of course Leona Woolfield, who had accompanied her husband and daughters down from White Harbour.
Many Dornish ladies made up the majority of her attendants, Larra Blackmont ruled while her daughter learned to rule her house in Dorne. So to did Nymella Toland and Agnes Longspear, most of age with the Queen and many the first to receive an invitation to come to the capital as most had attended her when she was a girl at Sunspear.
Some kingdoms had not been quick to send their ladies to court, the Reach had sent a few but only a few. The biggest prize that the Queen could boast was that she had taken the wife of Garlen Tyrell as a lady, Lady Leonette Fossoway was one of the Queen's favourite attendants and with her she had brought her husband who was one of the king's few courtiers.
Other than her, Lady Graceford was the most powerful lady in the Reach that the Queen could claim as a friend and little lady Alysanne Bulwer had become the Queen's ward after her Father had succumbed to a fever that had burned through most of the Reach. The Queen of Thorns had not been pleased to hear of it and she had attempted to stop it with all of her influence.
But the Queen had outplayed her, she had gone to Lord Mace and had knelt before him and made a show of her fragile heart was breaking for the poor little girl who was now alone in the world and Lord Mace had been moved by the display, or at least he had been happy to see a Queen kneeling before him, so he had allowed the Queen to take the girl as her ward.
But the Westerlands had sent no ladies at all, the only lady who could be claimed to be part of the court was Princess Cersei, still here under the Queen's protection after all of these years. Barristan could not claim to know what was going through her mind but he was certain that if he was in her position that he would certainly be more grateful to the queen than she was being.
But the Princess had no gratitude, she did not attend the Queen. She only went to her when she was summoned by her and even then guards were needed to ensure that she did come when she called. Her rage was undying and time had not even dimmed it, if anything it had only served to make it all the more vicious, all the more engulfing.
The Queen bore it as well as she could, despite the fact that she had it within her to send Princess Cersei back to her Father with nothing more than a word she did not do so, all knew that Cersei could not return to Casterly Rock after her actions during the Grand Council but Barristan was always shocked at how ungrateful the other woman could be to someone who had saved her.
But were he to be honest he was more shocked that Queen Elia had not sent her away, he was fairly sure that even the most generous queens who had called the Red Keep their home would have done so, or at least would have punished her in some way or another but the Queen had simply smiled away every barbed jab and vile insult that Cersei had lain against her when she thought that she was being to subtle for the Queen to notice.
Princess Cersei was in fact in attendance, which was rare in truth but it was not as if she had much of a choice in the matter this time as the King had commanded that all the lords and ladies at Court be present for the return of Prince Torrhen from Dragonstone, It had been three years since the heir to the Iron Throne had been within the capital and the King and Queen wished for him to be greeted by a strong host.
Cersei did not seem at all happy to be in attendance, but she did not seem to be drunk either which Barristan supposed was something. She was arm in arm with Falyse Stokeworth, the two women thick as thieves as they bonded over their bitterness. Cersei for having her chance at true power lost, Falyse for being overlooked by Queen Elia for her aging mother and simpleton sister.
The entire royal family was readily awaiting the return of their absent member, Prince Torrhen's twin Mors stood to the right of his Mother. A man of slight build, almost as thin and pointed as the longbow he excelled in using. His eyes were dark and he bore a widow's peak like his uncle, the Red Viper of Dorne. Still, he preferred his books to weapons or women.
To the right of the the King was the eldest daughter, the Princess Rohanne. As always, she was dressed in grey and silver. The eldest daughter took great pride in wearing her Father's royal colours, her dark brown hair was bound into a braid that fell to the small of her back with silver wire with lapis lazuli's carved into small flowers.
Her sister was at her side, Princess Meria Stark was bold. None could every claim she was anything else, and were she anyone else other than a princess of the Realm it was unlikely she would be able to get away with half of what she did. Now, she wore a respectable dress of yellow silk but even that was not without it's daring.
The sleeves were cut away to keep her forearms bare, and her wild curls were not bound in a hair net. She was often comfortable wearing men's shirts and trousers and she would partake in hunts instead of simply attending them, using a Myrish crossbow that had been a gift from her uncle and carried knives in which she had learned how to use from one of her bastard cousins.
But for all the sisters were different, they could so easily win the love of people. Rohanne won it for being graceful and intelligent, she wrote poetry that could bring grown men hardened by war to tears and was skilled with the wood harp and the bells and the flute to bring forth beautiful music. Meria won it by being bold, she jested and flirted with men and easily made them laugh and she did not try to be anything other than who she was.
Like Rhaenerya before them, each had caught the attention of the realm and each was given a title accordingly. The elder girl was the Relam's Pride, the younger the Realm's Joy.
Standing next to her older brother was Princess Lyarra, named for the King's Mother. Barristan had to correct himself that she was technically a princess no longer, dressed in the white robes of a Septa the third eldest girl had taken her vows in the Sept of Baelor less than half a year ago. The King had tried to dissuade her from choosing the path but nothing he had said to her, nothing he had offered, could sway her from her choice.
She was not so widely beloved as her older sisters but she was well known in the slums of the city for her charity work, the Queen and all her daughters often took up charity works but Lyarra had always been the most passionate about it, scrubbing the poor's feet and reading to them from the Seven-Pointed Star like it was the only thing in the world that had brought her any true joy.
In her arms was the youngest son of the King, Prince Rickon had just turned five and yet he was more fierce than Barristan had been when he was twice that age. There had already been a few scattered occasions of the young prince picking fights with other boys at the court, many of them older and larger than him and despite the King's discipline of sending him to his room with no food for the evening and the Queen asking him for his word he would not do so again, it never seemed to stop him.
The last son was Prince Brandon, who did not cause as many headaches as his younger brother but his habit of scouring over the walls and climbing to the top of the tallest towers did bring it's own grief that probably added more than it's own fair share of grey hairs to his parent's heads.
But no doubt Princess Arya added her own as well, if she was told that she could not have it then that would not stop her. She stole into the armoury to pilfer knifes and morning stars, and once stole a horse from the stable. She made friends with servants as readily as with the highborn and caused a great deal of mischief through the castle.
Her uncle Oberyn found her to be quite a lark, and often encourage her despite her sister's repeated warnings for him to stop. But at times, Barristan was certain the King and the Queen found Arya's antics to be as amusing as he did.
It shamed him to admit that he almost forgot Princess Sansa in his estimations, she was a polite and dutiful girl to be sure but nothing that made her stand out compared to her sisters. She was graceful and wellread, but not elegant or bookish as Rohanne. She was pretty, but not as beautiful as Meria. She was pious, but not as devout as Lyarra. And...
Well, there was nothing about her that could be compared to Arya, in truth.
Barristan was drawn out of his observations by the sound of a horn cutting through the air and the castle gates were opened in response, moments later a horse thundered through the gates and the heir to the Iron Throne jumped off of it and made his way over to where the entire royal court was waiting for him.
"Father." Prince Torrhen spoke as he stood in front of the King and then bowed, his Father helped him back to his full height and wrapped his arms around his son. Of all King Eddard and Queen Elia's children he was the only one who could truly lay claim to a northern build of broad shoulders, though his colouring was closer to Dornish.
Once the embrace ended, Torrhen turned his attention to his Mother whom he held in a longer embrace and only separated from after he placed a kiss to his forehead. He spent some time speaking to his brothers and sisters, but none longer than with his twin. Both seemed to have tears of joy in their eyes at being reunited when he was done.
"But, there is some I wish you all to meet before we go inside." He smiled and then waved over to his own retinue and a tall woman was helped down from her own white horse. She was dressed all in red, red robes over a red dress. Her hair was red, and seemed even redder against her own pale skin. The ruby at her own throat burned with light and even her eyes seemed red to him.
Never a more red woman had there been.
"My Lord Father, my Lady Mother, may I present to you Lady Melisandre? A Red Priest of R'hllor, and my paramour."
End of Chapter One-Hundred and Eight.
This chapter was always going to be a shorter one as I wanted to set up the characters as we moved into the next stage of the story, I hope it was worth the wait at least.
Next chapter is going to be from Sansa's P.O.V and you're going to see how her different upbringing has affected her...and the child who, in canon, would be called Jon Snow.
Thanks for reading and coming back, with a ton of love,
DiscordantSymphony