Chapter 12
~Garth Flowers~
Garth had stopped trying to figure out how Lord von Carstein knew that tree sap could be made into such a sweet tasting food. He had only been allowed a small taste in the kitchen while the rest of the staff had discussed culinary ideas but that had been enough for him to realize his lord wasn't some idiotic sellsword. At the very least he was an incredibly lucky idiotic sellsword but more likely was the possibility that he actually had a brain in his skull and had remembered a lesson from some woodswitch or forester in Essos who knew about the trick. Admittedly, the problem with that idea was Garth wasn't aware of maple trees growing anywhere in Essos but he hardly made a study of the continent and so could be excused for that bit of ignorance.
Regardless of its origin, the maple syrup was no longer something that required as much direct oversight from Garth now. One of the kitchen maids was married to a man named Bran who had grown up working at a lumber mill and therefore knew quite a bit about the local trees. Bran had even been somewhat literate and could do basic sums, meaning that once Garth had given the man a few lessons, he had been perfect to be put in charge of maple syrup production. So long as he occasionally looked over Bran's work, Garth was free of the anchor around his neck that the maple syrup project represented.
Unfortunately, just because Garth had gotten rid of one of his lord's foibles didn't mean he was free from the others. In fact, after informing Lord von Carstein about Bran, his lord had been even more insistent that he finish the moonshine still. If he had thought about it beforehand, Garth might have pretended he was still needed to keep things running efficiently. Contrarily, Garth was reasonably certain that the moonshine he had made was what his lord had in mind and he was genuinely curious to see how it turned out, hence this meeting.
So Garth stood in front of the still, in an old storage room in an unused corner of the Dreadfort, while Lord von Carstein, Lady Stark, and Martyn Cassel filed in. That those two were whom his lord had picked to accompany him for this taste testing made sense. As she was his not-quite-secret lover, of course he would want Lyanna's opinion on a new kind of alcohol to drink during their trysts. Martyn, as the castellan, was largely responsible for making sure the Dreadfort functioned day to day. Ordinarily, a castellan only took on those duties when the lord was outside of his holdings and unable to run the keep himself. Martyn should be focused on defense and maintaining order in the surrounding lands. Lord von Carstein and a steward (if he would name one) should be the ones ruling the Dreadfort. But their lord seemingly had little interest in the actual responsibilities that accompanied being a lord.
Never thought I'd complain about a lord being well read but he spends far too much time with stacks of books in his solar. An important part of ruling is being visible to one's subjects. Regardless, because of his lord's lack of interest in managing the Dreadfort, it would fall to Martyn to organize the eventual distribution of the moonshine whether for sale or in gift to others.
"Is it finally ready?" Lord von Carstein asked, closing the door behind him.
"That is what you are here to figure out, my lord. I've never tasted 'real' moonshine before so I have no idea if it is ready or not," Garth explained.
"A good point." When the mask was removed and his lord's grin became visible, Garth averted his eyes in a manner that hopefully appeared natural. What is he? Where is he from? The Shadowmen are known to always wear masks, maybe it's because they all have teeth like that? Is Lord von Carstein from Asshai? Actually. . . that would explain a lot. The city is said to possess all manner of forbidden knowledge, I bet some of their tomes must also have more utilitarian information. That could be where he learned about mapl- no, no no. That is a path with no end, I'm not going down it again.
Garth pushed those thoughts from his head, his focus was needed on the here and now. "Well, I have several mugs here. Let me just pour everyone some."
"I feel I should point out," Lord von Carstein said as Garth grabbed the pitcher of moonshine. "That if it was distilled correctly, these mugs are far too big for moonshine."
"What do you mean?" Lady Lyanna asked.
"Moonshine is strong. Drinking a cup this size will knock a grown man on his ass by alcohol content alone, to say nothing of the taste."
"Is it supposed to taste bad?" Martyn asked as he looked down at the mug Garth had handed to him.
"I've never been much of a drinker so my opinion may be wrong, but yes," their lord said as he looked at his own mug. "Hmmm. Well Garth, I can tell right away this isn't correct. Proper moonshine should be as clear as clean water."
Garth frowned and looked over at the contraption responsible for the drink. "Really? Maybe the seals weren't as solid as I thought and something got in?"
"How many times did you run this through the still?"
"Um. . . once. Is it supposed to be done multiple times?"
Lord von Carstein shrugged. "Not sure. I was just guessing that if it only did say, half the job the first time, running it through a second time should finish the job. Or maybe it will need to be sent through three, four, or even five times. That's why we're doing this, to experiment and find out how to do it correctly."
"Should we delay the tasting then?" Garth asked as he handed the final mug to Lady Stark and then picked up his own. "Or since it's in our hands. . ."
"Well put. Bottom's up!" Lord von Carstein said and raised the cup high, which they all copied.
As one, the group drank.
Growing up in the Arbor, Garth was well used to the taste of wine. He had tasted the juice at every stage of the process of the drink's creation. He had drunk vintages of different colors and ages. Moonshine was nothing like wine.
Is this what Aerion Brightflame experienced when he drank wildfire? Garth wondered as he hunched over in a coughing fit and tried not to drop the mug for it still had moonshine in it. The maester doubted his lord would appreciate him spilling the drink, regardless of how much it burned and how horrible it tasted.
As Garth stood back up his heart skipped a beat as he saw his lord grimacing. Oh no, he doesn't like the taste. . . wait, he said it's supposed to taste bad. So, good?
Martyn had a very different reaction. His head was tilted back and he was holding the mug directly above his mouth as the last few drops fell onto his tongue. "By the Seven, this is great! I feel so warm."
"It isn't terrible. I wouldn't mind having it with a meal," Lady Stark said before bringing the mug back up to her mouth to take a more dignified sip.
Of course it's the two native Northerners that like the taste.
"Feels like I just sucked the cock of a campfire," Lord von Carstein said.
Garth's eyes bulged at the comparison and Martyn actually laughed but it was Lady Stark who had the strongest reaction, she sprayed all three men with the moonshine. "Gods damn you Torrhen! I was drinking, couldn't you have waited another five seconds before saying that?!" she shouted as she coughed.
Shockingly, Lord von Carstein didn't respond to her outburst. Instead, he was sniffing his clothes with a slight frown. "Garth, what did you use to make this?"
"Apples, my lord. You told me you had once had moonshine cherries but those are far too expensive to use at this stage so I had to make do with a different fruit."
"Ooohhh, that might be the issue. Moonshine is made with corn or grain, typically. I must have not properly explained that story. See, once the moonshine is finished one trick to avoid drinking too much is to soak cherries in it overnight and then eat one or two of those. First time I tried one my whole face went numb, it was great."
Martyn and Lady Stark were looking at Lord von Carstein with suspicion but Garth didn't have time to think about that. He had to consider the ramification of what he had just been told. "If we ran the apple drink through the still again, would that improve things? Or should I immediately start on a corn based mixture? Should I flush out the still before starting the next batch? What about-"
"Garth, I'm glad you're getting into it and thinking up ideas," Lord von Carstein interrupted. "You have my full support to continue experimenting around to try and get it right. Martyn's too, from the look on his face."
"I would enjoy more," Martyn said in an embarrassed tone.
"And hey, even if the drinks you make aren't what I consider official moonshine, that doesn't mean we can't make use of them. Gifts to other lords or to servants who do a good job or something. Waste not want not."
"I - thank you for your continued faith in me, my lord."
"Of course Garth, of course. You did an amazing job with the maple syrup project, there is no way I would have accomplished that as quickly as you did and you're making good progress with moonshine. I'm glad to have you as a maester."
Garth was surprised at how much of an impact such a proclamation had. It wasn't as if Torrhen was a cruel or aloof man, he made an effort to be personable with everyone he talked to, and yet Garth still found himself standing just a bit taller at the encouragement. His lord was finally praising his work, Garth could honestly say he felt like a proper maester for the first time since he'd arrived at the Dreadfort. It was odd that Torrhen was praising Garth for maple syrup though, he still hadn't figured out a way to cut back on the reduction of the sap and his lord hadn't requested anymore meals with the syrup which Garth had thought meant Torrhen had lost interest in the food.
"I have a question," Martyn said. "You've said twice now that moonshine is strong and that it isn't to be served in normal mugs. But if you send this to Winterfell or White Harbor or wherever, what's to stop someone from drinking however much they want?"
Torrhen sighed. "Truthfully, nothing. . . hmmm. Unless we also include shot glasses."
"Shot glasses, my lord?" Martyn asked.
"Tiny cups that are only three fingers deep. They wouldn't be made out of glass, obviously. Or would that offend people's pride, expecting to drink from such little containers?"
"You can figure that out after Garth has discovered the correct method to making moonshine, I think," Lady Stark said.
"Probably. Maybe if we sold several versions and only gave the shot glasses out to people who buy the strongest? Make it seem even more prestigious. Oh oh, we'll call it Everclear."
"A very good name if I can manage to make moonshine worthy of it," Garth said.
"Right," Torrhen said as he handed his mug to Martyn, who happily drank what was in it. "Again, good job Garth, this was a fine first batch. I'll let you get back to it."
Garth reached into one of the pockets in his robes. "Actually, my l- Torrhen. A raven delivered a message for you this morning. Since I knew you were stopping by here and the message wasn't time sensitive. . ."
Maesters were supposed to deliver messages straight to their lords but with the moonshine tasting planned for today Garth had wanted to finish his usual duties as quickly as possible so he could come here to check everything. Combined with Torrhen's lackadaisical attitude towards ruling, Garth had convinced himself in the morning that it would be fine. But now that he was here looking at Martyn's scowling face, Garth knew it had been a mistake.
"Yeah no, makes sense," Torrhen said calmly as Garth handed him the message.
Even if he isn't mad about it, I still should have brought it to him right away.
Torrhen let out a long groan as he read. "Maege is asking me when I plan on visiting Bear Island. I told her in King's Landing it would be after a year. Has it even been six months?"
"It's actually been seven since we arrived," Martyn said.
"Really? Fuck my sense of time, I guess." Torrhen paused and looked at Garth. "That reminds me, how's the crop rotation been going?"
Right, that. "The corn has been harvested from both fields. I planned to have different crops for the second round. One will get squash and the other will be planted with cabbage."
"Sounds good. For the third round, make sure one field has um." He snapped his fingers repeatedly while staring straight ahead. "How am I blanking on this? Something we would use to make feed for animals. Clover? Oats?"
"You want to make extra food for the cows and sheep?" Garth asked in confusion.
"No, well not exactly. Crop rotation isn't just about swapping what you grow, it also matters which crops you switch between. Different plants have different impacts on the soil. Some will balance each other out, others won't."
Just because Torrhen had been correct about maple syrup, just because moonshine seemed to be turning out to be worthwhile, did not mean his crop rotation idea would work out. But Torrhen was adamant about continuing with the project regardless of whenever Martyn or Garth pointed out the futility of it. There was nothing they could do but continue along with it until it inevitably failed and they could only hope their lord would drop the idea once that happened.
He said he wouldn't institute crop rotation across his lands until it was proven to work. I'll take that as a victory and not push it.
"Very well, I shall be sure to make a note of it."
"Good. Anything else we need to discuss while I'm here?" Torrhen asked as he began affixing his mask back onto his face.
"I have something, but it's for just between you and I, Torrhen," Lady Stark said.
"I have training with the guards to oversee," Martyn said.
"One of the scullery maids was unable to work this morning, it was requested I take a look at the girl," Garth said in follow up.
Judging from his eyes, Torrhen seemed to be smirking under his mask. "Alright, you two can go. What's up Lyanna?"
It was an odd realization, that Garth had spent enough time around his masked lord that he was learning how to identify his expressions without seeing his mouth. Mainly because Garth hadn't thought that he had spent much time around Torrhen. Despite being Lord of the Dreadfort, a more accurate title would be Lord of the Dreadfort's Solar considering how much time he spent in the room, reading various books, books that no one else was allowed to read. I guess I'm just doing that good a job as a servant to a lord, learning how to read him despite not spending much time around him.
As the two men left the room, they could hear Lady Stark speaking, "Benjen was thinking about joining the Night's Watch. I told him-" Her voice became a muffle when Garth closed the door.
~Larra Blackmont~
If Larra wasn't able to secure a marriage with Stannis Baratheon, she pitied whatever woman did end up having to share his bed. Having been told beforehand what the man was like, she was able to at least get along with him though she still found him infuriating to deal with at times.
But if I hadn't been warned? Gods, there are so many times I've wanted to punch him in the face.
Stannis was blunter than a warhammer, he spoke his mind regardless of social niceties. The first time they had met, he had said he had no interest in 'a Dornish harlot only seeking to prevent her kingdom from receiving the punishment it's earned.' The Hand, Jon Arryn, had seemed inordinately pleased by the statement. Even if Larra hadn't been instructed to secure the marriage no matter what, she would have continued trying to woo Stannis just to spite the smug falcon.
Her persistence wasn't paying off exactly, considering Stannis still hadn't agreed to be her husband, but he did seem to respect that she kept trying. And she had definitely risen in his eyes when she explained the king's reasoning for giving him Dragonstone. Not only was he acknowledging Stannis as his heir but the Houses sworn to Dragonstone had been diehard Targaryen loyalists, Robert needed someone he could trust to bring them in line. Oddly, after she had told Stannis that, he refused to actually go ask his brother to confirm if she was telling the truth. Larra got along quite well with her younger brother, Mors, and couldn't imagine not talking to him if he did something that bothered her.
Now Larra was eating a small lunch in the solar of the Master of Ships. Normally, Stannis wouldn't have allowed such a thing but, on the advice of a recent letter from Sunspear, she had brought up the possibility of Dorne raising its own Navy to protect itself from raids from slavers and pirates. So she had official business she could talk to the middle Baratheon brother about while also trying to convince him they would be a good marriage match.
"I fail to see why I should ask the Master of Coin to subsidize the construction of a Dornish Fleet," Stannis said. "Arming one's enemies is the height of stupidity."
"We wouldn't be enemies if you and I were married. Dorne would be well locked into the northern alliance." As she nibbled on a scone, Larra could make out the unmistakable sound of grinding teeth. She considered that a good sign, it meant Stannis knew she was right but he didn't want to say so. "Not to mention, we aren't really enemies now. You desire an end to the war, we desire an end to the war. The only reason an official peace hasn't been declared is because we are still discussing terms."
"We would achieve peace faster if Prince Oberyn stopped dragging his feet during negotiations while you attempt to see me wed."
Okay, don't lie, don't deflect. Be straight and to the point.
"That's true. Alternatively, we would achieve peace faster if you would just agree to a betrothal with me. Prince Oberyn would quite quickly finish things and return back to Dorne, I assure you."
"Do you seek to hold the peace of the realm hostage until you're in my bed?"
Larra shook her head. "No, I don't want to blackmail you into it. That would doom any chances of the marriage being amicable for us. While I am unsure we will ever love one another I'd like to think we're both willing to put in the work to try. At the very least we would respect and potentially even like each other."
"You seem confident we would get along."
"I'd like to think I've gotten to know you fairly well over these past few weeks. You value competence. Well, what is the duty of a wife of a lord?"
"To bear her husband's children."
"Yes, but even smallfolk women can do that. What's specific to highborn?"
"She manages his household."
"Exactly," Larra agreed. "Inheritance in Dorne is not limited to men, as the oldest child of my father I was trained to take over Blackmont when he died. I do not wish to sound a braggart, but I did a good job when he went to war and continued to successfully run the holding after I received news of his death at the Trident. I am more than a broodmare with a pretty face, I can assist you as a proper wife should."
Stannis crossed his arms over his chest as he glared at her. "While your tongue is silver enough that you could sell snow to Northerners, what guarantee would I have that you wouldn't turn such a skill on me? Seek to use me to gain favors with the king for your family in Dorne?"
Any other woman would try to claim they'd never do that and he rightfully wouldn't believe them. Sooooo. . . "You'd have no such guarantee because that's absolutely something I'll do. Every man and woman has a duty to look out for their family. You could have stayed loyal to your king, but instead you chose your brother. If you agree to marry me, my brother will take over rulership of Blackmont and I will, of course, look out for his well-being. But that does not mean I will do so at your expense, because as your wife I have a duty to your well-being as well."
Stannis blinked in surprise and looked at Larra, really looked at her, as if he was seeing her for the first time.
"And the Dornish do take loyalty and duty to their family seriously. The only reason Prince Doran sent troops north of the Marches was because the Mad King held Elia and her children in the Red Keep. Otherwise, he would have kept them along our borders to protect our lands and our people."
"If they had been in Sunspear instead of King's Landing, he would have refused an order from his king?" Stannis asked in a tone Larra couldn't identify. For all his focus on duty and acknowledgement for one's action, Larra wasn't quite sure what Stannis' opinion on the Targaryens was. He could have hated them as much as Robert or been completely indifferent, she just couldn't tell.
"Which is more important? Duty to your king or duty to your subjects?" Larra asked. "What would have happened if Dornish troops had marched north only for the Stormlanders to swing south and burn our holdings?"
Stannis did not answer, he simply looked at Larra with a furrowed brow. He's not grinding his teeth so he's not silent out of anger. Mayhaps he's thinking over my words. She ignored him and resumed eating. Mmmh, these cream cakes are good. I'll have to make sure to get the recipe before I leave the city.
As she was reaching for her cup of wine he finally spoke, "How much of a dowry would you bring?"
~Alysanne~
Having completed singing the Bear and the Maiden Fair in her head for each finger on one hand, Alysanne carefully pulled the first tray of loaves of bread out of the oven.
The perfect shade of brown.Walder was right, that song really is a great timekeeper when cooking such large amounts of food.
Walder, the man in charge of the kitchens, had come from Winterfell along with the majority of the people now living in the Dreadfort. Because of that, he knew little tips and tricks to make life easier in a castle. Most of what Alysanne had been taught so far was various ways to cook so much food without making mistakes but there had been other things. Like how the smell of the privies could be worse depending on the time of the day due to overuse, if she didn't mind walking for a bit Alysanne now knew exactly which ones would be free for her to use and not stink over much.
"I hear Lady Lyanna has stopped going to Lord von Carstein's solar everyday," Alysanne heard Lyanna, one of the other kitchen maids, say.
"Think she finally missed her moon blood?" Arra, a young scullery maid, asked. "No point for her to keep visitin' if his seed has been planted."
Lyanna laughed. "Oh, how wrong you are. Find the right man and you'll learn there's plenty of reason to keep going back even if you've got a babe in your belly."
"Then I guess Lord von Carstein ain't the right man."
Alysanne quickly rounded on the pair. "Arra, don't be saying such things about our lord! Do you want to lose your tongue you foolish girl?"
Arra gave a nervous laugh. "I didn't mean nothing by it. Sides, it's just us women here, you wouldn't go tattling to the lord about a joke, would ya?"
"Oiy, don't be calling me a woman you daft cunts!" Walder shouted from across the kitchen.
How'd he even hear us? It's not like the kitchen is quiet, we're all in here working and making dinner.
"Why not? You damn sure don't have a cock between your legs!" Lyanna shouted back.
"Brandon never would have let me talk to him like that," Alysanne said.
She hadn't really intended for her comment to be heard, but she had apparently spoken loud enough for Lyanna to catch it, because she was grinning madly. "Walder knows I don't mean nothing by it because I keep going to him even when I've got a babe in my belly. I couldn't ask for a better husband."
"How he put a babe in your belly if he don't have a cock?" Arra wondered.
"Of course he's got a cock, just because I say something doesn't mean it's true," Lyanna said with a shake of her head.
Arra was silent for a moment, seemingly thinking over Lyanna's words. Alysanne was about to start slicing some of the bread when Arra spoke, "Think Lord von Carstein has a big cock?"
"Others take you girl, stop talking!" Alysanne hissed through clenched teeth at the same time Lyanna cuffed Arra across the back of the head.
"You're lucky your mother asked me to look out for you," Lyanna said harshly. "Get back to work before you get us all in trouble."
"And I thought my girl didn't know when to shut her mouth," Alysanne said once Arra had walked off to clean some of the cooking pots.
Lyanna sighed. "I hate to say it but Arra has a head that's fit for naught but storing hay in the winter."
"Still, you think she was right?" Alysanne asked. "Not about. . . that, about Lady Stark missing her moon's blood."
"Honestly? I don't think so." Lyanna shook her head as she started cutting up some vegetables. "He's the lord of the castle, she's a noble lady. They both have large bedrooms, why would they do it in his solar? Just doesn't seem comfortable."
Alysanne found herself agreeing with Lyanna's reasoning but that just raised more questions. "So then why did they meet in his solar everyday? And why did they stop?"
"Couldn't say. I've never even spoken to our lord," Lyanna trailed off in a manner that very clearly hinted at what she wanted to know without actually asking.
"He enjoyed the food I made him and asked me about my cooking skills, that was it. He spent most of the time talking with the maester about the syrup."
Alysanne very deliberately did not bring up her lord's appearance. He had politely asked her and then more firmly commanded her not to say anything about his mouth and she was not about to risk his wrath, not when he had done so much good for her family. Especially considering that he might truly be a sorcerer, if the rumors were true. One of the stableboys had heard two guards talking about how Lord von Carstein had been bleeding them regularly for a spell to help Lyanna. Maybe that's why she was meeting in his solar? So he could cast his spell?
"May the Old Gods bless Lord von Carstein for letting us taste that. It was delicious," Lyanna said happily.
"I used the last of it as a sweetener in this bread," Alysanne said, waving an arm to indicate the loaves. "Though I think Maester Garth said we should be getting more in soon."
"Really? Think we could. . . " Lyanna made a motion of tossing food into her mouth.
"Absolutely not! These are for the guards that will be leaving soon, they have a long journey ahead of them and deserve something special for it."
"They're accompanying our lord to Bear Island and back, it's not that long of a journey. Most of us came here from Winterfell, after all."
"Didn't stop you from complaining the entire trip though!" Walder shouted.
Seriously, how is he doing that? It's not like he has large ears.
"I complained that I was leaving my children behind because my idiot husband wanted to get settled in the Dreadfort before bringing them!" Lyanna yelled. "Only problem is we can't afford to pay to have them escorted here. If only someone had said that before we left."
"I've been saving half of my pay and you darn well know it!"
"You could probably ask Lord von Carstein if your children could accompany him on the return trip from Winterfell," Alysanne suggested when Lyanna didn't holler back at Walder. "They are old enough to be put to work, right? I doubt any lord would say no to more able bodied servants."
Lyanna clicked her tongue. "Walder and Alys would both be fine here in the kitchen but Torrhen and Bran are too young to be much use." She paused. "Also, I don't think Lord von Carstein ever holds court, certainly not like the Starks used to. I'd have to talk to Martyn to get the children here."
"Speaking of Martyn, one of these is for him," Alysanne said, reaching for a specific loaf in the corner of the tray. While she had technically used maple syrup in all the bread, that one loaf had the majority of it. "He wanted a light dinner."
"You know where the butter is, unless you were thinking some meat?"
"Normally I would, but he said buttered bread was enough. I think he's been having stomach problems."
"Hmm," Lyanna said as Alysanne fetched the butter and began dollaping it onto a plate. "Bet you a groat it's from stress."
"What?"
"I knew Martyn at Winterfell. Good man, trustworthy, dependable, loyal to the Starks. But he was a guard. Now he's castellan of the Dreadfort? He's fortunate to rise so high but at the same time he was never trained for this. Learning on the job is bound to wear on him."
Alysanne found herself nodding as she took an empty mug over to a cask of beer. "If you or I make a mistake, it's ruined food. Bad certainly but if the castellan makes a mistake. . ."
Would Lord von Carstein eat him? She didn't think he was a cannibal, not with how well he had treated her and her family, but she had heard tales about what he had done to the wildlings in the dungeons. She had thought about going down there sometimes, to see what had become of the men that had killed her husband, that had nearly taken her and Arya past the Wall, but she hadn't been able to work up the courage. So she had taken her pleasure in the stories the other servants told, how the wildlings barely accepted the food brought to them, how they cowered at even the mention of Lord von Carstein, how they would void their bowels if you smiled at them. She doubted everything she heard was true, but it still brought her joy.
It wasn't just the pair in the dungeons that were getting people talking. There seemed to be a lot of odd happenings at the Dreadfort since Alysanne had arrived. The greybeards that had lived here all their lives talked about how the trees around the keep seemed different, more twisted, more gnarled. The stablehands worried about getting in trouble because one of the horses had died but the body had disappeared. While the majority of the guards were from Winterfell, two of the men were from Lord von Carstein's past, Oswell and the giant Krell, neither of whom had been seen outside their armor, ever. Every member of the kitchen staff had told Alysanne how lucky they all were that rats and other vermin didn't seem to be much of an issue at the Dreadfort and how, despite their best efforts, the animals were always getting into the food stores in Winterfell. Lady Stark was rumored to have attacked a man in the village before Lord von Carstein had even arrived. Individually, the stories would be easy for her to dismiss but there were so many and they were so different that there had to be some truth to them, something was going on, she just had no idea what.
"What Martyn really needs is a woman," Lyanna said. "His wife died on the birthing bed, he should find someone else to spill his seed into. That ought to relax him."
"Yes, well." Alysanne gave an embarrassed cough. "I should get this to him."
"Just leave me here with all this work and no one to talk to, I see how it is," Lyanna said with a smirk.
"Maybe you could talk to your loving husband and father of your children!" Walder shouted.
"Why would I want to talk to you, ya feckless weasel?!"
Alysanne shook her head in disbelief as she carried the tray of food out of the kitchen. Walder and Lyanna's marriage was certainly an odd one but it worked for them. Nearly every time Alysanne had seen the pair interact they were throwing insults back and forth but if they were separated, they spoke only positively of each other.
Brandon and I wouldn't have survived if we yelled at each other like that, one of us would get our blood up in an argument and he'd hit me too hard or I'd knife him in his sleep.
It was a short walk to Martyn's. . .
Solar? Bedroom? He sleeps in here but he's got a desk and all that parchment. What should I call it?
Alysanne mentally tossed ideas back and forth of possible names as she knocked on the door. When Martyn's voice called out, giving her permission to enter, she decided just referring to it as his 'room' would be accurate enough.
"Here's the bread and beer you requested, Ser Martyn," Alysanne said as she stepped inside. The man was sitting at his desk and seemed to be in the process of writing a message. The parchment was covered in words, there was barely any part that didn't have some ink on it.
"Ah, good. Thank you, Alysanne. You can put it here."
"Of course. Can I ask, Ser, has Rodrick stopped bothering you? I'll talk to him again if he hasn't."
Martyn chuckled. "He has learned when is and when is not an appropriate time to ask me questions about how our Lord and I rescued you and Arya from wildlings. You don't need to do anything more."
Alysanne bowed heavily. "Thank you Ser, I was so worried. You and Lord von Carstein have been so good to my family, I want to make sure I raise my children right, so they know how to give the proper respect to the nobility."
"Given that their father was murdered in front of you just a few moons ago, I'd say both they and you are doing a remarkable job in the Dreadfort. Lyanna has nothing but good things to say about Arya's work as her lady-in-waiting."
She couldn't stop the swell of pride in her chest at those words. And I was worried she wouldn't be able to keep her mouth shut, never have I been more glad to be wrong.
"I admit, I only gave your daughter the job because I knew Lyanna wouldn't get along with most noblewomen and thought it couldn't hurt to try something a bit radical."
"Lady Stark is. . . not what I expected a noblewoman to be," Alysanne admitted hesitantly. She hoped she wasn't overstepping her bounds by saying such but she was basically agreeing with what Martyn had already said so it should be safe.
Martyn nodded and sipped his beer. "You wouldn't know this, not being from Winterfell, but Lyanna has always been a bit wild, they say it's her wolf's blood. I thought smallfolk like your daughter might be sufficiently uncouth for her to not twinge any unfortunate memories of her time in the south."
Not quite sure what that means, so I'll just nod and agree. "As a mother, it is great to hear my children are doing so well."
"I know what you mean, I'm a father. My son, Jory, is following in my footsteps and is a member of the household guard for House Stark." He guestered at the parchment before him. "I'm writing to him, telling him of what life in the Dreadfort is like, asking how his own life has been going without me there."
Alysanne smiled lightly. One sure way of bonding with other parents was swapping stories about your children. "What was Jory like growing up?"
Martyn chuckled. "Assuming I'm not keeping you from any other duties, take a seat. Let me tell you about the time I walked on him about to lose his virginity in my wife and I's bed."