WORDS AND SWORDS

Allara observed Maester Walys whispering secrets into her father's ears, for almost three hours now. Their language was suspicious as usual, with coded words and long buried thoughts making Lord Rickard's stern gaze to be firmly set upon the hearth in his solar. There was a subtle difference in her father's eye colors too. It was dark gray — the usual foggy white eyes were gone that used to grace his bearded gloomy face. His eyes always darkened when he would be in quite a mood. A time like this, Allara always preferred to stay far away from him.

Her father was a stoic man, who never shared emotions and feelings with any of his children, with an exception to Brandon, and that was because her brother was the heir of Winterfell. So, with great endeavor Lord Rickard had put his heart and soul in bringing up Brandon, the heir, with proper lessons and manners. Otherwise Lord Stark spent his time mostly with the Maester getting to know about the situation of the capital and the Southern Kingdoms. Her father was deeply engrossed himself towards the southern politics, ever since their mother's demise. Allara had happened to learn that through the years of serving him as a Steward.

Although, no one gave an official name for the duty she was performing, she styled herself as such, after taking care of the accounts of the lands owned by the hedge knights and vassals, maintaining the taxes and debts that needed to be settled by the small folks, monitoring the horses and mules count in the stable, to give adequate coins whenever required from the treasury. Her duty stretched even more than this to make sure Lord Stark's meals are sorted and provided at the right time, by the servants.

The castellan of Winterfell, Ser Rodrick Cassel was in charge of the armory and monitoring the lands that the castle owned. Ser Rodrick was a man who adhered to his duty like a leech sticking to a goat, doing everything perfectly. So, she never had to interfere or even learn about that matters. Many said, her mother stood in the same place, where she was standing, behind her father's throne, guiding and helping Lord Rickard in all the matters of ruling, in the initial years of their marriage. Some even went a step ahead and called that Allara was the little lady Lyarra and adorned her by addressing her with the title as Lady Stark.

And every time she heard some servant address her with that title, goosebumps would form to prickle her skin, but it was not for pride or happiness. It was for fear. Had her father ever come to learn of her being addressed with that title, he would never give her any more responsibilities. Their relationship was not a smooth ride on a silk road with a flower bed. They both had emotional distance as far as the distance between Dorne and Beyond the Wall. She would often prefer to address him as Lord Stark, over 'father', at-least in front of the household.

Such was their bonding. Allara doubted if giving him the numbers and counts or helping him in making judgements in court, had ever strengthened that little bonding they shared, for he never once asked her if she was doing fine, even one day. She forcefully shut down her emotions when it came to have any interactions with him. It was better that way, and over the years her expectations reduced as equal as the benefit of a horse piss.

There were only two things that she loved in Winterfell. One was to do any duties assigned with all her heart, so her mind would never wallow in self-pity and another was to be with her brother Brandon. She couldn't even contemplate how she would have survived if it was not for her brother's mischievous stunts to make her laugh or their weekly ride to hunt into the woods. He had always tried to cheer her, in whatever stupid ways he deemed right. Lyanna and herself were poles apart in belief. As a child, Lya never had to see their father get wasted away, after their mother had passed away and so, she was always reckless, which in turn only earned glory from her father to be prided as 'the wolf-blood'.

Whenever Lord Rickard showed fondness to Lya over her, it enraged Allara to break the Seven hells. Allara was a Stark too; She had the wolf-blood too. Had he ever cared to look into her once, he might have understood. All he saw was a pretty girl to decorate his hall, who acted as a perfect host to all the guests and an appropriate selfless servant with no payment in return. Or he never saw her at all. What did she know of the man, that she called as her father? Nothing... Her anger was heating her blood and the burning fire in the hearth only helped in flustering her face to red. She was snapped out by the sound of twigs splitting in the fireplace.

"I have no trust in him. He was too close to the crown and now he is with too much vengeance." Lord Rickard scowled.

"All the more reason to turn him into your friend, my Lord." Maester Walys replied in a quiet, feeble voice.

Allara was losing her cool hearing the Maester's whispers, which had its own place in her father's head. She had no idea what the Maester had done to earn such respect. But every time, the Maester whispered... her father listened. Sometimes, it took days or even months to decide but, in the end, the Maester successfully planted his wishes. It was as though, they both were the allies against the same enemy, but both never agreed or accepted about it.

Last time, it was about Brandon's betrothal that made her father to sit in front of the fireplace like this and wallow about it for around a moon, before he decided to send a letter to Riverrun and fix Lady Catelyn Tully's hand for Brandon. Allara still remembered Brandon choking on his wine, when their father announced it during one supper. Till he met her in person, travelling all the way to Riverrun, he didn't stop ranting and raving about it, sulking in the possibilities of marrying a northern noble lady.

The truth was Allara played a vital role in igniting that conflict inside of her brother. Although she had a strained relationship with her father, she wanted to be close with Brandon. He was her perfect brother. He was the well-versed swordsman, a great rider and no one in the North could match him. He was tall, well built like a warrior, gallant as the knights the southerners praised about, and his charms could smite any beautiful lady. Her brother was everything a Lord was supposed to be and most important of all, he was the only person she knew would move mountains for her.

And Allara was determined in getting him married to one of the Manderly girls, who could bring more wealth of White Harbor, to Winterfell. It was not just for the wealth, but also for the friendship, that she had shared with them. She had frequented their ports and castles and had a healthy rapport with them. Lady Donella might not be a great beauty as Catelyn, but she was Allara's good friend, and there was this selfish part of her, that wanted Brandon to marry someone she was close with rather than a Tully girl, so she could frequent Winterfell, when needed.

Catelyn Tully was ambitious as her own father, Rickard Stark. And Allara would find no place in her brother's hearth, if he would choose to marry Catelyn. The thought had saddened her, but she eventually let go of it knowing, her brother's mind twisted the moment his eyes befell on that red-headed beauty in Riverrun. He even gave her some token of love with flowers before leaving for Winterfell. It was so romantic and Allara had no heart to disturb her brother's innocent love by spilling poison. At least Brandon would be happy.

Her soon-to-be good-sister got everything that Allara ever desired. All the more reasons why Allara eventually liked Catelyn, after they met briefly in Riverrun. Even if Allara wouldn't be there around, Brandon wouldn't make any reckless decisions, with Catelyn as his lady-wife. All he had to do was listen to her, once. But when did a woman's words reached a man's ears? a thought spurned in response.

She sighed drearily when her father threw a glance at her. Even after those many years of observing him, she understood nothing of his glances. He let out nothing on his face, to deduce. It was always this way. Longing stares and deep thoughts were the only emotion Lord Rickard Stark gave to his dearest daughter.

"Where are your brothers?"

"They all have gone for a ride. They should have come back by now." She replied thoughtfully.

"Did Lya go with them too?"

Allara stood still with pursed lips. There was no need of this question. No one would be able to stop Lya, if it came to horse rides. Why would her father need to ask such questions in the first place? "She would have also come back from the ride, father. Brandon and Ned are with her."

Lord Stark rose from his seat clearing his throat. "Make everyone to assemble in the Great Hall for supper. We have some matters to discuss."

And there it was, the orders and commands a lord would give to any of his household servants. She fisted her fingers tight to gauge her own skin and took her leave wondering whose marriage her father has planned for now. Presumably it would be for Ned. He had arrived just a day before from the Eyrie where he went to get fostered by Jon Arryn. Or it could be for herself as well. Only one thing she deduced was that, her father was not doing all of this just for a plain Southern ambition. The North had no use in the South, even the dragons knew about it. He was making a coup but for what reasons only Gods knew, and she was never the one to voice her question to Lord Stark. A woman had no voice in any court in all the Seven Kingdoms.

Allara stood by the long table as the maids filled it with all the delicacies without forgetting to add ale and wine to the table. Her thumb instinctively worried on the red-eyes of the dire-wolf silver badge that was pinned about her chest, when curiosity twirled in her mind. All the whispers of the Maester and her father's long face, was pointing to some piece of the puzzle that she had forgot to notice.

There were many northern houses who had subtly asked for her hand during the feasts to her father. The Umbers, the KarStarks, the Ryswells, were more than subtle when they japed aloud. But her father remained mum without giving any answers. Probably, he would prefer Ned wed a northern girl. That didn't sit quite well with her father's ambitions and dreams. Even though she loved Ned with all her heart, many great southern houses would refuse to give their daughter to the second son of Rickard Stark. But who knows marrying leading a simple life would be more peaceful, with no worry to rule a large Kingdom.

She was knocked out of her thoughts, when her legs were lifted off from the ground as two strong arms wrapped her waist and she let out a squeal in fear when she was swirled in air making her head get dizzy, before Brandon placed her gingerly to the floor. The whole Great Hall was reeling before her eyes, when she heard his obnoxious laughter to boom.

"You are too much lost in your thoughts, sister. Pray, tell me, what is in your heart." Brandon teased holding her arm in place, before she crawled onto the floor.

"Her heart is filled with taxes and numbers... and some fine Lords of the North. Probably that monstrous boy Cregan has finally found his way to our sweet sister's little heart after several failed attempts." Lya willfully teased her in front of Brandon knowing how much she hated that arrogant KarStark boy who made some disgusting advances on her during a dance in the feast.

"Cregan?... What did he try to do?" Brandon sneered twisting his brows.

"He tried to kiss her the last time. Ew... It was disgusting to see that. And what did he do the before time, Aly?" Lya asked casually spilling the truth in front of her rogue brother without even caring to think about his temper.

Brandon's fingers were twisting around her wrist, that had started to wound her, and even when she tried to push him away, it gave no fruit. "Don't listen to her. He did nothing as such. I didn't let him to." Aly replied, and her mismatched eyes burned at Lya's who casually sat on the chair with no remorse of speaking unwanted information in front of others. "You know I can deal with an arrogant arse like him. Lya is just teasing me." Aly carefully replied knowing to tread carefully with Brandon else the situation might go bad and end up in a bad disturbance with the Karstarks, along with her own reputation fly out in air.

"Tell me the truth now. If what she said is true, I will break his arm and put him in his right place." Brandon answered madly.

"And where that will lead us to, my son?" Rickard Stark's voice caught all their attention, and they turned around to see him enter with Ned and Ben by his side. "A broken arm and an irreparable bond to our vassal. Do I need to remind you about our northern men's loyalty? 'The North Remembers' even if you become their liege lord."

It was only then Brandon's grasp loosened around her wrist and she scrubbed the ring of pain away, when her brother took his seat, opposite to their father, with fury still dancing in his gray eyes. "Are you asking me to sit here picking roses, when some wayward man tried to touch my sister?" Brandon hissed flaring up against his father.

"He is no wayward, Brandon. Need I remind you that Karstarks are our kin? No harm has come to your sister, to get furious about." Her father casually ignored the truth and it somewhat hurt her to an extent. Wouldn't he even care about his daughter, even if a man tried to behave wrongly with her? "As my heir, you need to learn when to let go and when to hold on to the things that matters. Whatever you think has happened with your sister, is all in your head."

The whole Great Hall was dreadfully silent, and when she rose her head up, the two wolf pups alone managed to find fun by teasing one another and gossiped about who managed to win in their horse ride. Ned gave awkward sorry eyes at her direction, while Brandon tore his chicken in anger eating it less graciously like a beast, and she observed her father's accusing eyes still linger on her brother's behavior.

"I have been trying to educate you to know the politics of the Kingdoms, to play the game without falling prey to your emotions. Yet, you defy me every time." Lord Stark chided.

Recently, Brandon too had taken offense in the way his father was making decisions. Perhaps, it was all because of her influence. She was always careful not to linger about her feelings towards her father, with Brandon. Allara sipped on the wine to clear her head when Brandon leaned on his chair with a mocking chuckle.

"Well, father, I don't give a shit even for the King himself, if he dares to offend my sister. What matters to me, if it is a Karstark? Kith or kin comes to an end, if they hurt my sister."

The wine she drank shot up straight to her head, making her eyes bulge in shock. Her heart swelled in pride and she would have given her brother a thousand kisses in gratitude. But even her tongue became dry when her father dropped his fork on the plate, making the whole Hall silent. It was one thing to speak ill about vassal lords and knights, but it was another level to insult the Mad King, before so many maids and servants. Even the walls had ears. Her father must have been furious for that, and she gently nudged Brandon's elbow to stop doing any more damage. It wouldn't result in any good outcomes.

"Your brother seem to have completely forgotten his duties. It will be well-suited for him to carry-on whatever you have been doing, for a moon from now." Lord Stark barked orders at her and she nodded her head in response. "Also, Brandon... You will make sure to tend the horses and verify the armory count. From tomorrow, you will hold the court all by yourself, without your sister's help, not to forget about the feast arrangements for our vassals."

Brandon silently nodded with seething teeth, when Lord Rickard rose from his seat without finishing his supper, properly.

"One last thing, Brandon... A moon from now, you will receive Lord Jaime Lannister and his men. You will make sure the stay here for them to be pleasant, for a fortnight, following all the guest-rights."

Allara's mouth parted in unknown surprise, with all the information shoved into her head, at once. Her thoughts were put into words by Brandon, when he asked, "Why are they coming, all the way from Casterly Rock?"

"You are not grown enough for me to discuss these private matters. Do your duties first, then let us sit man to man and speak." Their sire gave his stern anger look at her brother and left from the Great Hall.

The whole hall was quiet while her head became blank for a moment, before realizing what Lord Jaime's visit would mean. Surely, there couldn't be a thousand reasons for his arrival. What should she be doing? Her father failed to mention anything about that to her. There was no woman to teach her what she was expected to do. Brandon squeezed her hand and cleared his throat, "Don't worry. A fancy southern lad. Probably, he will run to his home, with tails between his legs, after I call him for a training in the court-yard. They all do."

As much as she loved her brother, she felt his response to be with the same over-protectiveness. If her father was going to betroth her to Lord Jaime, then she didn't want him to hate Brandon. That would be too cruel to live with. "Brandon... Let us finish the supper. It matters nothing to me, who is coming a moon later and we don't know for what reason he is coming. You shouldn't bother either." She tried to calm the waters.

"Oh... I am not that much of a mud-head, Aly. We all know why Tywin is sending his son for a fortnight to stay. I promise you, it is not to wear winter cloaks." Brandon answered taking a long sip in his ale.

"Brother, they will be under our guest-rights." Ned interrupted by leaning forward. "And if Aly is going to get betrot-" Ned paused and stared at her red cheeks that was filled with sheer embarrassment. "Whatever it is, we have to make Lord Jaime and his companions feel welcomed."

"Well, I will welcome him and his southern glory with my sword shoved in his arse. Our father has gone mad to even think of sending Aly South. It is one thing to get a bride from South to North and another to give our girl to South. Don't preach me what is the right thing, Ned. Perhaps, we will give Lya's hand to him. She could kick his butt if required." Brandon sneered glancing towards Lya who stomped her foot on ground in anger.

"And here comes my mighty big brother. If you speak about marriage one more time, in front of me, I will run my horse over you." Lya scowled angrily and walked over to Brandon with a glass of wine and threw it on his face.

That must have infuriated him all the more, before he pushed his chair to the ground to seize Lya by her wrist in fury to hit her. But Aly stopped them both, by getting in between them and ended up getting her arm hit so hard, that it started turning purple. The wine in her head only helped her to unleash anger on everyone around and she screamed aloud.

"Stop it, Brandon! You are not helping in solving anything. First fix what is going on between you and father, then you can care about me." Brandon tightened his jaw when Ned came to see her bruised arm, which she forgot to notice the cause of it. "Has it even occurred to you, what I think of all these?"

"You must fight back against father." Lya answered with angry knitted brows. "Why should the boys stay here while we must leave? We have all the rights as them."

Aly just gaped her mouth in shock, not understanding what her sister was speaking. Had she never lived in Winterfell, at all? Had she never seen what women mean for men in Westeros? It was all fine to speak protesting words but what choice did they truly have, in the end. "I am going to my chamber. And we will not speak about this anymore."

When she left for the Keep, Lya trailed behind her, mumbling curses at Brandon at every turn. "You know what you should do? Make that southern prick to take a bath in the frozen lake of the WolfsWood. He will run back to his castle, with an iced nose. Or..."

"Stop it, Lya. Don't you dare to pull these tricks with Lord Jaime. He is Lord Tywin's heir. The man will not take any slight as such, easily. Do you understand me?" Aly wanted to put a stop her sister's antics, that might insult the Lannisters.

"I am just trying to help you, from escaping." Lya howled longingly. "Gods... You are in such a mood, today."

"I don't need your help." Aly answered calmer than before. Lya moved in front Allara and stared at her eyes for a longer time. "You won't understand. You can't understand. You are still young to understand."

"Do you want to make babies?" Lya asked with a disgusting face scrunching her nose up awkwardly.

"What?" Aly screeched slamming her head with her own palm for even trying to explain it to Lya, who hadn't even had her moon blood yet. "No... I just want to get to know him. Maybe, he is likeable, Lya. It is not like father is going to stop sending me to another house. I have to marry one day."

"We can put a stop to it, you know. If we both work together..."

"You need to stop plotting plans for escaping a marriage. Anyway, father will not get you married now. Don't fret and go to sleep." Aly replied in frustration and flung her chamber door open. She fell on to the feather bed for a good night's sleep where she could forget about her father, or the supper and imagine that all her siblings were perfect. But a form creeped onto her bed and wrapped its wrist around her waist.

"I am sorry. I let Brandon beat you." Lya whispered.

She sighed a relief when her sister at last stopped speaking about betrothal and marriage. "It's okay. He didn't mean it. He would never hurt me."

"You give him too much credit than he deserves." Lya answered back.

Allara wanted to argue that it was not the truth and Brandon was perfect. But there was no point to it, when she heard soft snores coming from her sister. Ignoring everything she drowned into deep slumber thinking about a boy with golden-hair that might shine like her own strand of golden hair at the crown. He might be gallant, kind and loving, as Brandon. Perhaps, he might even like her. It was indeed a great fortune to marry the heir of Casterly Rock, which was supposedly filled with gold-mines, over to marry an old-man with no wealth of his own, just for a political benefit. She just wished there was someone to speak about this with. Would her mother have helped had she been alive? That thought led her into some dangerous pit, which she had sealed inside her heart for years.

Janae.K Hey, Thank you. Even I missed an OC for Rhaegar. I didn't write about Rhaegar in this chapter but do let me know what you think of Allara in this chapter.