Chapter Three
A Wolf Alone
Four weeks earlier…
"You think you're clever, don't you?"
Elyse stood alone before her father in the Great Hall, unbothered by his mocking remark as it echoed off the stone walls before fading into silence. A cold, pale light trickled through the windows, casting deep shadows and making harsh what many considered a genial face, cutting his frown deeper into his skin. In his hand, he held a tiny piece of parchment.
Tucking her hands neatly behind her back, hiding how tightly her fists balled, Elyse lifted her chin. "I imagine we aren't here to discuss what esteem I hold myself in."
A Southron tongue, that was what her uncle called it. Northern speech was curt, to the point, brazen. No one had time for flowery speeches or nauseating pleasantries. Work needed to be done, and it could be done faster if people spoke plainly, but Elyse had developed a taste for prolonging conversation.
I can't spell half the words you speak, girl, he would jest. She would find yet a bigger word just to flummox him after.
Her father only glared, unrolling the parchment. Normally, he might have had Maester Willem read the words as his eyes slowly failed him, but he spoke them now as a man who'd memorized them.
"The Princess Rhaenyra of House Targaryen requests the presence of the Lady Elyse Stark in King's Landing. She will be as her lady-in-waiting, and granted all the privileges and honors befitting a lady of her station."
Lord Rickon Stark simply stared at her when he'd finished, and Elyse allowed the silence between them to drag. Her father looked small sitting at the lord's table alone, buried in his fur cloak. There were no high seats or thrones in Winterfell, or any other Northern keep for that matter (with the exception of White Harbor). If it could not be used for multiple purposes, why possess it at all? Her people were simple in that way.
"Would you care to explain how the crown has deigned us worthy of the honor of your servitude?" Her father spat the words, crushing the parchment in his hand. He tossed it into the fire behind him. "The North means nothing to them, you and I less than nothing. A Stark in their halls may as well be a Dornishman, yet the princess has chosen you."
"Because I wrote to her," Elyse explained concisely. "The princess was rather eager to take up the correspondence."
"Correspondence?!"
"We've been writing for some months."
It had been a rather easy ruse. Maester Willem was still fairly young, and as skilled as they came, but an incident on the kingsroad had left his leg crushed by a horse. It gave him a bad limp and joints that turned stiff during the heavy rains, though he performed his tasks dutifully and without complaint. But the rookery was one of the higher towers on the castle grounds, and the frequent climbing of its stairs left him in dreadful pain. Elyse had offered to help him, and in doing so, made certain her messages were never discovered.
"And in those months, the princess decided you were entertaining enough to whisk you away from your home and your people?"
"I asked her to."
Her father sputtered, face tinging with red as he struggled to control his anger. It was said once that the Lord of Winterfell had never been quick to it, but Elyse had managed to ebb away at his renowned patience until it was little more than a strand easily broken. Whether he remained calm or howled as the direwolves of old, it mattered little. Her fear of his authority had burned away with age and hatred.
"Why?" he asked quietly, more a hiss than a word.
"I wish for an audience with the king, and being in the company of his daughter provides me with ample opportunities, not to mention a suitable excuse for me to be in the South to-"
Her father stood suddenly, slamming both fists upon the table. "IS IT WAR YOU WANT, GIRL?! IS THAT IT?!"
Though he had silenced her, Elyse did not cower before her father. She kept her gaze locked upon his, unflinching, until he sat once again, shrinking back into the sad state that his health had lowered him to.
"These lords who grumble for independence will not look kindly on my daughter being taken to King's Landing. They'll think of you as a hostage, a means to quiet us."
Elyse shook her head. "These lords look to anything the South does as a means to further their cause. Today, it is me, tomorrow, a ship that sails too close to Skagos, the next, some petty lord who hunted the wrong deer past the Neck. There is nothing more that can be done here to placate them."
It was no secret that many in the North resented Torrhen Stark for bending the knee to Aegon the Conqueror. Though the alternative was fire and blood, as the Targaryen words boasted, many believed it to be preferrable to subservience to a Southern lord.
When the First Dornish War resulted not only in the continued independence of Dorne, but also the death of Aegon's sister and her dragon, rifts began to grow as the people began to realize victory was possible, and they only deepened over the years due to perceived Targaryen incompetence, malice, or both. King Jaehaerys and Good Queen Alysanne had done much to soothe her slighted people, but it had not been enough, and the anger returned toward the end of the king's reign, and had begun to swell during the rule of his grandson, Viserys.
With the line of succession called into question, leaving either the king's brother, whom many deemed half-mad, or his young daughter, a few lords in the North began to favor a move toward independence. They perceived the crown as weak, as the king did not ride a dragon, and they had learned from the Dornish the proper ways to fight back. Yet for all their bluster, not a single one had openly declared for the idea. Everything was heard secondhand, whispers from servants to other servants, ravens in the night with dire gossip, but Elyse knew well that the battlefield was set. She stood amidst the kindling, waiting for the spark that would set her world aflame.
"We need assurances from the king himself that our people are not forgotten and that our voices carry weight," Elyse continued. "We cannot continue to lie for them; we must have them act."
"And you are the one who will perform this miracle? A girl of seven-and-ten?"
"Who else is there?"
Her father would never leave the North unless absolutely necessary, and no brothers of hers had survived until Cregan was brought into the world, he was merely a boy of four now. And her uncle, and his sons, they were amongst the loudest of the voices that longed for independence.
Lord Rickon sighed, and looked at her for once not out of frustration or anger. He simply appeared tired. "I am an old man now, Elyse. I have kept the peace all these years, as will your brother when he comes of age, but should I pass before he is, it is you I would entrust Winterfell with. That cannot happen if you are not here."
"If that should come to pass, they would supplant me before your body turns cold. You know this."
Her father only sighed again, falling silent.
Elyse finally approached the table. "If you are so determined to balk whatever aid can be scrounged, why do you not declare the North independent and be done with it already? War will come if you stand alone, and you will not win."
He spoke no more to her that day, or the next, but the one after saw servants bringing trunks into her room and packing what belongings she had. Rickon Stark would not see his daughter off, but he had given his quiet blessing.
On her fourth day in King's Landing, Elyse began to wonder if she hadn't lost her courage entirely. She never saw or spoke to anyone, save for the servants who passed through her quarters and Medrick, but the knight shied away from her upon regaining consciousness. It was shame that kept him quiet in her presence, though for his appearance or for his actions, she could not say.
This left her utterly alone, with nothing but her thoughts and doubts as company. More often than not, Elyse thought to seek out those she had come to the city for, in particular the Princess Rhaenyra, as she was to be in her service, and was already late in presenting herself. She had even gone as far as to open her door and step into the threshold before the foundations of her confidence crumbled and she shamefully re-entered her quarters.
Sometimes she read, though most of the tomes came from the prior occupant and were filled with little more than terrible poetry, and sometimes she wrote, pages of rambling to Sara that were more for her well-being than her sister's correspondence. For the most part, Elyse languished in bed, sleeping fitfully or staring at the shadows that crossed her walls throughout the day, her thoughts left to wander the streets of the city.
That morning, she was standing on her balcony, overlooking King's Landing below, her eyes tracing over every rooftop, wondering if she could not find the route she had taken. Every now and again, she would catch her hand reaching for that empty space on her chest.
Elyse closed her eyes, breathing deeply as she thought of home. Sara would likely be with the blacksmith's daughters – they were of the same age and mischievous to boot – running around the castle grounds with wildflowers in their hair. Her mother would be fretting over Rodrick, a babe scarcely a month old when she left, while Cregan would drive the maids wild with his antics. Ever since he could crawl, her little brother had become fond of disappearing.
She had been so confident in Winterfell, so assured that she was in the right. Her father had seen her for the foolish child she was all along.
Her mind suddenly quiet, Elyse began to pick up on a conversation just outside her door.
"I don't think she is ready to see anyone."
"How are we to know if we don't ask her?"
"She never leaves her quarters. Is that not good enough?"
"She probably doesn't know the way. No one wants to wander the halls unguided after what Maegor did. They might disappear, never to be seen or heard from again. Maybe that's why we haven't seen her yet."
"Rhaenyra…"
Elyse crossed her room quickly, opening the door to the still arguing girls. Stunned brown and violet eyes met her, wide as saucers, children caught out in the open.
"Princess," Elyse spoke with a bow of her head. The Targaryen looked much like she expected, with platinum hair and a pale complexion. She wore a dress styled in the way of her house, with red and black fabrics sewn into scaled patterns, a dragon through and through. "I've not disappeared yet, I can assure you."
Rhaenyra shut her mouth with a click, prompting a smile from the other girl. She had beautifully curled auburn hair that stood stark against her simple, blue dress.
"You must be Lady Alicent," she continued, smiling at both girls. "I've heard many things about you."
Alicent eyed the princess suspiciously. "All complaints, I assume."
"She did mention once or twice that you refuse to go near her dragon."
Rhaenyra threw her hands up in mock indignation. "Remarkable. I've only just met my lady-in-waiting, and she's already betrayed my confidence. I ought to have you dismissed."
The princess then pushed her way into the room, with all the assurance and pride that came from being born to such a title. She looked around the space, judging the layout. Elyse had been told she could change it to her liking, but she hadn't the faintest idea where to start. Her room in Winterfell was much smaller, and most of her decorations were furs to help keep the heat in, which was hardly a problem in the South. Frankly, Elyse hadn't realized a person could need so many throw pillows.
"The last occupant was from the Reach, I think," Rhaenyra commented, continuing to turn about in place. "Some fat, flowery lord. He kept asking for my hand."
"He was one of Lord Redwyne's sons," Alicent added, entering the room after offering Elyse an apologetic smile. "He had an appetite for the…finer things in life."
Elyse felt an anger burn in her belly at the implication Alicent's pause gave, but did her best to not let it show.
But Rhaenyra only grinned at them both. "Until Uncle Daemon spoke to him. I'd never seen a man his size move so fast before."
Elyse could very well believe it, offering a small smile as the girls giggled at their shared memory. Daemon had more or less been on her side, and she'd still had to actively fight the urge to flee his harsh gaze. She could hardly imagine the wroth of that man as he put off his niece's would-be suitor.
The room fell silent then, awkwardly, as the girls looked to one another.
Rhaenyra cleared her throat and stepped toward her, hands neatly tucked behind her back, all decorum. Elyse watched her age considerably as she put the child aside and adorned the mantle of princess.
"Forgive me, this is hardly the proper way to greet you, especially after everything that happened. You must think me callous."
"On the contrary, Princess, I find you to be a lovely distraction from my otherwise unlovely thoughts," Elyse replied, offering a warmer, more genuine smile. "I will admit, I am glad you came to me. I hadn't the slightest clue where I would find you."
"Then you must have a tour!" the princess declared, casting off her solemnness as quickly as she'd put it on, returning to her youthful energy in an instant. "And the first place we shall travel to is the Dragonpit."
"Rhaenyra," Alicent chastised, sounding more the girl's mother than her friend. "The Dragonpit is hardly part of the Red Keep. How is that to help her?"
"Because she is to be my lady-in-waiting, and no lady can know her princess fully until she has met her dragon," Rhaenyra countered, looking quite proud of herself. "Have you ever seen a dragon, Lady Elyse?"
"Once, on my way here. Your uncle passed so close to our ship, it rocked as if we were under siege."
"Then you have not been close enough. Come!"
With that, Rhaenyra grabbed her right arm and all but dragged Elyse out of the room. Alicent mumbled something against her course of action before following along, eventually ending up on Elyse's left.
The girls began to chat animatedly, bringing up one story after the other as they passed through the Red Keep. Every statue and hall reminded them of one, which they half-told through giggles as they remembered little inside jokes before forgetting to finish the tale entirely because they'd gotten distracted by yet another memory. They'd scarcely made it down the first flight of stairs and Elyse had already been treated to anecdotes about an endlessly sneezing maester, a lord with an oddly shaped bald spot, a honeycomb, and something about a fish in a dress, none of which were finished, much to her curiosity's anguish.
Elyse did her best to keep up with the girls, becoming acutely aware of what few friends she possessed in the North. The only children near her age were her cousins, and they would rather let their steel sing than their tongues. Sara would often ramble for hours at a time, as the girls on her arms were, but it was often a one-sided conversation, more like a mother half-understanding her daughter's passionate murmurs because that was what made her happy.
She had no one her age to turn to when in need, and it seemed to her that the girls were also lacking for company. They were all too eager to share everything, overwhelmingly so, but something about it warmed her heart, and she gripped their arms just as enthusiastically as they wound through the halls.
"Is it true my uncle brought you into the keep on horseback?"
Elyse hoped the heat suddenly blooming in her cheeks was only noticeable to her.
"I wish I could say it wasn't," she replied, suddenly unable to meet the gaze of any of the lords or ladies they passed by. How many had seen her that night? How many knew and spoke of her over their meals, a curiosity that they drew conclusions about with no real proof? "It was hardly the most proper of introductions. It was…well, I really don't know how to describe it."
Surprising? Unexpected? Those were words for gifts received on a whim from a loved one or for a child jumping around a corner in hopes of scaring passersby. Everything Daemon Targaryen had done upon their meeting was to an extreme that defied what her vocabulary could describe. Deep down, Elyse had a feeling that was the intent.
She could feel Alicent's arm tugging at her a little harder. "He should not have scandalized you so."
"Scandal is what Daemon does best," Rhaenyra added, a distant look in her violet eyes. "Certainly better than visiting his family."
To that, Elyse said nothing, allowing their walk to lapse into silence as they continued through the keep. It was only as they approached the lower level, entering into a grand interior courtyard that hummed with activity – one that she vaguely remembered from the other night – that the girls began to talk again. They whispered, not so discreetly, about Lord Rosby as he passed them by, and then about Lord Merryweather, little somethings that were in truth nothings, just entertaining gossips to pass the time.
Elyse hardly minded, allowing the words to rush over her as she took in the keep from a proper height and pace.
"Rhaenyra!" a voice called out across the space, bringing everything to a standstill. Lords and ladies to their left and right inclined their heads, their conversations abandoned. Elyse and Alicent quickly turned around and joined suit, their arms unlinking, but the princess held her head high.
Queen Aemma was a lovely woman to behold with the same silvery hair as her Targaryen mother, soft violet eyes, and a kind smile. There was a motherly quality to her in spite of the deep red gown that she wore with stitched black dragons that spoke of fire and conquest.
She approached them quickly, a member of the famous Kingsguard and a maid trailing in her wake, motioning to the rest of the courtyard to go about their business. Conversations were slow to pick up again. Elyse did not doubt every ear was straining to hear the queen's words.
"Mother," Rhaenyra said, smiling warmly. She recalled that the princess had been named The Realm's Delight, and Elyse could see why as she looked lovingly at her mother; she was a girl in possession of charms that could get her out of any issue, though Elyse knew from experience that it rarely worked upon mothers.
"Please tell me you are not about to drag our newest guest to the Dragonpit first thing."
"If I told you that, it would be a lie," the princess replied, swaying on the balls of her feet. "And you cuffed me the last time I lied."
The queen's retinue smirked.
"Gods be good, Rhaenyra, not everything is about your dragon," Aemma said with a sigh. The queen turned to her with a warm smile. "Please forgive my daughter, Lady Elyse. She suffers from an affliction of self-importance."
"There is nothing to forgive, My Queen. I find the princess's introduction to be one of the more grounded I've received."
Quite literally, as unfortunate as it was.
"Ah, yes, Daemon," Aemma replied with the look of a woman who knew all too well her good-brother's schemes. "I suppose next to him, anyone's company is agreeable, even a princess who stinks of dragon."
Aemma grabbed her daughter's shoulder and pulled her close. "You've already ridden Syrax once this morn, and she's far too small for a second rider, even if the lady was willing."
"I hadn't asked her yet," Rhaenyra pouted.
"And now you never will," her mother said, gently touching her cheek. "Get on to your studies. You too, Alicent. I wish to speak with Lady Elyse myself."
Alicent nodded immediately, grabbing Rhaenyra's arm before the princess could complain, though the girl gave her one last pleading look. They disappeared into the throng of people gathering inside as conversations roared to life once more, laughter and shouts echoing across the bricks.
"Come with me," Aemma said, gesturing by her side. The queen and Elyse walked beside one another through the keep, her hand gently reaching out to guide her when they took certain turns through the winding halls. Elyse suddenly felt nervous in her presence, and spent much of the time focusing on the soft clink of the knight's armor behind her.
Lords and ladies stepped aside for them, sweeping across the hall in grand gowns and adorned tunics, flashing brilliant colors that she'd never seen the likes of in Winterfell. Elyse felt less a lady and more a fortunate servant, especially in the dull dress she'd been given, large and musty, barely fitting her. After the carriage had disappeared, commoners had ransacked her trunks, leaving nothing but bits of torn paper that had been her letters to Sara. All she had left in her name were the clothes she'd arrived in.
But all that had mattered was the necklace.
Eventually, they arrived at the queen's chambers, a grand, extravagant room filled with depictions of the three-headed dragon and what might have been Valyria of old, but there were also touches of her household, the sky blues and falcons of House Arryn. They contrasted harshly against the red and the black, and yet felt at home with one another.
"Would you care for something to drink?" Aemma asked, gesturing for her to sit in an ornate chair.
"No, thank you, My Queen," Elyse replied, taking a seat. She nearly sank into the cushions, watching quietly as the queen sat across from her. The woman accepted a goblet from her maid, then bade her go, leaving them alone before the fireplace.
Aemma did not speak at first. She drank from her goblet, straightened her dress, sometimes turned toward the fire, but Elyse could tell that she was being measured. It seemed all Targaryens were prone to long bouts of intimidating silence when they happened upon her. Silence was something meant to scare Southern lords who wished to talk themselves into the grave, but the North was nothing but periods of silence, emptiness without respite. It could neither coerce nor dishearten her. In fact, it might have been the kindest thing the queen could offer.
"First, I must ask: are you doing alright?" the queen eventually spoke, placing her goblet on the table beside her. "Rhaenyra has a kind heart when she wishes to, but she's also young. Children have no desire to be focused on cruel realities longer than they have to be."
Elyse placed her hands gently in her lap, watching as her fingers lightly shook. "I think I am better than I could have hoped for. Despite her brashness, your daughter's excitement was a wonderful distraction, and I am grateful for it."
"That is a sentiment you will not hold on to for long, I can assure you," Aemma replied, voice heavy with the experience of an exasperated mother.
But in an instant, the warmth in her eyes died, and Elyse was met with a steel gaze. A mother dragon was Aemma Arryn. "Now tell me why it is you are in King's Landing. I know how you came to be here. Rhaenyra only has to smile at her father, and he'll cave to whatever request she brings before him. She asked, out of the blue, for a lady-in-waiting, not of a household in the Crownlands or the Reach or even the Westerlands, but the North, a place as content to ignore us as we are them, and Viserys never questioned it.
"My husband is a good and kind man, and a wonderful father, but he is far too trusting. I have learned that I need to be his suspicions when he himself drowns them out for love of his daughter. So tell me, Elyse Stark, why is it you have used my daughter to arrive here?"
She had expected questions of this sort, and perhaps even planned how to answer them during her voyage, but Elyse was met with none of the answers she had refined over those days. They, and many other things, had simply become lost in the vastness of the capital, never to be found again. The truth, she decided, would be the best course of action in the days ahead, though it had never been her friend in the past, but there was danger here she could not begin to comprehend even after all she had already suffered. To make an enemy of the queen was to fail before her journey truly began.
"I did not mean to use her in the way you describe. That is to say, I have not lied to Rhaenyra to gain her favor. She knows the truth of why I am here, and she hoped to help."
It was a wonder the princess had not brought up the discussion already, but perhaps Alicent was in the dark about the things they spoke of.
"And what is the truth my daughter knows?"
Elyse took a breath, feeling the cold of Winterfell on her shoulders in that moment. "The North is on the brink of war, both amongst ourselves and with the realm. There are those who call for independence, and they grow bolder each day. My father would never ask for aid, but I see no other choice.
"I asked Rhaenyra to make me her lady-in-waiting so that I may travel here without putting my father under suspicion. I am a daughter sent to help a princess, not an envoy asking her king to stop a war. I don't know if it will even work, but I had to try."
Aemma frowned. "So you would involve my daughter in the political machinations of a civil war?"
"Your daughter is in King's Landing, My Queen, guarded by knights and dragons. She is no more involved than a babe born in Essos."
"Then you have learned little of my daughter during your correspondence," the queen replied, standing. Elyse stood as well, keeping her head bowed. Just out of her periphery, she could see Aemma circling her chair, hands gripping its back tightly. "Since she was eight, Rhaenyra has served as her father's cupbearer, a role meant for his son and heir. She has been to every council meeting, every courtly honor, and she desires nothing more than to prove herself worthy of the position she has been granted, and it appears that you have brought her a tempting opportunity."
Elyse looked up and met the eyes of the queen. She would not feel ashamed for what she had done. What was shame in the face of the horrors that awaited her people?
"I will not beg forgiveness, My Queen. Only the chance to do what I must before I am dismissed."
Aemma watched her again, and she could see the hard edges softening, the light returning to her violet eyes. She was simply a mother once more, tired but strong.
"You are playing a part that my daughter has longed for all these years, and I wish she could see the toll it takes on you as I do now. Tell me, when did you last truly smile?"
When a dragon nearly capsized my ship, Elyse thought, though she did not speak the treasonous words aloud.
"They say Starks have a hatred for happiness, and I am well and truly a Stark, My Queen."
Aemma finally dropped her gaze, her hand fidgeting with the ornate backrest of her chair. "I do not know when my husband may speak with you on the matter. It is a problem for the realm itself, and that is for all the council to hear, but in the meantime, you will not be dismissed."
Elyse blinked rapidly, wondering if there weren't tears in her eyes.
"However," the queen continued, taking her seat once more. "You will not remain here as my daughter's lady-in-waiting. Consider it both yours and Rhaenyra's punishment for going behind my back.
"You shall be mine instead."
.
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I know, no Daemon. I thought about putting a scene in, but it was far too long and I feel needed more focus than what this chapter would give it. Also, we needed some Elyse development. But I've got you next time! Thanks for reading!
