Land of the King

Chapter 74: Alyssa's Tears

4546 E.L

"I am his and he is mine," his daughter said before the Arnorian Prince leaned in to kiss her.

Roland clapped as did all the other guests when the newlywed couple kissed. Though outwardly congratulatory and celebratory, he did still have some misgivings about the match.

His daughter was only forty years old, middle-aged for the commoners of the Vale, but for the nobility who had the Blood of Númenor running in their veins, that was exceptionally young. Her new husband was three times her age and over a century old, older even than Roland himself, if only by five years. Yet to the descendants of Númenor, an age difference of 85 years was, while uncommon, not unheard of.

Thinking about it, Roland knew of all the reasons why he had agreed to the match, yet a part of him was still reluctant to give away his only daughter to another man, even to one as noble and trustworthy as he knew Prince Arahad to be. In some way, Alyssa would always be his little girl, but it was past time to let her go. And however ill the thought of giving away his daughter for political reasons was, the fact still was that he needed it for his projects with the Vale, those to come, and those which had been completed in its reconstruction from the ash.

When he was just a boy, Roland remembered waking up one morning to see fire as the Valyrians conquered Gulltown during their invasion of Westeros in the Third Dragon War. His father and mother had died in the flames as Roland and his brother Rodrick had been spirited away to the Gates of the Moon even as the chivalry of the Vale fought to guard their retreat in the Battle of Ironwood. At the young and unripe age of five and ten, Roland had become King of the Vale as his kingdom burned to the ground.

He was besieged in the Gates of the Moon for three long years, the years that had been the worst in his life. Every day he would go to sleep wondering if he would wake up in a blaze of fire and agony. Every hour spent wondering if their defenses would falter and the dragons would breach the Gates.

Finally, relief had come when Prince Aravorn had marched to liberate the Vale after the Drowning of the Isles. Yet the accursed Valyrians had had one last act of spite before they withdrew from the Vale, destroying everything in their path, desolating the land, leaving naught but ash.

Roland shook off the memories, this day was not for dwelling on the past, but to celebrate the future. His daughter's marriage to the heir of their oldest and strongest ally could only mean good things for the Vale, which could grow strong once more. With Arnor's aid, the Vale had made great strides in its recovery, and the two Kingdoms had grown closer than ever, leading to this marriage, which could only help in bringing them closer still.

Though, as the wedding guests mingled with each other, Roland espied his brother Rodrick stalking off in anger and he sighed, his brother's discontent being by now a familiar dark cloud over the rebirth of the Vale.

Rodrick had never quite forgiven Arnor for 'dragging the Vale into their war.' The way his brother saw it, Arnor had violated the terms of their alliance when they had attacked Valyria in the First Dragon War, and when Valyria had invaded Westeros in the Third, the Vale had been caught in between the two titans. He knew his brother gave some other reasons, first and foremost the Seven, however at the heart of it, he knew he blamed Arnor for the devastation of the Vale as much as Roland was thankful to Arnor for its reconstruction.

Yet before Roland could leave to speak to his brother, he was greeted by the two Kings of Arnor. The current reigning king, King Aravorn had attended the wedding in Gulltown to see his son wed. His father, the former king, Aragost, was also in attendance.

"Roland, it's good to see you again," Aravorn greeted, dispensing with the formalities.

"And I you Aravorn, and you as well Prince Aragost," Roland replied, addressing the veteran king who had won the Third War with respect. Old grudges died hard and many, both in Arnor and the Vale, still saw Aragost and his father, the first Arahad, responsible for the destruction of the Dragon Wars.

For his own part, Roland wished that Arahad I had not gone against his own father's wishes and attacked Valyria two and a half centuries ago, but the old king had ultimately paid the price for his foolishness in the end, and his sons had paid for his sins with dividends. Aragost had abdicated after the war, all but forced to by the Arnorian people who would suffer him as their king no longer, the price of victory too bitter for most to swallow. Roland could sympathize with the former king, mayhaps too well, as his own people had been growing discontent at how close the Vale and Arnor had come together, despite it being necessary in order for the Vale to rise again.

In that, as in it seemed, in everything nowadays, Roland was different from his brother, never forgetting that it had been Arnor who had saved him and helped rebuild the Vale, his gratefulness for that being eternal, much like his wisdom and appreciation of the neighbouring kingdom.

"Tell me, do you think they will be happy together?" Roland asked Aravorn. It was not Aravorn who answered however.

"Maybe not at first, for despite their previous meetings, they are naught but strangers to each other now, but in time, I believe they may come to love each other," Aragost answered.

Roland looked at the newlywed couple with curiosity and wonder, hoping that his daughter could indeed be happy. It seemed she noticed his gaze for she soon left the side of her husband and took his hands into hers.

"Come, dance with me adar!" she said cheerfully, using the Sindarin word for 'father'.

He sighed dramatically, unable to quite hide the smile on his face, "If I must, my dear."

As they danced, Roland barely hidden smile transformed into a full as he saw how cheerful Alyssa was, even if some of his doubts still plagued him.

"Are you happy Alyssa?" he asked her suddenly.

Alyssa's own joy faltered a bit at that, before he replied with that thoughtful frown he so loved in his daughter, "I am. Maybe not in love, but I am happy."

"Aren't you worried about your husband?" he asked.

"I'm not," she replied confidently. "He's a good man, and while I don't think I love him, I do like him."

At that, he gave her a happy smile, knowing it was the best he could hope for.

"I hope you two find love in each other. You deserve that my dear," he said.

Soon the bards changed song, and Roland handed Alyssa off to her brother Ronnel for the next dance.

As he watched his daughter dance in turn with each of her brothers before returning to her husband for the last dance, Roland felt the future was looking bright for the Vale. Though the scars of the war could still be seen and felt even now, over a century later, slowly but surely, they were healing and the Vale could soar to new heights. The House of Arryn would remain 'As High as Honor'.


The night was dark and cold when Roland was woken by the sword placed to his throat. Dragged out of his bed, he and his wife were marched to the Throne Room dazed and confused. Irons were placed on their wrists despite their protestations, the guards never saying a word as they walked.

Finally, they arrived in the hall, finding it deserted except for Rodrick and a few guards standing in front of the Throne.

"Rodrick, what's the meaning of this!?" he said as he was brought before him.

"Brother, forgive me if you can, I bear you no ill will," his brother said, his voice of anguish, yet filled with grim determination. "If you can believe me, know this, this is not done out of malice or ambition, but rather for the Vale."

"What in the name of the Others is going on here Rodrick?" he asked, getting more and more confused, his drowsiness having ebbed away.

"This pains me to do. You do not deserve this, brother. I know that had we been born sometimes else you would have been a great King, and the Vale would have flourished under your care. But here and now, I cannot let this continue any longer. However much I love you, despite all your faults and mistakes, I must put the Vale first. Therefore, as much as it pains me, I shall from here on now take the title of King in the Vale."

"What?" he asked, disbelieving at his brother's words. "Why? Why do this Rodrick?"

"Your own wife besides you should be clue enough," he said pointing at Finduilas. "Arnor dragged us into war with Valyria. Our mother and father and over a million of our people burned in the flames and you… Your wife is Arnorian," he said pointing at her. "Your clothing is Arnorian, even your accent is, from how much you surround yourself with them. Your children are Arnorian and your son in law is the heir of Arnor. Seven above, even your faith is Arnorian."

"I worship the Seven just as much as you do!" he replied, vitriol in his voice at his brother's accusation.

"You worship the Arnorian heresy, mixing the gods of our people with the heathen god of Arnor and the trees of the Northmen," his brother spat back. In many ways it felt like so many of their arguments, their conflicting views on Arnor almost making him forget the chains around his wrists. It seemed his brother realized too as he took a deep breath before continuing.

"For all the love I once held for you, the love I still hold for you, I give you a chance Roland. Yield the throne to me, you and your sons may join the Watch in exile, where you can life out your life with dignity and honor and meanwhile I will repair the ruin that you have brought upon the Vale," his brother said finally, his tone sorrowful.

"You're nothing more than a coward and a traitor Rodrick! Do you think Arnor and Norda will stand by and allow you to usurp the rightful King of the Vale?" his wife, Finduilas shouted at that, though Roland could hear the anguish and fear in her voice.

At that, Rodrick's face suddenly turned into ice, looking at his wife with nothing short of cold contempt.

"They will accept that the feat is done, and that it is the will of the people. The people of the Vale and the lords want a king who recognizes their traditions and customs, who honors their religion rather than turning away from the Light of the Seven for some foreign god, who would see them as a proud and independent kingdom, rather than a slave to Arnor. They do not recognize your line Roland, all that is left is for you to see it for what it is." As he said that, the doors of the Throne Room opened, and his sons were walked in, irons on their wrists as well.

"And why should I recognize you Rodrick? When you defy all the customs of our people, the people whose interests you claim to represent, to make yourself King? When you insult my wife and HOLD MY FAMILY IN CHAINS!?" he said, unable to hold his anguish and anger. At that, Rodrick only gave him a pained smile.

"Because I hold your family in chains, Roland. Please, let's not go there. There is no need for any more bad blood."

"Others take you," he spat at his brother.

"Please, Roland, don't make me do this," his brother said, as Roland saw him reach for his knife.

At that, Roland just stared defiantly. Do it, you bastard, kill me, let the world know you for a kinslayer! However, when he said nothing, his brother moved not towards him, but towards his eldest son, moving behind him and putting the knife to his throat.

"Roland, please…" his brother said, and he saw that there were even tears in his eyes as he continued. "I don't want to do this..." and he realized in horror, that he truly didn't. Yet his knife is still there. He truly believes he's doing the right thing. He realized in horror. What could he do then? He couldn't argue, nor could he convince him not to do what he felt was right.

"But I will. So, for the last time, will you do this the hard way or the easy way?" his brother asked him. Only a moment passed before he replied, though it felt like an eternity.

"I'll do it, for Seven's sake I'll do it Roland!" he said, defeated.

"I'm glad you saw reason, brother," Rodrick finally said at that, cold calmness coming back to him as he withdrew the dagger. "Bring the documents, ink a quill and the seals!" his brother ordered, as a few of the guards made their way. Soon they brought back the required items.

The papers included an official order for his daughter Alyssa to yield the Eyrie to her uncle, and an abdication on Roland's part for himself and all his descendants and officially naming and recognizing his brother Rodrick as the new King. When he signed the last one, Rodrick took the papers and read his signatures carefully on the papers. Satisfied, he handed them to what he saw in horror was his own maester.

"You are aware of course that I will need you to make an official announcement concerning all of this to smooth over the transition of power?" Rodrick asked.

"Obviously," Roland gritted out.

"Good. Do this thing Roland and we can end this without blood being shed." His brother's words sounded both hopeful and threatening at the same time. It was sickening.

"You make that announcement in the morning. Until then, you and your family can go back to sleep. Guards, make sure they stay in their quarters until then. And unbind their chains."

However, as he said that, a sudden commotion at the doors scared them all, as some of the doors were thrown open, and the captain of the guards and a dozen of his men burst in.

"Protect the Royal Family! Kill the traitors!" the captain shouted.

Immediately Roland and his sons sprung to action, wrestling with their guards in the confusion. With his arms still restrained, Roland made for his loyal guards but before he could get anywhere, he felt a sword going through his back and looked down to see that it had run straight through his abdomen, the blade red with his blood. The blade was drawn out and Roland dropped to the ground, feeling his life slip away from him as he bled out on the floor.


Even the sun at high noon did little to warm the Eyrie which remained cold and lonely. Roland had wanted a castle to represent how high the Vale had risen but what was the point when the Eyrie had no soul? High atop the Giant's Lance, there was little of the typical bustle and commotion of a city like Arahad was used to, only the soft patter of feet in the corridors as the few servants did their tasks, the haunting whistle of wind blowing through the mountains, and the soft running of the nameless waterfall that poured from the Giant's Lance.

Even after twenty years, the Eyrie was not yet fully constructed though all that was left now was one last tower. Arahad and his new wife Alyssa had come to stay in the new palace for a while before they went to Arnor.

If he was being honest, Arahad would have chosen almost any other place to spend the months after his wedding in, but it had been Alyssa's request to see the Eyrie and he had not wished to make things more awkward by denying her.

He still remembered what she had said when she had brought the matter up, 'I want to see the castle that I was bargained off to Arnor for.'

There was no malice, no complaint, no anger in her voice. Just a simple statement, but it suggested to Arahad that the Princess might not have been as pleased with the marriage as she appeared to be on the surface. While he who had been more involved in the negotiations knew full well that Alyssa had not been simply traded for the Eyrie, it might have seemed like that to the young princess.

Arahad however had no idea how to tell her that. He liked his wife, she had a spirit to her that felt so refreshing, and only a blind man could deny her beauty, however for all of that, there was still an emotional divide between them. Simply put, Arahad really did not know how to interact with his new wife. She was an enigma to him.

As they dined on their luncheon, Arahad discretely observed Alyssa, wondering yet again to himself how to break through her shell and know the real Alyssa, the Alyssa he had seen happily smiling and dancing with her father and brothers at the wedding. He could prompt smiles out of her easily enough, yet he couldn't seem to reach her heart, to get her to open herself up emotionally.

Their meal was interrupted by the courier hurriedly passing a message to Alyssa who opened it up and read. He knew the moment her expression changed into one of grief and horror.

"What has happened?" he asked immediately. There was silence for many moments, before Alyssa replied, her voice stretched and distorted.

"My brothers and father are dead," she said.

Immediately, Arahad rose from his seat and ordered everyone out of the room, however in a second he was countermanded by Alyssa who similarly rose.

"Stay, all of you. My uncle has sent word to me, enclosing a letter from my father ordering me to leave the Eyrie and make for Arnor immediately. The same letter however also mentions that my father and brothers are all dead, killed in 'a tragic accident'," she said, her voice containing a cold bitter sarcasm. "My uncle asks me to leave the Vale as my father ordered while he 'takes his place as King to stabilize the kingdom in the wake of this tragedy'. Apparently the High Septon has even crowned him."

"So he's killed them?" he asked in shock. The wayward brother of the King in the Vale was by now a known issue, but never would Arahad have imagined that.

"He has, and now he seeks to usurp me." She gave a cold, pained laugh at that. "He seems to think I will go meekly along with it." Arahad knew his wife well enough to know the Seven Hells were more likely to freeze over.

"And what will you do instead?" he asked.

"I will take up my father's crown and I will march on Gulltown, and put all of my uncle's supporters to the sword. As for my uncle himself, there is no corner I will let him hide, no stone I will not turn until I find him and deliver justice upon him. Can I count on you, my lords?" she asked the nobles in attendance who had been invited to break their fast with them.

"Aye," they all answered at once.

"The King is dead. Long live the Queen!" one of them said.

"Long live the Queen!" the others echoed.

"And Arnor? Can I expect Arnor's support?" she asked, steel determination in her voice, already sounding like the ruler she had just been forced to become.

"Of course. Arnor will not allow this crime to go unanswered. As heir to the Throne of Elendil I swear this to you," he replied. He knew his father would agree, such an attack could not be allowed to stand.

"Very well then. Until further notice, you are dismissed," she said to the lords. "Now leave us, I would speak to my husband alone," she said. Quickly both the lords and the servants made themselves scarce, leaving only the two of them alone.

Arahad watched with uncertainty as Alyssa stalked over to him, uncertainty in her step, and fear and pain in her eyes. Wordlessly, Arahad caught her in his embrace, no words needed as her iron mask broke. She was probably making a mess of his clothes, but Arahad didn't care, just letting his wife share her grief with him. A small part of him thought with dark humour that it was the closest they had ever been. They had been intimate physically before, obviously, but it was the first time she had opened her heart to him.

He pushed those thoughts away, however. It felt selfish to think of their relationship or see anything good about what was happening. In that moment all that mattered was that his wife needed him, she needed him to be by her side as the greatest challenge of her life was upcoming, and she needed him, for she could not show weakness to anyone else. He could do that. In that moment, he swore that he would be by her side always, no matter what.

Many legends and stories would rise up around Queen Alyssa. The most famous of which claimed that she never cried when she heard her family had all been killed. Her enemies said it was proof of her heartlessness. So popular did the tale become that even some of her loyalists began to believe it though they said it was proof of her commitment to duty, even in the face of such loss. All the while, the waterfall that came to be named for her continued to pour from the Giant's Lance. Alyssa's Tears continued to fall, but not one drop would ever reach the ground.


Author's Note: In canon, Alyssa's Tears is the name of a waterfall on the Giant's Lance. Not a single drop ever reached the valley floor. It was named for Alyssa Arryn, who supposedly did not shed a tear hearing her family was butchered. Once again thanks to the amazing GeekyOwl for helping me write this chapter! Couldn't do it without you man!

Also reminder that the next chapter is posted on a certain site.