Eddard
Moat Cailin is a welcome sight when Ned arrives just over a fortnight after departing from Winterfell with his own men. The ruined stronghold was as foreboding a sight to Ned as it had been all the other times he'd seen it.
But it wasn't truly the sight of the stronghold that settled Ned, but the sight of the men camped for miles around it. Banners of the northern houses could be seen in all directions. Umber, Karstark, Mormont, Reed and more waved in the slight wind as Ned rode through the camps.
Across the field, south of the Northern camps, he spotted the sky blue falcon of Jon Arryn, surrounded by other sigils of the Vale bringing simple relief to Ned as the worry of not meeting with Jon faded away.
He rides towards the falcon, stopping frequently to speak with the other Lords of the North as he went. Several of the Northern Lords who stopped him on his way telling him that they'll follow him to the gates of Kingslanding to get justice for Rickard and Brandon and all the northmen killed by Aerys.
Jon Arryn stands behind a table in his tent, staring down at a map of the Seven Kingdoms held down with rocks. He glances up when Ned enters, offering a smile and a nod to welcome him in. "I saw you met no defiance from any of your lords when you called the banners." Ned walked forward to study the map himself as Jon spoke, "Robert only just arrived at Storm's End but he's already written that he's had a few houses who have begun to refuse join against the crown."
"Gulltown went well though," Ned notes, looking at the collected unit pieces to represent the Vale. "Hopefully Robert fairs just as well in the Stormlands."
Jon nods, "Grafton put up a good fight, but it was not a strong enough one when it came to it." Ned followed Jons eyes to Riverlands, knowing as well as Jon that they'd have to pass through there to meet with Roberts forces when they'd gathered. "Robert got the final strike upon him, his forces fell apart quickly after that and came to our side with no more resistance."
"Sounds like Robert," Ned says with a slight smile. He looks up at Jon and studies the concentrated look upon his face. "You have the look that you get when you've got something planned…"
"I do," He states. "The Riverlands hasn't declared either way, I'm hoping to swing them to our side."
"Hoster Tully's daughter was engaged to Brandon," Ned looks down at Riverrun upon the map, "He has a right to be offended at Brandons death like us."
"That could be true," Jon sighs, "but he could also decide it better in his interests that he stays loyal to the crown." Jon taps his fingers against the table as he thinks. "Unless we give him something that would make the risk of rebelling worth it."
Ned looks up at Jon who stares at him with sympathy in his eyes. "You know what you want to offer…" Ned glances down once more and pushes what he knows Jon will say from his mind.
"Your father and Lord Tully had made an arrangement to marry his daughter to the future lord of Winterfell. At the time that was Brandon."
"But now it is me," Ned clutches a fist, the words bitter in his mouth. He feels a pang of hurt and guilt in his chest whenever one of the men around him call him Lord Stark, and now the pain and guilt increase with the thought of marrying Brandons betrothed.
Ned finally forces a nods after several moments of silence. "Okay."
He feels ill saying it. Ill at the idea of marrying his brothers betrothed. All of it made him ill, being Lord of Winterfell, marrying the Tully girl, this war that is costing him his family.
He didn't want it, he wanted Brandon to be here in this tent speaking with Jon Arryn instead of him.
Once they ride out with their forces towards the Riverlands he wishes it were Brandon heading to marry Catelyn Tully. Brandon speaking to his commanders and spending the evenings planning with Jon.
He wishes he were here to support his brother in this rebellion. Not to be one of the ones leading it.
Jaime
It was quite clear to every noble in Kings Landing that the King was beginning to get quite tired of his Hand.
Lord Merryweather, who had taken over after Jaime's father had left, had never seemed the most efficient of men. Chosen as Hand likely because of his proficiency at throwing feasts and lavishing praise upon Aerys and not for his proficiency with politics and war. Which it seems the man has decided these last few months that war was not an issue in the Seven Kingdoms, despite the word of it coming from the Vale, Stormlands, and North respectively.
As even when news of Gulltown and Jon Arryn calling his banners reached court, the Hand hadn't stirred to rally men against the upstarts. Choosing to rely instead on those lords that were loyal in the Vale, and as such paying for their inability to overcome those who were more loyal to Lord Arryn. Even after that blunder, the Kings Hand still has yet to truly stir against the rising news of more rebels rising at the Baratheon lords call to arms in the Stormlands or the whisperings that the Northmen have met up with Jon Arryn's knights of the Vale near Moat Cailin.
No, Owen Merryweather was by all appearances ignoring the threats and passing them off as momentary rise-ups that will fall upon themselves and require little to no attention from the crown
Thus the quite lavish spending for this year's feast and festivities celebrating King Aery's rule and the anniversary of his crowning. The tourney yard and jousting list were set up for the day and the smells of a feast were already filling the areas near the kitchens as Jaime wanders through the halls towards the White Sword Tower to get his duties from the Ser Gerold. He holds a small hope that he would be free for the day, given leave to enter the tourney and perhaps not be near when something potentially goes wrong.
That hope was small though, and thus he doesn't show his disappointment when the White Bull informs him he'll be spending his day guarding the Stark girl.
As he left the tower and headed towards the Maiden Vault he felt a bitter resentment flare towards the girl, the Bull, and his own situation here. Not only would he be stuck guarding, and not allowed to joust in the tourney, he would be stuck inside with the girl.
Left completely out of the festivities.
It wasn't her fault, he tried to tell himself, she likely would be bitter or upset about the fact that she was locked away from the festivities as well. Perhaps not though, as why would she want to celebrate the crowning of the king who killed two of her family and wanted to kill a third? Then again, it would not be too difficult to ignore that so that she could simply enjoy something fun in Kings Landing for once.
Jaime paused at the steps of the stairs leading to the Maiden Vault, considering his thoughts before letting out a sour sigh and turning back towards the White Sword Tower.
The White Bull seems to consider Jaime seriously for several moments after he inquired upon Alys and the Tourney festivities before giving a stern nod. "I do not see why she can't attend the feast or festivities. Though I'll have you go to Merryweather to check with him as well. She's his ward after all." The older knight then sends Jaime on his way.
At the Hands Tower he finds Merryweather with a slew of people who he was sending this way and that to finish preparations in the tourney yard and the Great Hall. "Ah Ser Jaime, is there something you require?" the Hand asks once he notices Jaime's presence in the doorway.
"Yes," he steps further into the room, "the Lord Commander has assigned me to the Stark girl today, but we were unsure whether she should be allowed at today's festivities?" He didn't want to say it was him that wondered this. It felt less personal if it was something the Lord Commander was inquiring about, rather than something Jaime was asking for.
A servant dressed in fine garb is attempting to grab Merryweathers attention as the Lord considers, "yes… yes. I do not see issue with that so long as you keep with her and she is kept in check."
Jaime doesn't bother replying, only nodding with a bow and departing. Leaving the man to tend to the affairs of the kingdom, or at least those that are to do with today's festivities.
His walk to Alys's chambers are met with the bustling staff making their preparations for the feast in the main hall and others making sure the tourney grounds are prepared for the joust and melee both. He passes maids and cooks and guards preparing, each giving a gentle nod to the passing Kingsguard until he arrives at the Maiden vault and outside Alys's quarters. He rasps his knuckles briefly against the door before entering.
Alys glances up at him from the chess table before her. Her handmaiden is elsewhere, likely dragged by someone to help prepare some part of the festivities. She considers him a second before moving a piece in front of her.
"Tough competition?" He questions after a few moments of her moving pieces about with consideration, a quiet air hanging over the both of them.
"Oh yes," she states while moving another piece as he shuts the door behind him and enters entirely. "Aleah was playing, but another handmaid, one of the queens I believe, came rushing in worried over something for the feast… or perhaps it was something to do with the tourney?" She shrugs and another piece moves, "so I took over here for her."
"Well," Jaime states, "I would recommend getting dressed for the festivities, though perhaps you are. I'm unclear on northern fashions. Or southern really, but I see that more often."
She looks back at him then, her brow furrowed as she questions him. "I don't believe I'd be allowed. Doomed hostage remember." There is no bitterness in her eyes or tone when she puts the words out, but more a bit of resignation just barely there.
She starts to turn back to her solo game of chess when he speaks. "All settled, so long as you behave this evening you are allowed to wander the tourney grounds and join the feasting and drinking."
She stops moving for a few moments, fingers holding a piece lightly over a spot as she considers. Whether it's his words or the pieces' movement he's not sure until she sets the piece down and shakes her head. "I believe I'll stay in, though thank you for thinking of me."
Jaime stood puzzled a moment, "you'll stay in?" She nods with a noise of affirmation, not even looking at him instead focusing almost pointedly on the chess set before her. "Not long ago you were complaining of boredom, now given a chance for some entertainment you refuse it?"
She glances up from her board with a huff. "What does it matter if I refuse it? Yes, I am bored, and depressed, and hate this room with more passion every day I wake here… but I fancy it more than walking about the tourney yard to have people avoid and ignore me. I'm far better here than at a tourney celebrating the man who burned my father and brother alive."
She turns back to her chess table. Jaime sighs, but he feels far more annoyed at her than sympathetic. "You don't have to go near him, and fuck what people go whispering. Focus on the more entertaining parts. Wine, food, dancing at the feast…"
"Why do you care so much?" She interrupts with accusation, "you've made it clear enough that you aren't my friend and don't care for my happiness in this situation so why push for me to go?"
Because he doesn't want to spend the day locked up here as well, in the depressing Maiden Vault with its depressing hostage maiden. He doesn't say this, lest he get himself hit with more books and pillows. He does imagine that with enough force behind the throw those chess pieces would hurt a bit. "I care that you don't go hanging yourself or something like that… I figured something fun would slow that possible outcome."
"Well you were wrong." She replies but she stares at him still. "And you're lying, you're my guard for the day and you want to go, and so you need me to go."
"Congratulations you're not dimwitted like some ladies here."
"Well, perhaps… actually no I'm content in here for the day," she says the words with more spite than he'd have thought her possible of as she turns back to the chess game.
"Lady Alys."
"Ser Jaime." She counters with a glare. "I had figured that you didn't like guarding from in here, so you can return to your post." She is bitter, he notes, almost like Cersei when something isn't going her way.
"Fine, I don't want to spend my day in here."
"With me."
"I could take or leave you if I'm honest."
She glares at him but seems to consider something, "if I decide to go enjoy these festivities, you'll speak with me? You won't leave me to wander like a sad lost duck in the middle of a flock of chattering nobles?"
"Sure, I'm certain I can make conversation so long as you aren't boring."
"I'll try to not be boring."
"Good, get dressed if you'd like." He starts to turn to the door.
"One more thing..." Jaime groans, looking back to her again. "You'll have to play a game of chess with me, every time you're my guard, at least… for a month." She smiles prettily at him like she's won something fine.
"I'm awful at chess."
"Then you can think of it as practice."
"Fine, you have a deal. Now…" he waves a hand for her to dress.
"I'll be just a few moments." She waves him from her room and a several moments later she exits beside him in a simple lace and silk dress and motions for him to lead her out with a smile lit upon her face.