Alys
Neither of the Stark girls had ever been to a tourney before. Neither had Benjen, but he was not near as excited about the adventure as the twins. Over his time in the Vale Ned had attended a few, and Brandon was far too northern to truly care for the spectacle that was a southern tournament, though that wouldn't stop him from entering the joust.
But both Alys and Lyanna were struck in awe when they arrived at Harrenhal. First by the number of people surrounding the old black castle. Tents spread out in camps far and wide surrounding the castle and so diverse in their inhabitants that walking through it all would take you across the Seven Kingdoms if you walked the whole span of camps. Lord Whent had truly attracted the whole seven kingdoms and beyond to the tourney at Harrenhal.
Then there was the castle itself, entirely befitting that of song and story.
The tall towers more fitting for the giants' old nan talked about in her stories meant to scare them and delight them. Towers reaching so far to the sky the pair of girls would wonder what the feeling of standing atop it all would be. The melted stone breathing to life the stories of the Targaryen's own burning of the keep from history long ago. The Godswood sprawling for acres that Alys found herself lost and wandering about until coming upon the hauntingly old and weeping weirwood at the heart of it.
The first night before the true festivities had begun Lyanna had dragged her sister about the camps, the pair dropping into feasting parties and dancing to music they'd heard before and music they'd never before been granted so far north. They drank and laughed and danced through that first night before collapsing upon their bed in their own tent breathless and giddy from the evening and only growing more excited for the festivities that would come by sunrise.
Harrenhal was the only tourney Alys had ever been to before.
Many called it the grandest tourney of its time. And it had been wonderful, filled with magic and delight that had made her feel like a girl from a song. But then the song had turned solemn and slow.
She had loved the tourney at Harrenhal, but she also hated it all the same for what came after.
The tourney celebrating King Aerys was smaller than Harrenhal had been. Where Lord Whents tourney was grand and so full of guests coming to compete for glory and reward, the tourney today had less champions from across the seven kingdoms preparing to compete for glory.
Nonetheless, out on the tourney yard one might mistake the world for being at peace.
The grass is green and lush, the wind a light breeze that ruffles the ladies' hair as they mill about and the sun shines brightly upon the festivities for the anniversary of the king. It is the image of what Alys had always imagined Kings Landing to be before the truth had burned it down before her.
She pushes any thoughts of burning and reality away, deciding to make the most of this day of festivities regardless of their true purpose. It was better to pretend as though she were simply some random lady visiting the capital for the tourney, a passerby who'd never have to learn the truth beneath Kings Landings pretty façade.
The tourney grounds of Kings Landing were a smaller sight than that of Harrenhals, and utterly lacking in the field of tents of those coming for the tourney. Most of those who were here for the tourney were either already residents of Kings Landing or found lodging in the city and keep. Lords and Ladies of the court milled about the yard drinking the wine from the servants who moved around the area, and knights from the surrounding areas prepped their amour, or their horse, or swung their swords to ready themselves for the joust or the melee.
As a servant passed by Alys collected a small goblet of wine for herself and another that she offered towards Jaime, "unless of course that goes against the code of Kingsguard to drink on duty."
All that earns is a roll of his eyes before he takes the wine from her, "one drink is hardly a punishable offense even if they were worried about us holy knights of the Kingsguard being drunkards."
"No of course, too blessed by the Seven to be drunks, leave that to the sour old knights who no longer have the skill to win at these events." She sips her wine while walking towards the melee yard. "How many tourneys have you entered?"
"A few… three I believe." He considers for a second while sipping from his wine, "and I won those melees before you ask how I fared."
"Not the joust though?"
"I wasn't a fan of the joust," He shrugs. The pair of them watch as the competitors of the melee prepare with their swords and their horses. She glances over at him and smiles a bit, "Don't give me that look, if I'd entered I'm quite certain I'd have won them all."
Alys laughs over her wine and shakes her head, "I was going to say that I also preferred watching the melee compared to the joust."
"You've only been to the one tourney?"
She nods and looks towards the melee field as Lord Merryweather entered it with two other council members. A smile and far more fanfare than Alys would think warranted upon the three of their faces as they commence with the opening ceremony speaking words of devotion and celebration all towards Aerys.
It had truly seemed as though the gods had blessed Lord Whents tourney the first morning, the air was warm and the sun shone down brightly upon the castle grounds and tourney yard.
Alys had woken to the sounds of others bustling about the camps outside her tent. She'd laid in bed with her sister for near half an hour just listening to the sounds of laughter and chatter as those around them readied for the day. It was only when Benjen burst into the tent that Lyanna woke with a glare towards their loud and laughing brother before tossing a pillow his way in retribution for waking her from what she'd said was an absolutely enchanting dream.
The sisters had helped each other dress before heading out to join their brothers for the festivities. Brandon was in charge, with father still north in Winterfell, and had already informed the two girls and Benjen that they could each have a glass of wine, no more lest they get themselves in trouble. Though that wouldn't stop them. Nor would wine would be the last reason for any trouble they would get into at Harrenhal.
The Starks found themselves at their seats in the stands looking over the tourney yard. Lyanna sat herself beside Ned and had pulled Alys down to her other side only to produce a small look of frustration when Ned moved over to let Robert Baratheon take the seat beside her. She'd leaned over to Alys and whispered, "our brother is a traitor," into her ear.
"You can't avoid him forever, Lya." Alys whispered back as the King and Prince were escorted to their own high seats of honor by the Kingsguard. "He's your betrothed, it's best if you make the most of it. It could certainly be worse."
"It could also certainly be better," Lyanna huffed, watching as Lord Whent bent low in a bow before the Targaryens. "Gods, is that the king?"
Alys followed her view to the man sat upon an intricately carved chair, dark wood with velvet padding. Dragons with rubies for eyes were carved for the armrests. But more drawing to the eye was the man in the seat, curled forward with hands gripped tight on the armrests. Even from the distance the paleness of his skin could be spotted, under his eyes were dark and he looked frighteningly thin. He looked ages older than he should, and his eyes darted about the yard frantically.
"He looks sickly," Alys said with surprise, "should he be here if he's ill? The travel couldn't be helping him fair well."
"No one's seen him outside of Kings Landing in so long," Lyanna leant forward a bit, looking to study the king better, "I can entirely understand why now."
"Lya…"
"I meant no offense, not that he could hear me if I did." Lyanna smiled and turned her attention to a different Targaryen, "the prince though, he's more stunning then I'd imagined even with the way the ladies raved about him last night."
Alys moved her gaze from the sickly Aerys to Rhaegar, who looked how one would imagine the Dragon King should look.
Perhaps Aerys had when he was younger.
Rhaegar appeared the exact image of what a Targaryen would be; tall, long white hair and piercing purple eyes noticeable even from across the tourney yard.
"He is handsome," Alys muses before taking her attention from the Targaryens opposite them and instead to the opening ceremony where the Kingsguard have taken up stances while a young knight in golden armor moves towards them across the yard.
"What's happening?" Alys asks, leant over her sister so Ned could hear.
"It appears the Kingsguard is getting a new member." Robert answered before anyone else, "one I'm sure the Kings Hand is thrilled with." He laughed at his own words and Alys saw Lyanna roll her eyes before turning back to watch as Gerold Hightower stood before the young knight, a white cloak in his hand.
"Its Jaime Lannister," Benjen whispered to her, sat on her other side. "That's why Robert said the hand wouldn't be thrilled."
"He's Tywin Lannisters heir," Alys stated, recalling her lessons on the great families of Westeros. "That would be like Brandon joining the nights' watch."
"Yes, well with far more gold and glamor." Benjen said with a smirk, "perhaps that's why there are, from what I could see, no Lannisters of Casterly Rock here. Save that one of course."
Alys watched as Hightower swung the cloak around Jaimes shoulders. She'd smiled lightly at the look of pride upon the boy's face as he rose and bowed to the King before walking off the yard so the first of the events could begin.
"Can we go get some food Alys?" Lyanna asked once they began and Alys nodded with understanding as Lyanna stood quickly and moved away from Robert. They were barely out of earshot when her sister groaned, "Gods if I must listen to him go on about how he's going to dominate the melee tomorrow I might as well have more than one glass of wine in my vicinity."
Alys giggled at her sister as they walked towards the food tents, "he can't honestly be as bad as you believe him to be." She remarked, "perhaps he's simply nervous and overcompensating, you are a beautiful girl that he's likely realized he'll be spending the rest of his days with, gods willing."
"Please do not remind me of that," Lyanna whined.
"He's trying to impress you, after a while he'll likely settle and you can get to know him truly."
"I would rather not." Lyanna stated before squinting off at something, "what is happening over there?" And before Alys could inquire what her sister was on about Lyanna was off, grabbing a tourney sword from a pile near some training squires and rushing towards a group of boys that were surrounding another upon the slumped upon ground.
The melee goes quick with only a few dozen competitors for the day. Alys watches with interest, deciding in the first few minutes to root for Ser Barristan who rides upon his own white spotted charger against the other competitors. She claps loudly when he unhorses one of the opponents and keeps her eye on him throughout the chaos.
She's even a bit sad when Barristan is unseated by another knight riding past with a longsword. She sips her wine slowly, sneaking occasional peaks to Jaime sat beside her who is looking more than a bit annoyed and sour at the remaining competitors of the melee fighting amongst each other.
Eventually the melee ends with a young man with who'd lit his sword alight at the start of it all the victor.
Jaime and her leave their spots in the stands to wander the tourney yard as they begin to set up for the joust. Alys leads them towards where a feast of food has been left prepared for the noble attendants of the tourney to pick at and enjoy until the feast later tonight.
Alys looks over the selection of breads, meats, and sweets. "For someone who forced me to attend this tourney you don't seem to be enjoying yourself." She finally grabs a small apple cake from the tables and takes a delicate bite while turning to study Jaime.
"I did not force you," He states, almost a bit petulantly in a way that she finds mildy entertaining.
"Pressured and persuaded." She teases, enjoying the way he frowns at her.
"I would've been content to stay outside your door all day." He remarks grabbing his own bit of food from the table.
"Clearly not, considering how annoyed you seemed at my initial refusal." She takes another bite of cake. "Was the melee not up to your standard? Or are you just no longer the fan of tourneys you seemed this morning?"
He's quiet for a moment, picking at his food as a way of avoiding giving an answer. "Watching and competing are far different things." He finally complains, glancing down at her with a sour look. "It was enjoyable enough, but it's hard to truly enjoy the spectacle when you know that if you'd been allowed to compete you would have won without question."
"You are quite the overconfident man Ser Jaime," she points out before moving along the table, searching for something else to catch her fancy after finishing off the last piece of her cake.
"I have every right to be," he tells her as she reaches for a bit of honeycomb and takes a bite. "I know I'm better than near every knight here in Kingslanding."
"Near every knight? Well… who are you not too overconfident about?" She smirks at him earning a roll of the eyes in her direction.
"I'm being humble." He retorts, reaching around her to retrieve a bit of smoked meat and cheese. After several moments of her staring and waiting he sighs and admits, "Hightower most like. Arthur Dayne, though he is still off missing with Rhaegar and thus doesn't quite count."
She nods along as he speaks, "those are some hefty foes." She moves along, away from the table of food and off to walk about the yard a bit. "I don't recall you competing at Harrenhal." She states after they've walked a bit, she glances at him and is met with a small bitter flash in through the green of his eyes.
"No," He sighs, his voice tight as he continues. "I'd wanted to… but the King wished me to return to Kingslanding immediately to watch over the Queen and prince Viserys."
Alys hums and purses her lips for a moment. "Shame, I do wish I could've seen you in the melee."
"I'm sure you would have been wildly impressed." He tells her, a quirk of his lips to convey his cockiness.
"I don't know," She remarks with a shrug. "I've never seen you fight, so I'm uncertain whether you would have been my choice to root for in it. Especially since my sisters betrothed was competing and is as naturally confident as you seem to be."
"Robert Baratheon? All size and brawn, I could outmatch him with speed and the barest amount of thought." Jaime states derisively.
"Plenty of the others in the melee were fast and thoughtful, yet he still won at the end." She smirks and glances forward, spotting a familiar figure. "Come I want to speak with Barristan." She leads him onwards towards the tent set up for the Kingsguard. She pauses momentarily to pet Barristans horse where it stood grazing lightly on a patch of grass.
"Lady Alys," Barristan greets when he comes out the tent, securing his sword at his waist. "I was glad to see you joined the festivities today."
"You did wonderfully in the melee Ser," She replies with a smile, "I was sad to see you unhorsed."
"Ah, well thank you for the kind words." He bows his head slightly, "I'm sure Ser Jaime would've rather been out on the field as well."
"Yes well instead he's quite stuck with me, to the disappointment of the both of us," Alys teases with a smile as Jaime rolls his eyes. "In truth," she says with more gentleness, "I wouldn't have left my room today if Jaime hadn't convinced me a bit of fun and sunshine would do me some good."
Jaime glances over at her while Barristan looks to Jaime with surprise before nodding, "That is good, you deserve to stretch about." A moment of silence passes them before Barristan bids them both goodbye to go stand guard over the Prince Viserys in the Red Keep.
The pair make their own way back to the stands as the joust begins. Alys starting a small conversation about some random thought about a time in Winterfell and prompting a similar story of Jaimes own childhood at Casterly Rock. They spend the moments between the tilts speaking of little things like that. She tells him of her favorite spot in Winterfell's keep— small little nook near the Lords chambers where no one but her father or mother could ever find her, not even Lyanna. He tells her about the lions his late grandfather had kept at Casterly Rock until his death. They chat back and forth, following little tangents where they may until the last joust has finished and they are bidden to go back up to the Red Keep for the feast.
The Great Feast of Harrenhal was as lively as the rest of the tourney. But that first night was the only night that all the lords and ladies who'd come to the castle were feasting all together in the Hall of a Hundred Hearths. Even the King Aerys was in attendance of the feast, where in all other meals he ate alone save a taster and his Kingsguard, this one he sat above it all in the galleries overlooking the massive space of the hall.
Music echoed through the tall stone and carried across the tables as the attendants laughed and drank together.
Amongst the northerners, Alys sat between her sister and Benjen. Their newly acquired companion Howland Reed sat across from the trio of the youngest Starks. Ned sat beside Reed, brooding over an ale while he made sad eyes of longing towards a certain girl with purple eyes and an enchanted look about her. Brandon moved about the room more through the evening, laughing and conversing with near every lord and lady in the room.
"No, no, no," Alys shook her head furiously, a flush to her face and a laugh stuck in her throat. "You should have seen her Ned, Lyanna chased those squires down with the sword like she was fearless."
"I was." Lyanna states with pure confidence laced in her own voice, "those squires did not scare me, I only wish I had hit them all harder."
"Ha!" Benjen laughed, a bit of his own ale spilling, "I wish I'd seen that, sister." He looks towards Howland. "You see them somewhere in here?"
Before Reed can speak Lyanna nods and stands up upon her bench, searching the crowd and pointing each squire out amongst the long length of tables before them.
This earned her a cacophony of laughter from the table amongst them and Alys pulling at her sister between her own fits of a laughter to get her to sit back down. "Well, I imagine their knights'll be in the lists tomorrow," Benjen drinks, "shall we outfit you with armor and horse? Give you a chance to get you own revenge?"
"I don't know. It'd not do much good I fear," Howland states with a shake of his head, "I'm not a knight, I don't know much about jousting. I'd be more like to make a fool of myself."
"They are the ones who deserve to be made a fool of," Lyanna remarks with a bite to her tone, "complete asses."
"Lyanna." Ned finally returns to the conversation at his sisters' curse, "that's not…"
"I swear to the old gods and the new, Ned, if you say it's not ladylike I'll throw this wine at you." Lyanna glares before turning to her sister. "Come, Alys lets dance."
Alys had loved the feast.
She'd loved the sound of the music echoing throughout the hall. The feeling of weightlessness when she and Lyanna danced amongst the other ladies. Twirling about and laughing, drunk on wine and spirit.
The pair had even danced with others.
Lyanna had, reluctantly, danced with Robert before spiriting herself away without a word. But the pair each also danced with Howland, with Wyman Manderly, with a Dustin boy and a Mormont. Alys and her had danced with near every northern lord in attendance. But also a smattering of southern lords who they'd never met before this tourney.
Alys had spun about with Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper of Dorne telling her about the red mountains of Dorne and Sunspear on the sea. She'd danced with a pretty smile on her face with Oswell Whent and talked about the history of Harrenhal with him until Lyanna had forced her away. She'd spun about with knights and lords from all about the Seven Kingdoms. Lyanna had as well, even after Alys had decided to settle back onto the benches, content watching the laughing and dancing people next to Ned and Howland.
She'd been overjoyed when Ned finally danced with Ashara Dayne, hating how lovesick her brother had looked all evening and knowing that he hadn't the nerve to ask her to dance himself. She'd considered going for him but Brandon had beaten her to that idea, leading the most sought after girl of the dance to their shy young brother before taking a break from his rounds about the feast to sit beside Alys.
Alys had sat leant against her brother when Rhaegar had played his harp. Had laughed loudly with him when Lyanna poured wine upon Benjens head for teasing her over her tears at the Princes' music. She'd yawned as the night fell near its end. Woke later to her brother settling her in her bed after carrying her out of the feast.
"Thank you Brandon," she'd remarked with a soft and tired voice.
He'd kissed her head and wished her sweet dreams before leaving her tent.
The Great Hall had been transformed from the long empty pathways with only the Throne at the head and the skull of the great dragons of the past lining the sides. The once empty space now filled with long tables for the nobles of the court to take their seats upon and feast. The Iron Throne still loomed at the end of long hall, the last bits of sunlight shining down upon it through the stained glass, but in front of it was another long table with smaller carved thrones for the King and Queen to sit upon.
Alys wanders in hesitantly. A new apprehension washing over her as she thinks about where she would sit. Unlike out on the tourney yard Jaime wouldn't be sitting beside her, he'd have to take his place with the other guard, nearby her to keep an eye but not able to sit and chat with her like she'd have wanted.
Jaime seems to sense her nerves and glances about before leading her towards a specific spot. When Alys notices where he is leading her she feels a wave of relief pass over her upon spotting Aleah stood speaking to some other ladies. When the handmaid notices the pair coming she smiles brightly and motions Alys to sit, "I have to go tend to some things, but I am so glad you are enjoying the day."
Before she leaves them Alys notices a small smug glance Aleah gives Jaime which receives a glare from him before he bows slightly to Alys and the ladies she now finds herself surrounded by and moves back to stand his guard.
"Your name is Alys right?" one of the girls asks with a kind smile upon her face, "I am Alerie, Hightower, though married to Lord Tyrell."
She speaks kindly enough, though after weeks of being ignored by the others at court Alys feels hesitant though she attempts to hide it with a sweet smile and courtesies. "You are one of the queens' ladies am I correct?" The queen had near a dozen ladies in waiting in Kingslanding.
"Yes, this here is my good-sister Mina," She motions to the slighter girl with mousy brown hair beside her.
"Did you enjoy the tourney?" Mina asks, leaning forward on the table ever so slightly so the three could speak without having to talk too loudly over the music and conversation around them.
"Yes," Alys answers honestly, "it was nice to get out of my room for a little."
"Perhaps you could join us for our lunches in the gardens sometime." Alerie proposes before leaning just slightly closer, "Aleah is a friend, her father was a sworn knight to my husband's father."
"I've known her all my life," Mina adds, "she told us how bored you've been since you got here."
"Forgive us for not calling upon you," Alerie speaks, Alys feeling a bit of a flutter in her chest as the two girls go back and forth. "We were simply afraid. But enough time has passed that we're willing to risk a bit of fear."
"Especially since Her Grace spoke of Merryweathers proposal to marry you to Viserys."
"Viserys?" Alys furrows her brows, "he's a far bit younger than I." Though that wasn't often a big factor to arranged marriages, it wouldn't happen until he was of age. "And I don't imagine that's the best option for him, with my family in rebellion…"
"Yes and no," Alerie shrugs, "it's more of a proposal for after the rebellion is over."
Alys nods bleakly, grabbing her cup of wine and taking a long sip before setting it down. The two girls, seemingly noting her downward shift in spirit are quick to change the subject away from the topic of rebellion, traitors, and war. Moving instead to talk about frivolous things like the knights around them, the outcome of the tourney, and the hopefulness for a good long summer.
Alys offers bits and pieces to the conversation at first, enough to stay involved. But after a while before she finds herself genuinely laughing along with the ladies around her. Course after course come out before them and by the end of the sixth Alys feels light as air from the wine and food and company. The ladies around her are conscious to keep her involved in the conversations, asking about whether this custom or that is carried in the north. Sharing stories of blissful times from childhood for each of them. Laughing at jokes made towards the gossip of the court.
Throughout the meals Alys sneaks little glances toward Jaime, studying him as he stands alert behind her. Yet still he seems bored, Alys wishes lightly that he could be sat beside her, laughing at the conversations and adding his own bit of sour sarcasm as commentary.
But she understands, he isn't here as a guest but as a guard.
Still she sends him coy smiles and bits of blushing laughter whenever he notices her looking towards him. He'll roll his eyes and even convey silent jokes that earns a small giggle from her lips.
The night was going so well, she thought. She was enjoying herself entirely by the last course. She liked Alerie and Mina, and hoped that they'd been genuine with their invitations to lunch with them in the garden. She wanted to feel like this again, to feel normal. Join in the gossip about the court, eat sweets and drink wine with other ladies out in the sun.
She enjoyed the feeling of light spirit she got from the Arbor wine and company, a thing she had known she missed and longed for but hadn't realized how starved she'd truly been for it until today.
She'd been enjoying herself so much she hadn't noticed the king once throughout the feast.
Hadn't deigned or dared to look towards the high table at the head of all the others. Hadn't listened for him or looked. She was ready to go the entire evening without sparing him a thought when a croaking shout sounded over the crowd and a silence fell hard upon the laughter. She couldn't stop herself from looking with the rest towards the sound and spotting a scared server stood before the king, his pitcher of wine shaking in his hand and all color from his face gone.
"Treasonous, poisoner." The kings voice was gravel and dark, echoing in the now silent hall. "Trying to poison the king, using his wine." He shook as he spoke, "Hightower, Hightower." He shouted shrilly though Ser Gerold was beside him in an instant. "Apprehend this traitor, fetch Rossart, deal with it all. Burn it all."
Alys felt fear wash over her, and she wanted to run. She wanted to jump from her spot and run for her life.
But she was frozen, as though if she were to move he'd spot her amongst the sea of faces and decide she would be burned as well. So all she could do was watch along with all the others as the serving boy was thrown to the ground, crying and shaking as a man in dark robes brought a glowing green liquid towards him. Alys became fixed upon the boy, watching as the liquid was poured over his shaking, pleading form.
She couldn't remove her eyes from him as the fire was lit, flickers of green lighting the room in its sickly hue and the sound of the boys screams filling the hall where joyous music had once echoed. She feels the sting of tears as heat fills the area and the kings cackling intermingles with the screams in a wicked harmony.
She near jumps out of her skin when a hand lands on her shoulder. "Come on." Jaime whispers in her ear as he pulls her from the spot at the table and moves her along the edge of the hall where they can be less seen.
He pulls her through the halls and along the ramparts, leading her quickly through the keep. She doesn't pay much attention to anything but the sound of screaming. She notes without much feeling that the sound of screaming doesn't disappear until they've reached the Maidenvault.
Was he really that loud? Or was the Red Keep just designed just so that the screams could echo throughout it all so everyone would know when someone died.
The joust takes days. With so many competitors entered each day brings a new batch until the last few.
The second day is the day that the mystery knight entered the lists.
"Where is Lyanna?" Brandon asked when he joined his siblings after his last tilt for the day.
"Likely getting in trouble somewhere," Benjen laughs though he stops when Brandon shoots him a very lordly look like their fathers. "Probably just exploring the camps, as she does."
"I can go look for her?" Alys had offered but Brandon shook his head.
"She can't get in too much trouble, I hope."
Alys nodded, but she shifted slightly hoping he was correct in that assumption. In truth she knew exactly where her sister has run off to. Brandon and Benjen hadn't noted that Howland was missing as well. But Alys knew he was off in the woods with Lyanna, helping her outfit herself in armor and horse.
When the Knight of the Laughing Tree enters the first of their rounds Alys's nerves send her heart racing as she watches them race towards the opponent from House Haigh. The first knight whose squire Lyanna had chased away from Howland.
That first win earns some applause, a mystery knight was always intriguing for the audience of a joust. Alys had watched from beside Brandon as across the stands onlookers whispered theories as the Knight came out for their second bout against the second of Howlands attackers, the knight from house Blount falling even harder than the first to a cacophony of cheer.
It's the third victory that earns more theorizing and cheering from the crowd, smallfolk and noble alike. The knight from house Frey unhorsed as quickly and easily as the first two. As the Knight sat upon their own horse the two other knights had joined the third, asking how they could get their losses back from the Knight, wanting their swords and armor and horses returned to them.
The Knight, in a deep and booming voice that Alys couldn't help but smile at stated that they could get it all back so long as they teach their rude squires honor.
A task the three knights rushed to.
That night everyone was abuzz with talk of the mystery knight. King Aerys spoke his paranoia over the knight to all who would listen. At their own camp, Robert Baratheon declared with drunken confidence that he would be the man to unmask the Knight. A declaration that Alys leaned into Lyanna during, laughter falling over the pair until they excused themselves with Howland to the Godswood to celebrate the Knights successes without others about.
The next day the Knight had vanished, with only three attendants knowing the truth of the identity. Knowing the search party headed by Rhaegar and ordered by Aerys would find nothing but a shield within a tree.
It wasn't until months later, in the darkness of their room at Riverrun that Lyanna told Alys that Rhaegar had discovered her when she was hiding the shield. He'd gone searching for the knight after the last joust that second day and had found her in the woods where she changed.
The last day of the tourney Alys cheers loudly for Brandon even after the Dragon Prince unhorses him near the end of it all. She leaves the stands to meet him at his tent with little wildflowers she and Lyanna had found in the Godswood as a prize for his success, "You did wonderfully."
"I lost." He laughs, taking the flowers and hugging her before they leave the tent.
"Once," She reminds him as he walked back with her to the stands. "You won all the other times."
"That is a very positive way to look at it. Thank you." He laughs again before the pair return, sitting amongst the rest of their family. Alys sits beside Lyanna and Brandon sits behind them both.
They watch as the prince goes on to unhorse the last two competitors each, ending with Barristan the Bold falling from his horse and Rhaegar being declared the victor of the Tourney at Harrenhal by Lord Whent.
Rhaegar sits proudly upon his horse. Tall and dignified looking like an image from a painting, some gracious imagining of a song brought to life. He graciously takes the crown of winter roses from Lord Whents daughter.
The task of naming the new Queen of Love and Beauty falling upon him.
It should have been easy, Elia Martell sat with her brother and young daughter in their own bit of the stands. She looked beautiful, Alys had noted the first time she spotted the Princess of Dorne, her hair catching the sun in a way that would warrant a painting. Hands resting delicately upon her newly swelling belly, an ever present regal look upon her face.
A look that didn't falter even when Rhaegar rode past her. A look more collected than that of those around her when Rhaegar stopped before the Starks. Stopped before Lyanna with a little bow of the head before delicately placing the crown on her lap in a move that sent the Tourney at Harrenhal into the history books for reasons other than being the largest of its time.
The tears upon her cheeks aren't noticed until she's sat upon her bed and she lifts a hand to them. The taste of salt on her tongue and the quiet of the room almost suffocating.
"Thank you." She finally manages, looking up at Jaime where he stands after closing the door. "For getting me… for getting me out of there." She chokes a bit on a sob as she recalls the sight of the boy melting from the heat.
She'd seen her father die. But he'd been in a suit of armor, she hadn't seen his flesh melt off his bones.
She'd watched this boy fall apart as the fire ate away at him.
Alys looks up at Jaime, her lip quivering as the sob escapes and she slides off the bed to the ground, curling upon herself and shaking harshly. "How… how…" She tries to speak but nothing can form clearly in her mind or her throat.
She jumps when arms surround her, the feeling of armor cool against her cheek as she sobs into the crook of Jaimes neck. He holds her tightly, a hand rubbing small circles against her back.
She wept for what felt like hours.
All the tears stuck inside her since the beginning of this hell falling from her in waves. Tears ran down her face, fell upon Jaimes skin, against his armor and trailing down in droplets like rain. She didn't know she had this much in her, she hadn't realized how long she'd gone without sobs racking her body like this. Not since the night Jaime had snapped at her. How different this was from then, how different this was from after her father and brother died. She was held now. She was comforted and allowed herself to sob loudly like she hadn't ever before.
She doesn't know if she could keep the sound in if she tried, she had been quiet here for so long. Stifling sobs and screams and the need to make noise. She was a quiet person but not now.
Now she was a cacophony, she was a storm of tears that fell around them both.
Eventually the storm ends.
Sobs quieting to little whimpers, that fall silent themselves after another moment. Jaime holds her till she pushes away herself. The pair of them sat upon the ground she rubs away the tears stained against her cheeks and looks at Jaime with the gentle eyes of appreciation.
"Thank you." She says with a small hiccup after moments of quiet. "I think… I think I'm not a fan of tourneys." She achieves the smallest laugh of her own when he laughs at that.
His was a gentle laugh, soft like a feather pillow and quiet as though there was a fear that he'd startle her if he laughed too loud or too harsh.
They sit for several more moments until she moves.
The only sound around them the soft rhythm of their breathing. Standing together she thanks him again, for more than just one thing, but for everything. She tells him goodnight and after he's left she closes her eyes to everything around her and just lets the silence wash over her as though it would wash her clean of the ash, the tears, and the screams. She stands there in silence before letting out a breath and moving to ready herself for bed.