Alys
It was warmer in Kings Landing the last week than Alys imagines it has ever been in Winterfell her whole life, perhaps ever even. She enjoys the days with either the Tyrell ladies in the gardens or with Aleah wandering about the castle. Her seclusion to her room has all but disappeared, with no one protesting her joining of the common court life around the keep.
She enjoys her time much more, finding the company of others intoxicating after weeks of near solitude. And she enjoys the heat and sun, more than she would've thought. After Alerie's dress she finds some more conservative southern style dresses, provided by Aleah, in her wardrobe. The fabric light and airy, and over the weeks her skin gaining a soft tan upon it that she'd never had before. Enjoying the weather so much that when Jaime is her guard she insists that they play their games of chess out in the garden where they can sit with the sun shining upon them and a salty breeze coming up from the water.
Despite his initial claims of being awful at it, Jaime fared better in their games than Alys had expected. He was already better competition then Lyanna has ever been, a fact Alys informs him of after their most recent game. It was the closest he'd come to beating her since they began playing.
"Well your sister must have been horrific at it then," he remarked, leaning back in his seat after the last move.
"You are far too harsh on your skills Ser," Alys laughs, "but yes, Lyanna was pretty horrific." She preoccupies herself with resetting the pieces before her. "She would always get frustrated and often left before the game even finished." She smiles, and can feel Jaimes eyes drift over her. "It was, is, one of the few things I was always better at. Well, pretty much anything that required sitting still for long periods of times I fared better at."
"Oh?" he inquires sitting back up, "I'll be honest, I've heard quite a lot of gossip surrounding your sister since Harrenhal." He leans forward upon the table and Alys glances momentarily up from the board to meet his curious green eyes. "I haven't been sure what's true or not. Several things contradict."
"Like?" Alys asks after a moment. She looks back down at the pieces. She wasn't sure she actually wanted to hear the rumors surrounding Lyanna. She was certain they wouldn't be the most favorable considering Rhaegars crowning of her in front of Elia Martell and the more recent travesty of them both disappearing, a debacle that has resulted in deaths and rebellion.
And it seems Jaime had not actually expected her to inquire further.
Perhaps he'd expected she'd simply state what Lyanna had actually been like, with no questions about the gossip that has floated around her sisters' name since they'd first entered the frame of southern talk with their introduction at Harrenhal.
But, and Alys is both thankful and not, Jaime only pauses a second before speaking. "Most has simply been that she is, well, outgoing is the nicest word." He leans back again, reaching for his glass of wine and sipping from it before continuing, "challenging and provocative are some others." Alys moves for her own glass, listening carefully while feeling Jaimes eyes study her fiercely. "When the court returned from Harrenhal, save of course Elia who left for Dragonstone, the gossip was that Lyanna was gearing for a position as the future kings' mistress. That she had tempted the dragon prince at Harrenhal."
"That's ridiculous." Alys interrupts, looking up quickly to Jaime who holds his hands up in defense.
"It's just what was being said," he informs her gently. "Others said Elia was in on it, that she was the one who put the idea in both Rhaegar and Lyanna's minds in hopes of controlling whoever became his mistress."
"Why would she do that?" Alys questioned, it was a ridiculous theory. As ridiculous as Lyanna intentionally seducing the prince was.
Jaime shrugs, "Her first birth was harsh, and the second pregnancy was not fairing her any better at that point. The fear that Rhaegar would want more children and have to look elsewhere could be motive enough."
"No," Alys protests, "Elia looked as shocked as everyone, well, she covered it better than most but she was certainly not expecting what Rhaegar did at Harrenhal."
"From the bits I've heard and seen of her she does not seem the type." Jaime agrees.
Alys nods before taking a sip of her wine. "Lyanna was outgoing, and challenging." Alys informs him after a few moments of contemplation. "She hated the standards put upon her that she had to be some lady for a lord and rule a household and marry whoever she was told." She picks one of the queens and places it carefully in its spot. "She always kept up with the boys, she learned how to ride like them and was better than any of our brothers on horseback. Then she pretty much forced them to let her learn how to swing a sword, she would not take no for an answer even when mother and father forbade it." Alys smiles, thinking of all the times Lyanna came back late at night to their room with bruises from sparring against Ned, "She made Ned and Benjen both teach her out in the Godswood after dinner."
"I thought I heard something about a tourney sword and a Stark girl going against some squires at Harrenhal before I left… and here I was thinking it was you." He smirks at her and Alys replies with a laugh and shake of her head.
"No, not me, I don't know that I could do that." Alys laughs, "but Lyanna, well she saw a few of them picking on Howland Reed. She chased them off pretty fiercely. And got even more retribution later." Alys pauses with realization, but Jaime doesn't press further on it.
"She hated that father was making her marry Robert Baratheon." Alys admits, "she didn't want to marry someone because she was told to."
"Not the most proper lady," Jaime remarks.
"No… well she could be when she wanted. It wasn't like she was trying to be a boy." Alys tells him, "she loved music and dancing and stories about knights and princesses. Though I think she always wanted to be both the knight and princess." Alys sets her glass down, "she didn't want to marry Robert because she didn't believe he'd ever truly love her. She wanted that, true love like was always sung about. Before we'd even met Robert and they were betrothed it didn't take long to learn he already had a bastard in the Vale." She remembers when Lyanna had made those complaints, late in bed at Riverrun curled up facing each other. "Ned and I both tried to comfort her worries, Ned believed that Robert would shape up upon marriage. Though after I met him myself I worried that was just Ned believing the best of his friend."
"Yes, I've heard a rumor or two about Roberts affinity for ladies."
"I even asked my father if Lyanna could be released from it, offered to take her place to marry Robert." Alys confesses. "I didn't tell anyone, just asked father once. He said no. For one Robert had become quite smitten with Lya after first meeting her at Harrenhal and would possibly take offense at it being changed. Then I figured he had other plans for me, though I never learned what."
"No betrothal for you yet?"
"No," Alys shakes her head, "at least not one that I had heard of." She sighs, "a part of me wondered if he wanted to keep me for last, I was closest with him." She frowns and takes another quick drink, grief stirring in her heart at it all. "I would always sit with him in his solar while he worked. I even helped him with the ledgers after mother passed. I like to think a part of him didn't want me to ever leave." She presses her mouth into a thin line before shaking her head. "What about your family? You haven't spoken of them much. If I'm honest I've only heard fleeting stuff myself about them."
"Oh?" he laughs, "now I'm the curious one. I can presume some of what you might have heard. My brother the imp, my father who shits gold and my twin who my father intended for Rhaegar himself."
"I had heard bits and pieces of all that." She states, "when I lunch with the Tyrell girls and you're not my guard they are quick to gossip about house Lannister." She looks over at him and studies him. "Tell me about your sister. I've heard she's quite beautiful."
A soft look appears on Jaimes face at that, but he covers it quickly with a shrug, "yes well, we were quite identical until certain developments got in the way. So of course she's as beautiful as I am handsome." He says it with a smug smile that draws a chuckle from Alys. But a queer look still lingers behind it and Alys wonders if he misses his twin as much as she hers. "Cersei was always the brighter out of us two, and quick to state so." He laughs lightly, strained almost, "she was a bit like your sister in some areas I suppose, hated that at a certain age I got a sword and all she got were more expectations around her being a proper lady. Though I don't think she really wanted to learn to sword fight, it was more the principal of the thing. But if she'd tried to learn the sword father would have locked them all away or sent her off somewhere far from us all…" He pauses, a bitter look flashing in his green eyes. "I suppose he did, I was sent away as a ward and he came here with her." He shakes his head, "worked out I suppose, she is the shining example of a proper Lannister lady, at least when she is anywhere but with me."
"Do you miss her a lot?" Alys asks with gentleness in her voice.
"Very," he nods, pursing his lips. "But there is not much to be done about that at the moment, what with a life oath sitting upon my shoulders." He sighs and looks away.
"Well," Alys offers a small smile, "I hope to someday get the honor to meet her."
He barks out a laugh but quickly shakes his head and moves on from it. "Any other questions of my family."
"Oh well," she smirks, "plenty. Let's walk back to my rooms and you can tell me of your brother on the way."
She listens as he tells her about his brother Tyrion. Laughing along where appropriate and smiling over at Jaime when she notes the softness that arrives in his voice when speaking of him. It's different than when he was talking of Cersei, but softness all the same. They are still traveling the garden paths when they come across another group. Alys pauses, blinking for a moment as she recognizes Alerie walking alongside a woman she'd seen but never met.
Jaime stops them to the side and gives a small bow, Alys following quickly with a curtsy herself.
She had only ever seen the queen from afar, at Harrenhal and then briefly at the Kings tourney near two weeks ago. Where Aerys looked a far cry from what a king should look, frail and mad, Rhaella held herself tall despite it all. A stoic sort of quiet to her was what Alys had noted at both previous sightings, mindful of her position as queen and fitting to the title with her long white hair and piercing eyes of violet.
She fit the role of queen as well as Alys recalled Rhaegar fit the title of prince.
"Ser Jaime," She smiled, polite and collected towards a knight of the Kingsguard before her piercing eyes rested upon Alys. "Alys Stark, I apologize for not having made your acquaintance sooner." Her smile is gentle, Alys notes, though it seems so only upon the surface. Below the sympathetic eyes and soft smile Alys could see the severity that she'd heard followed a Targaryen.
Ruthless. It was how they came to power. Not just the dragons but the fact that they were ruthless with them, against all enemies even ones of their own blood.
The queens smile hid that well, perhaps Alys was sensitive and on edge to be able to spot it in the queens studying gaze. Eyes looking to see whether she was an enemy to be done away with or one to be kept close.
"I am certain you are too busy, and I not high enough in status here to require any apology." Alys replies, doing her best to keep the nerves from her voice, "but it is an honor to meet you now."
"Alerie has told me much of you these last few weeks," the queen remarks. "would you like to walk with us for a turn. I enjoy getting out of the castle walls when the weather is so nice."
"Of course, your Grace," Alys replies, though if she were entirely honest and able she would decline. She wants nothing more to run back to her rooms, away from the queen, from any Targaryen truly.
It was a new feeling, not necessarily fear. She didn't fear the queen, nor did she hate or blame her. What was there to blame her for, she had no control over the king. No one did.
But still, as she starts in step beside the queen and joins in light and courteous conversation with her and Alerie about the heat that had taken Kingslanding, she finds herself wanting to inch away from the Targaryen queen. The woman who wed a man who has gone mad and bore another who ran off with her sister.
The woman tied to two men who've plunged war and death upon the kingdoms.
But Alys forced that all away, smiling along as prettily as she can while the queen spoke back and forth with Alerie about their smallest children. She offers her own piece where she can but can't bring herself much deeper into the conversation. She is grateful when an armored man walks quickly up to their party and bows deeply before the queen.
The man, stood straight once more, is towering in a way that reminds her of Brandon and her father. Tall of stature and built from their skill with a sword the man was knightly. His eyes are framed by freckles and laugh lines and his hair a fiery red. A thick beard of the same coloring frames his lower face as he smiles warmly to the queen.
"Your Grace, my ladies." He acknowledges them all.
"Lord Connington," the queen greets, "have you come from the Stormlands?"
"Left with my forces after the travesty that was Summerhall," He replies, "was riding to flank Roberts forces when I received his Graces summons." Alys watches him, and takes a moment to study his crest so she can recall his name. "I'm on my way to the great hall now if you'd care to join."
Jon, she recalls. Jon Connington. Lord of Griffins Roost and if she recalls correctly he squired alongside and for the prince. And apparently was recently called to court by the king.
The queen agrees to his invitation, and soon they are walking again. Alys glancing back fleetingly at Jaime who nods for her to continue along. Her urge to run back to her room only strengthens as they head towards the Great Hall. She hopes dearly that it will only be Merryweather leading court and not the king.
She knows before they've even left the gardens that it won't be. She may not yet be fully immersed in court life, but these last few weeks have gotten her involved enough to know that the king is not pleased with his hand. Not since news of Summerhall reached them.
Three battles fought by loyalists against Robert Baratheon, and three battles lost.
"I know Lady Alerie," Jon speaks, drawing her from her thoughts, "but I haven't made your acquaintance, my lady?" He looks over to her, pale eyes studying her intensely.
"Alys, Stark my lord." She replies, forcing her voice to be louder than a whisper though all she wants is to slink away as he nods and a knowing look of pity passes his eyes.
"I met your brother Eddard," He says surprising Alys. The only person she spoke about her family with or who spoke about them back was Jaime or Aleah. Others always avoided any mention of any other Stark around her. "Briefly, at a tourney a few years back at Storms End. He was there with Robert." Alys feels acutely aware of all eyes upon her, and she swears she notices Jaime step slightly closer from behind. "I was surprised a bit that despite being raised in the Vale amongst all those knights, and beside the ever boastful Robert that he didn't compete. I suppose I understand it now, I have no clue what to expect from him on the field."
Alys narrows her eyes, studying Jon closely. He doesn't say the words with mocking or humor, just states them plain and simple. No usual signs of double meaning that she was slowly coming to expect in Kingslanding. "Most lords of the north don't understand the frivolity of tourneys and playing at war for sport." She states, forming her words carefully and slowly. Nerves raising the hair on the back of her neck as she keeps her gaze upon him. "They see it as just another southern activity done for show and splendor. A waste of time, one of the older ones said to my father when he let us head south for Harrenhal. Even worse when someone dies because of it."
Jon makes an amused noise of understanding. "I suppose they have a point there. But it is also a way to earn glory when the kingdoms are at peace. How else would new knights be made when there are no wars to be fought."
"Do not get me started on Northern thoughts upon Knighthood." Alys says back quick with a tight smile. She felt utterly on edge talking with him, with the queen watching and as they passed other lords and ladies of the court on their way through the Red Keep to the Great Hall. She felt as though any moment she'd step in the wrong place and fall to a fiery pit below her to be swallowed up.
She's thankful when the queen interrupts upon entering the hall. Excusing them as she heads towards foot of the Iron Throne where Owen Merryweather and the rest of the small council stand huddled. Jon and Alerie bid farewell to Alys as well, heading with the queen and leaving her only with Jaime at her side.
"Mind if we stay?" He asks after a few moments of her catching her nerves. "I'm curious what has drawn the king to court, and of course why Merryweather looks as though he's fitting to fill a bath with his sweat." She glances towards him and notes the extreme worry and concern upon his face.
She's going to protest when he adds, "we can leave if it turns south. I just often prefer to hear news first hand rather than through the grape vine of court gossip." She nods and lets him lead her up to the balconies above, the two of them stood against the railing amongst some of the other lords and ladies and watching as the king comes out and sits upon his sharp throne.
As Alys settles into her room for the evening she finds herself full of relief that she hadn't had to watch another man burn.
She can't say she was fond of Owen Merryweather. As, former, Hand to Aerys he should have been the one to put a stop to the kings killing of her father and brother. He should have been the one to keep it from getting anywhere close to that outcome. She felt no fondness towards the man.
But she is glad still that she didn't see him burn.
Some might have wished for it in her position. Seeing the man who should've stopped the death of her father die in the same way might be poetic for some. But Alys would be overjoyed only to never see another man burn. So when the king dismissed him, exiling him and stripping him of land and title, Alys was only relieved.
When he was called before the king the tension within the room had risen. It had been common gossip that the king was getting fed up with his hand. But idle gossip turned to fear when faced with it head on. The king had spoken, graveled voice loud despite his age and health, anger and paranoia seeping through his words as he accused and condemned Merryweathers lack of action against the rebellion threat. When the king's words slowed and his breath rasped, the entire hall was left with tight faces and silence that no one but him could break.
Alys hadn't even realized she'd held her breath until it escaped her at the Kings final sentence. She also hadn't realized until after Merryweather was being escorted away and Jon Connington stepped before the king that in her apprehension she'd gripped Jaimes hand with her own on the railing.
She'd been reeling from relief when she noticed, moving her hand away and interlacing her own together in front of her while she watched Jon Connington be raised to the position of the Kings Hand. He announced he would be leaving the next day with his men, and a selected retinue of Knights currently still in Kings Landing.
She'd left with Jaime not long after that, walking in silence back to her room in the Maiden Vault. She'd invited him in but he declined, stating that the change of guard would come soon and it would be best if he was outside her door for that.
So she sat alone, slowly undoing her braids and silently wishing that she had a window to look out at the slowly darkening sky. She'd spotted a bit of sunset on their walk over, but had been still left with a mix of relief and leftover nervousness that they'd moved quickly and she was inside before she realized.
She goes to sleep soon, nerves fading and relief still looming. But a small thought, that brings her guilt, crosses her mind as she nears unconsciousness.
The question of why Merryweather got to live while her father and brother did not.
The following day, Alys joined Alerie and Mina along with several other ladies of the court to watch as Jon Connington marched out of the city with his men. It felt odd, watching an army leave to go against her own brother and allies. The others around her were there, wishing the men well whether out of loyalty to the crown or loyalty to a specific knight riding with Jon.
But while she didn't will for any of the men marching to die, she had no wishes of support towards them. She hoped instead for them to fail, not die if it can be helped but not reach Robert or Ned or Jon Arryn. She wished, fleetingly, that it was an army marching into the city instead. And at the head of it wasn't the red haired Jon Connington but her brother come to get her away and to find Lyanna.
But it wasn't. So as the last of the army left the gates, she turned towards Aleah and motioned that she was done. The pair left the balcony of ladies and instead wandered aimlessly for a while about the keep. Jonothor Darry followed loosely behind them, paying little mind but to make sure they weren't wandering too far from him.
Eventually the pair returned to her room, leaving Darry out in the hall they settled themselves with a game of chess.
"Is your father fighting in this war?" Alys asks after a few moments of idle conversation. "He's a knight of the reach correct?"
"He is," Aleah states, "so I image he's involved, serving under Lord Tarly." She moves her piece across the board and returns to writing upon some parchment as Alys takes her turn.
"Is that letter for him?" Alys inquires.
"Yes," Aleah nods, "but I'm sending it first to my sister. She serves the Lady of Horn Hill currently as her handmaiden." Alys hums gently, "it's easier to get a letter there. She'll be able find where to send it better than I could. Plus, since the fighting broke out our letters have been restricted to only certain houses."
Alys nods, moving her own piece and staring at her hands. "I've been writing letters. When I can't sleep I'll write one to Lyanna, or Ned, or Benjen." She admits it quietly. She trusts Aleah, greatly, but she also worries still whether or not the things she says to her is truly kept in confidence. "I usually burn them the next morning. I don't want someone to spot them and think I'm doing something to cause trouble. Most of them are only written about how I am, that I'm safe or what I've been doing." Alys watches as Aleah moves a piece poorly across the board. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't…"
"I understand." Aleah states, looking up with a gentle gaze. "You miss them, and it's hard. There's no way around it, you're a hostage and who knows exactly what they've been told."
"It makes me worry." She confesses, "what Benjen or Ned are thinking. Do they think I've been killed like father and Brandon? Or that I'm being held, chained, in the dungeons of the keep…" She pauses, building up a strange thought and courage along with it. "If I wrote one, just saying that I am safe and unharmed to Benjen. Would your sister be able to send it to Winterfell?"
"Alys…" Aleah's eyes shift, warning filling them and Alys shrinks back.
"Never mind." She says quick, "it was a stupid idea. Even if it was only a few words that would be asking you to risk yours and your sisters' life." She finishes the game, taking Aleah's king and moving away. "I'm going to the Godswood, alone… I'm sorry again for even asking."
And she leaves Aleah alone in the room, moving quickly through the halls until she's knelt before the southern heart tree and left only with thoughts of prayer to her brothers.
Eddard
The air is crisp and windy when Ned wakes in the early hours on their travel south from Moat Cailin. They were steadily making their way through the Riverlands, with outriders heading further south for hopes of catching news or sight of Roberts own army marching north to meet them. He spends his mornings walking amongst his own men, stopping at the small fires strewn about camp to greet his men, high lords and their soldiers alike. He'd walk the length of the northern camps until arriving at Jon Arryn's own tent, arriving just before their commanders to talk about their own plans and any news brought in by raven or outrider.
They were only a days march from Riverrun now, and were stuck waiting for Hoster Tully to ride out and meet them at their current camp. Jon had been exchanging letters by raven with the Lord Paramount of the Trident. From what Ned has been told, Lord Tully was open to the alliance and joining their cause. But was still waiting till the three of them were met in person to pledge his official support and truly call upon his banners.
But Ned and Jon felt confident that the old lord of the Riverlands wouldn't be backing out of their deals, not with the rumors of various other lords around the area pulling their own forces together.
A part of Ned worried over it, hoping that Hoster Tully was a man of honor, and wouldn't be one to ride against them unwitting in hopes of gaining favor with a mad king.
Regardless, Ned knew the lord should be arriving soon. He stood, looking down at their maps while Jon spoke to their commanders. His eyes wandered towards the Stormlands, to where the wooden stags stood indicating Robert and his forces camped by Storms End. That was the last they'd heard from Robert. He'd rode back to Storms End following three successful battles at Summerhall and written them upon his return to the keep. He'd kept his own plans written sparingly in case of the letter being intercepted. But the basics of his intentions were for Stannis holding Storms End while he headed North.
As the day went on, Ned felt an odd sense of discomfort with the fact that they weren't marching today. After several days that had consisted of near constant movement save the evening and early morning he felt a jittery sense of self. He filled his day with what movement he could, sparring with several of his lords and men before the arrival of Hoster. As well as reading a letter from Benjen, which primarily consisted of inquiries about their sisters.
Both Jon and him had men out looking for any whisper of Lyanna and Rhaegars positioning. Something that always came back to disappoint Ned, with no news of either of them coming to light. With Alys he wasn't truly sure whether he was more or less comforted in the fact that he knew where she was. A bit of both, he supposed. He was relieved that he knew she was alive and that there was no mystery to her location. But the where was also an issue in itself, kept captive by a mad king that had killed their father and brother left Ned with just as much tossing and turning at night as not knowing a thing about Lyanna's situation.
It was mid-afternoon when the Tully party arrived at their camp. Hoster riding strong upon his horse with his men flanking around him, their banner flapping above them as they moved through the camp. Ned and Jon greeted the party at Jons tent, welcoming in Hoster and his brother before they fell into discussions.
It went as quick as Jon had predicted it would, only a few hours to work out some of the details.
Ned would marry Catelyn Tully as his brother had been intended to before this whole mess had begun. The wedding would occur within a fortnight at Riverrun. It was also decided that Jon Arryn would wed Hoster's younger daughter when Ned married the elder.
It was through the two marriages that Hoster agreed to pledge his sword and his men to the rebellion. It was as Brynden Tully left to send out the ravens to the Riverlords that a scout entered quickly with news of Robert.
Jon reads the letter aloud to them all. Telling them of Robert falling injured near Ashford during a short battle with forces from the Reach. He had retreated, scattered his forces with commands to go north towards the Riverlands. But he and his men were all pursued, first by the Tyrells and then by Jon Connington of Griffins Roost. Ned gripped the table as he listened, worried over Robert's injuries and that he was separated from most of his men.
"Stoney Sept," Jon states after the letter, "that's where he writes from." Jon glances down at the map before them. "How soon can the men you have closest march?" He looks over at Hoster who studies the map as well.
"I'll send for them now; they can be here within a day. At most two." Jon nods, and with that Tully leaves the two of them stood over the map and a letter.
"I should leave now," Ned states, "the sooner we get there…"
"It will do no good for Robert to stagger our forces arrivals there." Jon interrupts. "Wait for Hosters men, you'll be stronger with more men when you go against Connington and his royalists. Even if you left now, by the time you arrive he'll have had time to set himself up in the town and fortify it. If you go alone and his force is larger and stronger then we'll risk losing you and your men as well. Roberts best chance is if we go as a united force. He's separated from his men and alone, he can hide in the town."
"And the people there won't give him up?"
"Perhaps they will, or perhaps they won't." Jon states, his voice tense. "But it is Robert, if anyone can get a town to hide him from royalists it will be him." He sighs, running a hand over his face before moving around the table towards the exit. "But you'd better prepare your men to march, and inform them it will be a hasher one than before."
Sorry for the long wait! But I hope you all enjoy!
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