Jaime

Jaime found her sat in her usual spot before the large heart tree. Her head bowed low and hands clasped tightly before her. He doesn't know why he decided to come to the godswood, it was his day off from guarding. He was free to do as he pleased and yet he found himself here after spotting her moving briskly through the halls.

He supposes he should be more conscious of the look Darry gives him when he walks past his position at the small little entrance to the clearing with the tree. But Darry wasn't the brightest of the Kingsguard anyway, and had little interest in spreading gossip if he even thought something interesting about Jaime's presence here with the Stark girl.

"See," he says finally after a few moments of just studying her kneeling form. "The more I see you out here, supposedly praying, the less I actually believe that is what you are doing." She glances up at him, her eyes catching his and he notes a slight wetness to the corners of them that makes him hesitate slightly before continuing. "I mean, I don't think even the High Septon prays quite so often and he's supposed to be the holiest of holy."

"Well," she says, a smile upon her face that seems quite half-hearted to him. "I swear on the old and new that I mostly pray."

"Ah, see it's that mostly that is telling." He moves closer to her and watches her blush.

"I suppose I don't just pray," she concedes looking back to the tree, "but I don't do anything untoward. If I'm not praying I'm just quiet I guess. Or thinking."

"It's certainly a good place to think," he states, "no one to interrupt your thoughts."

"Except for you, of course," she jests. Her eyes flicking back towards him, "but I don't mind."

"Well," he smirks, "even if you did I think at this point you've bullied me out of ignoring you. Thus you must deal with interruptions."

"A small price to pay for a friend here," she smiles, more sincerely, while turning back to look at the tree.

Jaime feels a queer sensation at that. Friend. He considers, damn it. "Were you thinking just now, or praying?"

"A bit of both." She tells him as she stands, wiping the leaves from her dress before the pair of them move over to the bench to sit. "I was worrying about my brothers. Not just Ned, I know he's at risk every second he's out there fighting a war." Jaime nods along, watching her fiddle with the fabric of her skirt absently. "But also Benjen. I worry about how he fares in Winterfell. If he's holding it together or not. He's the youngest, he's hardly ever had to be the responsible one and now he's left alone in the North, with all his family either dead or missing or fighting a war."

"You don't think he's with your brother?"

"I know he won't be." Alys tells him. "That's a small comfort actually. That he's safe in the north. I'm sure he tried to go with Ned, but he has to be the Stark left in Winterfell." She glances over at him, "it's some old family tradition I suppose. Winterfell was built by Starks, held by Starks, and thus must always have a Stark within its walls."

"Is that something specific for your family? Or is all the north so concerned with others holding their keeps?"

"Specific I think," she smiles before letting any further words that she held at the tip of her tongue fall away. "There are moments where I wish I was the one left in Winterfell. But then I think of how worried I'd be over my brothers both being at war." Her smile falls and her lips press into a small line, "another part of me wishes that I could leave the city, not to go North necessarily. But to look for Lyanna, part of me thinking this could all end if Lyanna and Rhaegar came back."

"That wouldn't solve everything." Jaime replies plainly. "Robert Baratheon would still be angry for the Prince stealing your sister away, your father and brother would still be dead, your other brother still a traitor to the crown." He spoke realistically, an action that usually only leads to more sadness in the Stark girl, but she only nodded with understanding, no sadder than she'd been when he'd come across her in the Godswood.

"And I'd still be a hostage, even if Lyanna and Rhaegar returned they couldn't just send me home." She speaks it rather straight, as though this were all thoughts that had passed her plenty of times before. "But I'd know she's okay." She says the words worriedly, "I'd know where she was."

A dark look fell over her, one that appeared like worry and guilt mixed within her eyes. Jaime couldn't help but ask. "You were traveling with her when she disappeared, correct?"

Her eyes fall to her hands, and she nods. "I keep thinking that there must have been something I could have done." She speaks the words barely over a whisper. "I… I'd woken that evening; it wasn't the first time she'd snuck out from her bed in the middle of the night."

"She snuck away?" Jaime questioned. He kept his own voice low.

"She ran away, I think." Her eyes, grey and like the reflection of a storm on ice, flick over to him. "I haven't voiced this before. I… I knew Rhaegar was nearby. We'd been back at Harrenhal, in the Godswood when we first ran into him. Lyanna asked me to cover for her for dinner." Jaime listened. A part of him, since the news of Lyanna and Rhaegar had reached court, had found trouble with the idea that the Prince would simply steal away a girl. Though another part of him had always reminded him that the Prince had always been reserved, mysterious even when it came to the ideas in his head. "She didn't get back from the Godswood until late in the night, and when she had she was excited. Grinning more than I'd seen her in weeks and quick to tell me as much as she dared to. She told me she wished she could marry him not Robert. I thought it was just her way of daydreaming a world where she could choose her marriage. I didn't expect her to act upon it"

"She ran off with the prince." Jaime clarifies, his voice low as he becomes re-aware of Darry stood some ways off of them. Not to mention anyone else who could be sneaking about, looking for whispers to feed the Spider Varys. There was plenty talk around the Prince and Lyanna, some believed that she was stolen, others had differing views. But Jaime knew it would be best if it wasn't known either way, at least not yet.

"I don't know…" Her voice is strained, and her hand jumps up quickly to wipe a tear off before it can truly fall. "When she'd left that night, I called to her and she told me not to worry after her. I figured that meant she was just going off to see him. Not run away…"

"Hey," Jaime says quickly as she starts to tear up further, more tears falling and her frame shrinking as she curls upon herself. "From what you told me your sister would do as she liked, it is of no fault of yours if she ran off."

"I should've stopped her." Tears fall gently down her cheeks as she speaks, "or I should have told Brandon, maybe if he'd known that he wouldn't have stormed down here and then… then he wouldn't be dead. Then father wouldn't be dead."

Jaime reaches to her. A part of him wants to hold her fully, but he is still aware of the possibility of eyes upon them so he settles with grabbing her hands where they worry upon her lap and his other hand moving to turn her face to him. "There is no point in what you should or shouldn't have done." He speaks firmly. His eyes locked with hers, neither daring to blink. "It won't do anything but cause you grief."

"I already have grief," she says the words so gently they are barely audible.

"Then you don't need any more upon you," he tells her, his green eyes searching her grey for understanding. "Especially none caused by your own thoughts."

"I…" she starts but he shakes his head.

"My brother," he starts, his hand still on hers and their eyes still locked. "I'm sure your aware, is a dwarf. My father loathes him, and my sister easily follows in his steps." He didn't know where he was going, he was just trying to do something to keep her from spiraling further into her grief. "For a long time I've watched him let that hurt him, to the point that he followed in their own hatred. He still hates himself at times, I think. But I told him once what I'm telling you now. You have no control over what hurts you except for what you cause yourself." His hand still lingers on her chin, and he holds it tighter as he says, "So don't bloody hurt yourself." Then he lets his hand drop and her eyes break from his to follow it. After a moment of her staring at their hands he speaks again, "Alright?"

"Okay…" she replies, her eyes shutting and her breathing the only sound in the whole Godswood he can hear.

Alys

Only a fortnight passed after the departure of Jon Connington and his men when news started to arrive in Kings Landing about the battle at Stoney Sept. It trickled in throughout the course of a day and Alys listened to every bit of it she could for news of her brother.

She was sat with the Tyrell girls eating sweets and listening to a bard play at the harp when one of Aleries guards came with the most news of the events. Alys had seen the man about the place, he was here as a guard to Alerie but wandered the keep in search of gossip, secrets, and news more so than he ever spent his time standing guard for the Tyrells. Alys listened closely as the man told Alerie how the kings hand had fared against the rebels.

"The Baratheon forces scattered a week before his arrival at the sept." Alys had heard that already, from Jaime. During a game of chess the other day he'd told her that before Connington had taken over the chase of Robert from the Tyrells the Baratheon and Stormlander forces scattered to make the chase harder. But Robert was the goal for Connington, so he'd chased him down to the small town around a small sept. "Robert Baratheon hid amongst the folk there, none of them giving up his location to the hand or his men. They still hadn't found him when the Stark and Tully forces arrived."

Alys keeps her face as neutral as she can while she listens to the man. But she feels relief at knowing her brothers' allies have grown. "House Tully declared finally?" Mina asks, looking up from a letter she'd been reading from her husband.

"Yes, my Lady. For the rebels."

"Shame," Alys heard one of the other girls whisper. No it is not; she thinks to herself, a small smile playing at her lips that she pushes away with a sip of wine.

"Go on," Alerie motions. "From what I've heard so far the battle was lost."

"Yes, my lady." The guard says, Alys notices his eyes flick to her but she is careful with her expression and instead reaches forward for another small cake to nibble at. "The townsfolk rallied for the rebels, and rung the bells to tell their people to hide away. And our lord Hand was unsuccessful at holding off the rebel forces, he had to call retreat after a while."

"Casualties?" Alerie asks, and now Alys feels her eyes flicker over to her. She didn't know if it was because she too was keeping a close eye on her reactions or if it was because she'd asked for her specifically. Alerie and her good-sister didn't have men at stake in this battle, with the lords of the reach still in the Stormlands and Lord Mace Tyrell beginning his siege on Storms End.

Alerie had been kind to Alys for weeks, caring after her as much as she did the other ladies often around her. But Alys had also grown more aware of the eyes upon her the last few weeks. Perhaps it was simply because she was in a more visible position of late, leaving her room and joining the daily going-ons of court in the Red Keep. Aleah had even warned her, a week back to be careful. That Alerie may be friendly, and may genuinely kind to her; but she was still one of the Queens ladies, and thus was the queens' eyes and ears in the court.

"A few, but far more weighted to the royalists." The guard continued and Alys stood to fetch more wine, but still listening closely as she can. "It's said that the hand was injured, but only slightly, by Robert himself after he'd joined the fighting. Hoster Tully was also injured in the fighting. And Jon Arryn's heir was killed."

"That was his last Arryn heir correct?" Alerie inquires.

"I believe so, yes." The guard says. "Those were the only significant casualties I'd heard."

Alerie nods, and Alys keeps her face neutral as she walks back with her wine. Looking out over water she schools face while all the while she wants to smile at the news. The rebels had won, her brother was safe and unharmed if the lack of his name in the guards casualties meant anything. And she sipped at her wine and listened as Mina brought up some other news she'd heard earlier in the day about Elia Martell being summoned from Dragonstone by the king.

Walking back to the Maiden Vault was second nature to her by now. She hardly had to think of where her feet were leading her, knowing she'd wind her way there eventually. So instead she surveyed around her. She loved the gardens, as much as she was fond of the Godswood. But unlike the Godswood there was no looming feeling of fear or prayer. The gardens were a place where her worries and anxiousness could be forgotten. The gardens were just an area with sweetness in the air and a sea breeze if you walked at the right hour in the right spot. They were better tended than the Godswood, with more variety to its flora and thus more to look at as she made her way through the paths.

She was halfway back to the Maiden Vault when Aleah came walking down a side path. "Alys," she said, a small surprise to her voice that she covers quick with pleasure to see her. "Enjoying the gardens?"

"Yes, though I was on my way back." She continues, with Aleah now in step with her through the winding paths. "And you? I'd heard you were busy this morning with tasks for the queen."

"I was," Aleah says. She talks about little tasks she'd been sent to run with Alys as they walk. A short way along Alys notices a man she'd seen a few times before walking the paths towards them. He is a plump and bald man with long robes that she'd heard referred to more times than she'd seen him. And most of what she'd heard had been warnings to be careful of him.

But the man, often referred to as the Spider, nods at them as they near. A smile upon his face that seems entirely welcoming, to an almost uncomfortable degree. "Lady Alys, Lady Aleah." He greets them, a smell of lavender seemingly accompanying him as he grows closer.

"Lord Varys," Aleah responds with Alys. The two don't stop, and neither does the Master of Whispers. But Alys does notice her handmaid's eyes linger with the eunuchs, a seemingly secret word spoken between them. And once they've passed the man and some distance gained Alys asks, "have you interacted much with Lord Varys."

"He's not really a Lord," Aleah replies, not answering the question and looking off through the flowers, her face away from Alys's view. "Only little moments, if the queen asks it of me." Alys nods and looks back over her shoulder, but can't spot the man despite the path being long and unwinding behind them. "Do be careful though, Alys." Aleah's eyes fall back over to her, "he isn't the master of whispers because he has a guard who scouts out gossip like Alerie." Her voice is serious, a thing that Alys has learned to take with caution and attentive ears. "His eyes and ears are everywhere, not just the Red Keep or the Capital or even Westeros."

"I've heard," Jaime had mentioned it once, the Spiders 'little birds' were what he'd called them. "I don't have any secrets to spill… not really."

"Sometimes you aren't even aware of what is information is useful to a Spider like Varys." Aleah warns, the two walking in silence for a beat longer before she sighs and laces her arm with Alys. All seriousness of the moment before lost and instead she smiles "how about some chess when we return to the room. I'm free from the queen the rest of the day and left only to you."

"I'd be happy to…" Alys returns the smile, but feels hers falls short to Aleahs. She's brought back to a few weeks back in her head, soft words spoken with Jaime in the Godswood. He'd kept them quiet, and she could recall his eyes searching about them both as they spoke. What information is useful, she wonders, perhaps in a place like this all information is.

"Your brother is marrying the eldest Tully girl," Aleah informs her after they've sat at the little table with Alys's chess board. "Part of the deal made between the Rebels and House Tully, for him to honor the engagement made before this all started."

Alys nods though she frowns down at the pieces before her. "I figured as much would happen… I can't start to imagine the way that must feel to Ned." She couldn't really imagine how any of it must feel to Ned. "For one he's never met her. And then he's marrying someone who if all of this hadn't happened would already be his good-sister."

"Did you know her?" Aleah asks, moving the first piece.

"I did, not terribly well." Alys says, "but Lyanna and I stayed at Riverrun for near a month with Brandon. He was there to meet and get to know his wife to be, and we were there to see the south and because we were going to Harrenhal soon." She remembers Riverrun, fondly. She'd liked the smaller castle, the rivers around it were a gentle sound that she easily laid beside with Lyanna and she had liked seeing her eldest brother courting a girl he'd actually be married to. He'd grown fond of her in the few months he'd been there, Alys had been able to tell as much. The thought now made her worry again for Ned. As well as for Catelyn Tully, who she recalled also had been growing steadily fonder of her betrothed before they'd left for Harrenhal. She can't imagine the months following Harrenhal had done anything but strengthen the growing affection each had earned for the other. "She's kind." Was all Alys managed, her mind far too distracted by new worries for her brother, worries that had not a thing to do with his health and safety but entirely with his chance for happiness.

Aleah talks some more, but Alys finds it hard to put much interest into conversation, or into the game of chess before them. They're only half-way through when Aleah sighs and puts the piece she was about to move back and stands. "Have you any letters?"

"What?" Alys glances up, distracted by a memory of Ned and Ashara Dayne dancing at Harrenhal. Her brother had been smitten there, and she had mentioned it to their father in a letter after they'd left. All in hopes that her father would arrange a marriage there, all in hopes of helping her brother find some happiness and love.

"Letters? You said you'd written to your brothers."

"I burn them after," Alys says, watching as Aleah walks to the small writing desk in the corner of the room.

"Would you like to write to them," Aleah glances over her shoulder to Alys, brows raised and Alys wonders a second if this was a test by the queen that her handmaid was tasked to put her to. "To Benjen, or I suppose you could write to Ned as well if you wish. My sister can try to send it along to either Riverrun or Winterfell."

"I…" Alys stays planted in her seat, and looks wide-eyed at Aleah for some sign of the truth. "I shouldn't, you said…"

"I didn't actually say anything about it," she was pulling out paper and a quill with ink.

"You didn't have to," Alys stands, slowly and hesitantly and not moving an inch closer. "The way you looked and sounded when I'd asked was warning enough."

"Well," Aleah states, "there's no harm if we are careful. Of course, I'll read and approve what you write. Can't have you writing anything that could be construed as treason if the letter is found, and I have a better eye for that than you."

"I don't know…" Alys steps slowly forward, watching closely as Aleah arranges the desk. "Why did you change your mind?"

"Alys," the handmaid's eyes flick up from the papers to her. "Because I worry that if you don't let them know you'll alright you'll end up spiraling yourself into a hole of worry."

"But if it's found out…"

"I'm careful," Aleah's eyes flash with confidence and she holds out the quill, "let me worry about the letters and how they get where they need. You just write."

Taking the quill gently in hand she finally sits at the desk, staring down at the parchment and at a sudden loss for words to her brothers.

Aleah stands over her only a second before moving back towards the chess board, she sits and fiddles with the pieces while Alys stares at the blank paper and thinks. She writes, slowly and delicately Benjen at the top of the paper. She's slow in her writing, methodical in what words she puts and slowly the page fills. She doesn't write much about the King or Queen, doesn't really write anything about either. She writes about her safety in the capital. She writes about how she spends most her days, who she spends her days with. She writes, several times, that she is safe and well. She hopes the words hold the meaning, that her brother doesn't try to see deeper in the letters that are so precise in order to keep them from looking shaky. She writes to Benjen about her life here, about her safety, and her worries over his own.

When she finishes she sets it aside to let the ink dry. She pulls the second piece of parchment that Aleah had laid out and writes a new letter, the top addressed with Ned and her hand writing slower as she has to try harder to keep her nerves from reading across the letters. She doesn't write as much about Kings Landing here, only a short piece on her safety and wellness. The rest of the letter focuses on him, expressing her worries and assurances regarding his new position as Lord Stark. She writes about Catelyn, telling him what she can to get across that he is allowed to feel worried about the match. Worried about his new position, and his new engagement, and his new life path.

She hopes he takes her words to heart, she hopes he hears her voice through the black ink and she hopes it comforts him as much as she wants it to