Jaime

Dodging back from the swinging metal he parried it quickly, the sound of blunted steel hitting each other ringing out in the sunlit training yard. Across him the gold cloak he was sparring with struck forward once more and Jaime was sidestepping away from it before his own sword swung upwards hitting the poor man on the side, sending him staggering and coughing. "Dead," Jaime remarks bored before moving away to allow the man to regain himself.

He already missed sparring with Barristan, or Darry. Really any of his kingsguard brothers. But Barristan and Darry had ridden out the other morning for the remainder of the kings army in the Riverlands. And Hightower was busy himself, preparing to ride out this afternoon on the kings orders to find Rhaegar. The lord commander seemed to have a general idea of where he should be going, he'd been spending the last day an a half with the spider looking over reports that could tell them where the missing prince had wandered off to for the last year.

Once Hightower left Jaime would be the lone Kingsguard in the city. It was that knowledge that fueled his hits against the gold cloak that he'd wrangled to spar with him. Swinging down with frustration at being stuck here. Granted, Lewyn Martell was due to arrive within the next few days with Elia and her children. But Jaime highly doubted Lewyn will leave guarding his niece unless strictly ordered to do so.

So Jaime had to savor this time away from the king as he swung again, even harder this time, at the poor gold cloak before him.

Jon Connington arrives in Kings Landing before the Princess Elia does, who is apparently taking her time coming from Dragonstone. Connington's moment before the king draws a crowd. If it weren't for the looming threat of another burning, Jaime could almost laugh about the fact that only a few weeks back the whole court had been applauding the Griffins rise to Hand and waving him off to end a war.

Now he was back. Still nursing a wound to his shoulder given by the rebel Robert. The army he left with scattered about south of the Riverlands, and a large failure hanging over him like a vat of wildfire. A failure that had only seemingly strengthened the rebels position, with the three heads of it reunited and apparently about to be celebrating some weddings in Riverrun if rumor was true.

Jaime stood to the side of the throne. Hightower had left Kings Landing the day before, he'd given Jaime a stern goodbye and an equally stern reminder to stay alert for threats to the king. Jaime didn't need a reminder for that, nor did he actually feel the need to stay too alert. The king was more alert to possible threats than an kingsguard could ever be.

He was only so alert to be sure no one took a too close step to the base of the dais, a hand resting on the hilt of his sword and eyes absently scanning the crowd that gathered. He was also alert enough to the king and Connington to prepare himself for the possibility of having to watch the soon-to-be former hand burn. He doesn't pay attention to what the king raves over, though he imagines its the same accusations of incompetency that were laced with suspicion of treason he'd been whispering over the last few times Jaime had stood guard for him.

His thoughts went instead to Cersei, whose letter had arrived to him this morning. She hadn't written on the rebellion much, at least not outwardly in any way that someone other than her twin would understand. She'd written their father as being busy in the Westerlands, but Jaime doubted that Lord Tywin was so busy that he couldn't ride out to stomp out a rebellion if he pleased. Father apparently seemed to still be bitter over Jaime's appointment, despite two years having passed since its start. She wrote other things, small little bits that made Jaime miss her further than he tended to already. He wished for a fleeting moment that things hadn't worked out so fucked. That father had stayed as Hand with Cersei in Kings Landing and Jaime could find his way to her rooms after finishing with the king for the day.

Instead he found his way to the Godswood with Alys after his shift ended, a retinue of gold cloaks taking the position outside the kings doors for the evening to grant Jaime rest before he returns for the next day. Jaime hadn't cared much over the exiling of the former hand and the rising of the new one. But, Alys seems just grateful that no fires were started in the process.

"Chelsted seems an okay man," She muses as she moves one of her chess pieces. The board set between them on the bench and no guards looming near them. It seems they trust she has no plans to run during the days as since Barristan and Darry's departure they've given up with assigning even a gold cloak to her save for the evenings.

"He's a bit spineless to my liking," Jaime states, moving a piece and noting the second after that it was a mistake by a twitch at the corner of her mouth. "All 'yes Aerys… as you wish your grace'. I don't believe he has a thought to himself."

Alys shakes her head at him, "well, not all men can be so brave, Ser." She glances to him with a smirk before moving her piece and remarking, "check mate."

"I told you I was horrid." He sits back from the board, leaning back on his arms and watching as she resets it. She looked lighter the last few days, a smile easily finding its place upon her. There was still some haunting grief behind her, but Jaime supposed that may never leave her after what she's seen. He knows the memories he holds of Kings Landing will likely never leave him either.

"You say that every time you lose," she laughs sweetly. "But you have gotten better."

"Well thank you, I haven't tried a bit." He sits back up as she finishes resetting the board.

"Just natural improvement then." She smiles and motions for him to make the first move.

"Or natural talent," he moves the piece and watches for her reaction, though she doesn't give any indication to whether it was good or bad he did notice her smiling at him. "Its just taking a bit to come through."

"Quite a bit," she retorts. "Thank you for playing with me this evening." She moves some hair from her face as she waits for him to move. Dark hair was ruffled by the bit of late evening wind and free of her usual braids to be cascaded down over one shoulder.

"Well it was either this or spar with another horrid excuse for a guard of the city watch."

"Are they really horrid?" She inquires. "I mean I'd hate to live in a city with guards that are horrid at the thing they should be good at."

"Perhaps not horrid," he relents with a sigh, "just horrid against me."

"You think yourself a better swordsman than everyone," she shakes her head at him, laughter playing at her words. "Well not everyone, you still have some humbleness left to you."

"Only a few exceptions."

"Yes I recall," she purses her lips while studying the board and Jaime watches her in the silence. Her eyes moved about the board, holding consideration that he was unsure about. "I haven't seen you fight." She states gently, finally moving a piece and looking back to him. "So I can't say how you'd fare against those I have seen."

"Well plenty ladies of the court venture slowly past the training yard, for reasons other than to judge the fighting skills of the men training." He moves his own piece with much less thought to it. "Have Aleah take you some day, perhaps you'll catch a glimpse then."

She shakes her head, "Aleah has been busy I think, with the queen or some other duty around the keep." She moves a piece and collects one of his. "Besides, I wouldn't want to seem like those other girls, ogling the men."

"No," he jokes with a smirk, "you're not a fan of gazing upon sweaty men? I thought that was a requirement to being a lady in Kings Landing. Is it a northern thing?"

"No," she laughs shaking her head. "But I just don't have the need to watch a man with that intention."

"The need? Does that mean you get your fill somewhere else?" He teases her with brow raised. His expression doesn't hold long as he starts to laugh when her eyes jump quickly to him. Her face beginning to turn red and flustered.

"Don't think so fully of yourself," she stammers quickly, "I didn't mean it that way and you know it."

"All I'm hearing is that you get your fill of handsome men from chess games with me," he collects a piece from her and smiles further. She moves her own piece forward, watching him with a small glare that held little to no true conviction to it.

"You are so unabashedly…"

He moves his own piece forward, taking another one of hers easily. "Handsome?" he interrupts with a flashy grin.

"Arrogant," she returns and he laughs again. She smirks a moment, peering at him through thoughtful eyes before smiling cheekily and pronouncing, "and bad at chess." She takes his king with triumphant grin.

Alys

The day princess Elia arrives to Kings Landing is sunny and bright. The whole keep is scattered about preparing for her arrival back. It was the first time the newborn prince Aegon would be seen at court. The baby born on Dragonstone had yet to leave until the summons to bring him here by Aerys. A small feast was being prepared for the Targaryen heirs arrival more than it was for the future queen to be.

Alys stayed away from it best she could. Keeping to herself out in the gardens with a book so she can better stay out of the way of the servants and guard. Jaime had been so busy with guarding the King while the other Kingsguard were away she'd hardly seen him in the last few days. Aleah had been missing from her day to day as well, though she imagined the handmaid was busy assisting the queen and her own handmaids in the small disruption that was about the court.

The welcoming was small. Significantly smaller than Alys would have supposed was due for the group that is arriving. But she had heard Alerie whisper over lunch the other day that the king wasn't a fan of his sons wife, the man apparently holding dislike for the Dornish. The queen was the one who'd arranged the welcoming feast for their arrival. Apparently more fond of her good-daughter and grandchildren then the king has shown in the past.

It was well known around the court that the reason the Princess of Dorne and her children were being brought to court was as leverage against Doran Martell. A way to keep him in the royalist fold and bring forth the Dornish armies that had been summoned since the battle of Stoney Sept.

Alys wondered after Elia Martell. She knew very little about the Dornish princess, having only seen her the one time at Harrenhal. Thinking back to those days, warm and nicer until the last of them. Elia had been at the grand feast, sat amongst some of the other Dornish. Alys even recalls seeing her dancing with her husband once in the night, before he played the song that brought Lya to tears. The Princess had smiled at her husband then, a softness that could be mistaken for love.

Was it love? Was it still love after all that had occurred?

Her face had been stone when Rhaegar had ridden past her to bestow the crown of winter roses upon Lyanna's lap. Alys had seen her shift in her seat as Rhaegar rode towards them, before her eyes had shifted to her sister and Rhaegar with nothing else but shock coursing through her.

Would she hate her? Because of her relation to Lyanna?

A large part of Alys hoped she wouldn't. A large part of Alys wanted the camaraderie of another woman stuck at court not of choice but as a hostage to keep an entire kingdom in line.

Though perhaps that would be a lot to ask of a princess.

Alys saw Elia in sparing moments the first few days of her settling into court. The feast had been small, and Alys had sat beside Alerie quietly throughout it. Elia had the three year old Rhaenys sat beside her, with a septa on the other side of the child to help with her meal. Aegon hadn't been brought to the dinner, but as Alys had started to leave after the feast had ended she'd seen the little prince be presented to his grandparents.

The first time she really truly meets the Princess of Dorne is out in the gardens. Sat in a spot she'd learned got the best breeze from the Blackwater with her book splayed open on her lap and occasionally peaking out to watch a ship pass through the harbor. A quiet wish in the back of her mind that she could be on it, sailing towards White Harbor.

Elia was walking about the garden, with Rhaenys dashing out ahead of her, a small black kitten moving faster before her. The kitten had bounded even further ahead, moving towards a bush near Alys. The small Rhaenys knelt before it searching through the foliage for the little thing.

"Can I help?" Alys inquired to the girl while setting her book aside on the bench and moving to stand beside the little princess. "My arms are a bit longer than yours, I might be able to reach him if he's far back there."

"Oh yes, Please!" Rhaenys nodded quickly, her eyes searching through the bushes presumably where the kitten could be found. The little princess was near identical to her mother, dark hair and dark tanned skin. But Alys felt she could see a bit of the queen in the girls eyes, not so much in color but in shape perhaps. Or were they her fathers eyes?

Kneeling down beside her, Alys looks through them herself until she spots two bright yellow-green eyes looking at her through the branches. She reaches carefully in, moving slow so not to startle the thing before she moves just quick enough to grab a bunch of fur and pull the kitten out to the pleased squeals of the princess.

"You found him!" she moves quickly, hugging Alys about the waist before taking the kitten into her hands and holding him close to her chest.

"May I ask his name?" Alys inquires gently. A soft smile on her face towards the girl who seemed utterly carefree save the worries over her kitten.

"Balerion." She states proudly and clearly to Alys.

"Like the dragon," Alys remarks to which Rhaenys nods wildly.

"She read about it a few weeks ago with her septa," a silvery voice says from behind the two of them. A smile forming wider than she'd already had, Rhaenys turns to see her mother walking towards the two of them. Alys follows her view and stands up to face them. "Not long before we learned we'd be coming here one of the cats on Dragonstone had kittens."

"She was quick to claim that one before we left," the kingsguard beside Elia says. Lewyn Martell, Alys identifies. He had been at Dragonstone with the princess and her children, and had traveled back to Kings Landing when they did.

"Princess Elia," Alys curtsied carefully as Elia stopped before them.

"Lady Alys… correct?" Elia smiles with a light to her eyes that leant to her kindness seeming a genuine sort where other ladies at Kings Landing always seemed like they were hiding some other meaning behind the eyes.

"Yes," Alys glances back at Rhaenys. "Its a very good name, princess." She tells the girl who still smiles proudly and holds the kitten closer, despite his slight struggling before finally settling into her arms.

"I apologize for not greeting you at the feast," Elia remarks, drawing Alys's attention back up from Rhaenys. "It was a bit distracting with Rhaella and the children."

"You were busy," Alys gives with a reassuring voice, "and I'm not anyone too important that it requires apology." She holds herself carefully, the same nervous worry over the solid connection they had of Lyanna sitting tightly in her chest. She wouldn't blame Elia's dislike, or distrust towards her. She hadn't a clue what the princess thought of the woman Rhaegar had run off with.

"Well, you were important enough to have garnered a seat at that table," Elia offers as she motions for them to sit together on the bench Alys had left. Before them Lewyn kneels before Rhaenys and the two play with Balerion between them, leading the kitten around in circles with a long leaf plucked from the bushes nearby.

"In ways that are of sour origin." Alys concedes looking at her hands before turning her eyes back to Elia.

"That's where we meet," Elia comforts with warmth. She seemed genuine, offering a tentative bridge between them and Alys felt the tightness in her chest loosen slightly.

"You are a princess and married to a future king, mother to two royal children." Alys laughs half-heartedly, "I am only the sister to a Stark, kept to control them when the war ends." If it ends in the Targaryen's favor that it. Though Alys kept those thoughts to herself, she wasn't sure what her brother and the rebels intended to do if they won. Would they put Elia's children to the throne?

Or end the line entirely and start anew with a different house.

"Still important," Elia states a hand moving to rest comfortingly on Alys's. "People so often push away the power of women like us, and yet Aerys can hold Dorne to its loyalty by having me here. Can perhaps control the north by marrying you to someone of their choosing." Elia moves her gaze to her daughter. "If we followed my family's customs my daughter would be heir to Rhaegar, not my son." She sighs and looks back to Alys, her eyes searching Alys in a way that left the northern girl feeling far too exposed. "But she can still hold power of her own, someday perhaps."

"She seems to have the spirit for it," Alys remarks while watching as Rhaenys pointed towards the water, ordering her great-uncle to lift her up so she can see out over the Blackwater. Elia smiles softer now, the warmth of a mother on her face if Alys was to identify it.

"I would like to see you again," Elia states, looking over to Alys, "I'm curious about the other bargaining piece here. But Rhaenys has lessons and Aegon will wake from his nap soon."

"Of course," Alys says standing with Elia, "I have nothing but time on my hands these days."

"I'll see you soon then, Alys."

If Alys were to say why she was feeling lighter over the last week she would point to two reasonings.

First would be the letters she sent out over two weeks back. She didn't know if Aleah even actually sent them, but she believed she did, she had to believe she did. She trusted Aleah, truly, and her heart knew that she wouldn't have tricked her. She hoped enough about the matter that it didn't matter. Even if they hadn't reached her brothers she felt relief at having let them go. A different sort than when she'd written letters only to burn them. Sending them somewhere had lightened her spirit, freeing it up in a way that her praying hadn't managed.

Perhaps because she felt more heard with the letters than she has in months with words whispered before an old oak tree.

The second reason would be Elia and Rhaenys. She'd seen the two frequently over the last week since meeting them in the gardens. Joining the pair for dinners most nights as of late, she and Elia would talk easily. Alys inquiring much about Dorne, and Elia much about the north. The two girls talked together about interests, and memories, and life. Alys told of her memories of dancing at Harrenhal with Elia's brother and asking him questions about his home through it all, Elia returned in kind, telling her own memories of the good days at Harrenhal, as well as about the last year on Dragonstone. Alys also played often with Rhaenys, enjoying the girl greatly. Usually whenever Elia felt ill for a few hours Alys would run about the keep with the little princess. Chasing through the halls with Balerion and even once playing down at the waters edge with Lewyn standing guard nearby.

She felt a strange sort of happiness here. Something that felt so out of place she wondered if she was dreaming.

Her dream is woken when a personal guard to Rhaella comes to retrieve her while she sits with the Tyrell girls for lunch one day. She walks quietly through the halls behind him, the same sort of dread that had risen when she'd first met the Dragon queen bubbling low in her stomach. Building slowly and surely until she entered the queens chambers and heard Rhaella call for her to enter.

The queens chambers were filled with light. The windows open to the outside letting in a breeze from the Blackwater that filled the air with a taste of the sea. The queen herself sat at a writing table, looking over letters with a handmaid stood nearby waiting to assist when called upon. The decor was all black, and silver, and red. Dragons appearing in ornate designs upon the wood of the table and chair, or small stitches on the silks of the bed.

Entering the dragon queens room was like entering the den of a something dangerous. At least that was how it felt to Alys. She felt nerves piling upon nerves over why the queen would summon her. The few interactions she'd had with the queen had always left her feeling on edge, as though she were one wrong word or step away from being thrown to the pyre.

But Alys moved to assure herself. The queen, while frightening to her, was not mad like the king. She was the solid stone of the Targaryen royalty in Kings Landing, utterly unmoved by the madness of her husband and the absence of her eldest. She managed the household of the Red Keep with ease and a deft hand. Besides, she was kind when she had reason to be. The moments she'd interacted with Alys, the queen had always been kind, if a little closed off and observant of the Stark. Alys knew the queen cared for her family. She had seen Rhaella's face light up at the feast when Aegon had been presented to the king and her. She had looked at her grandson with such love that Alys felt was of the most genuine sort. She was kind to Elia, and lavished the little Rhaenys with all the love and gifts due a princess of the crown.

Alys still felt her blood freeze as she stood before the queen and bowed. Watching with anxious waiting as the queen finished a sentence upon her letter before looking up to her and smiling.

Her eyes were bolder than the kings. Bright and violet and holding a look that said she saw all.

Perhaps she did.

It certainly felt like she did.

"My good-daughter has spoken kindly about your company," the queen remarks, her attention shifting back to sealing the letter with wax. "The Princess Rhaenys as well, she regards you as a friend."

"I'm glad," Alys says, her voice sounding like a mouse compared to the queen. "I've become fond of them both as well. Elia is so kind, and Rhaenys is such a sweet girl."

A smile passes the queens lips. She hands off the letter to the handmaid behind her, keeping quiet as she watches the girl move from the room and even for a few moments after the door has shut. "You may sit, Alys." She motions to the seat before the desk. "Would you like some wine?" Alys takes the glass Rhaella extends, but can only manage a small sip as she watches the queen drink her own.

"Thank you." Alys manages. She looks around the room once more, studying the intricate tapestries upon the walls. Images of house Targaryen's history were woven into them. "Those are beautiful." She says gently.

"They are," Rhaella smiles while following Alys's gaze to the wall. "Aegon's conquest with his sisters." She motions to the largest of the tapestries. "Woven to show his conquest over each of the kingdoms, save Dorne though. That is on another tapestry, somewhere else in the keep"

Alys nodded, her eyes falling upon the depiction of Torrhen Stark knelt before Aegon and his dragon. She wondered if it was simply the fact of familial ties or her own grief that made her see Brandon in the knelt mans figure. She looks away when the image of him knelt, chained by the neck with green fire illuminating his face takes over her mind.

"I am certain you are wondering why I summoned you here." Rhaella draws Alys from her mind and back to the room. A small bit of thankfulness to Alys at being pulled from her darkening thoughts, "I'm certain you've been missing your handmaid, Aleah, the last few weeks."

"I assumed she was busy helping elsewhere," Alys says, "besides I grew up without the help of a handmaid. I was able to manage the last few weeks on my own."

"Good," Rhaella smiled, but Alys noticed it didn't reach her eyes. No, her eyes were studying every movement Alys made carefully. It left her feeling exposed and nervous, her hand gripping the wine cup the smallest bit more. "She won't be returning to your service." Alys couldn't help the slip of surprise that came to her face. Her focus fell on the queen, what she was looking for in Alys's reaction. "I have a few questions for you though."

"Of course, your grace." Alys's voice is small again, tiny and helpless. Nerves pushing it down until it was the smallest thing in the room.

"Have you noticed her doing anything one might deem outside a handmaids duties? I understand you haven't much experience with them but does anything come to mind?" Alys looks away from the queen, her heart racing and her mind falling to two letters sent a few weeks back by Aleah.

"No, your grace." Her voice is full of her nerves, she doesn't believe she could hide it if she tried.

"Did you ever see her speaking with people she had no reason to speak with?"

"I don't know," Alys looks back, against her nerves, to the queen. Purple eyes watching with no sign of what thoughts race behind them. "I… can't think of anyone. I'm sorry." She thinks of a day in the gardens, Lord Varys passing them and her handmaid's eyes following the eunuch as he left.

She doesn't mention it. She doesn't know if she should or shouldn't mention anything or everything.

"Have you seen her with any letters, sealed with unmarked wax? Has she mentioned at any point to you support for the rebels?" Alys breathes carefully, fear that if she didn't her breath would quicken and she would lose herself.

"No," Alys shook her head, but her eyes stayed stuck in the grasp of the queen. Unable to remove them, entranced and imprisoned. "I saw her sending letters to her sister once." Alys admits, saying what she deems she can, what comes to her mind. "But she'd said they were for her father, and it was easier for her sister to get them to him from the reach."

"Has she expressed any support for rebels to you?" Rhaella asks again. She seemed terribly tall, despite the both of them being sat opposite each other. She loomed, in spirit if not in size, over Alys the way Aegon had loomed over Torrhen Stark's knelt form upon the tapestry.

"No," Alys says, "she was sympathetic for my losses. But I never heard her speak ill of the crown or in support of my… of the rebels."

Rhaella sighs, sending fright through Alys's spine. But she nods then, releasing it slightly, "very well. Thank you, Alys, I am certain you've told me all you knew."

"Of course, your grace." She willed her voice to not tremble, and was grateful when the queens eyes left her. "I…" she starts, her will leaving her until she forces it back. Be bold. She tells her soul, "what did she do? If I can ask, your grace?"

"Lord Varys had her reporting to him, as I'm sure you felt." Rhaella states, "keeping an eye on you and some others." Alys nods slightly as she sips her wine, hoping for some comfort. "But he discovered later she was working against the crown as well. Sending letters along to rebels, informing them of the kings state and affairs." Alys puts her glass down, her mind falling to letters sent along to declared rebels by Aleah. Letters sent for Alys's sake.

"Oh," is all Alys can say. Her throat is tight and she can't manage more wine. She can only think of Aleah.

Rhaella nods, her eyes falling back to Alys. Weighing down upon the Stark girl, a feeling of exposure all upon her. Does she know? Were those letters the ones that got Aleah caught? Is she waiting for a confession? Alys forces thought from her mind, and focuses entirely on the moment she is in.

"I'll have one of my guards escort you back to your rooms now," Rhaella says, calling in the guard that had brought Alys here. "Thank you, again, Lady Alys, for your time and honesty." Alys nods to the queen, bowing before her departure and then follows the guard mindlessly through the halls of Maegor's holdfast.

She forces herself to think of nothing as they walk. Knowing if she let even a simple thought through it would spiral and fall into an endless worry about Aleah. She forces silence, thinking of just silence as they walk through the halls and out to the walkways connecting the red keep all together.

They are passing through a walkway that outlooks the city when she spots a row of heads. She'd seen them in passing before. Heads displayed to look towards the city, a warning to all. She couldn't stop her own head turning to glance at them. Some were burnt remains from those whose fate was ended through Aerys. A small faint thought crosses her mind without meaning over whether one was the head of the poor serving boy killed at the tourney feast so long ago. The heads were all tarred to be preserved it seemed, even the burnt ones. Her eyes begin to look away when she recognizes a head. A face, slightly turned inwards, that hits Alys completely still and seizes her entire self.

Aleah, eyes open and dead, was barely recognizable by the tarring. But Alys had noted it, her mind had betrayed her and saw it. She looked away, the guard glancing back at her stopped figure. She forced herself forward. But the head loomed in her minds eye, the head of a friend stuck there.

Killed, dead.

The second the guard leaves her to her room she feels every thought she'd kept from herself fall down onto her. As though the roof of the maiden vault had been struck down by a quake and she was caught under the rubble. She stumbled, fell to her knees and a cry racked through her entire being.