Within the confines of her own tent, Elyse eased into the copper bath, trying to wash away her temper. Cloves and orange peels dominated the tent, a thick mist settling over the furniture and rugs. Simmering in her bath, she only turned her head at the sound of the tent flapping. Few would have entered without announcing themselves, so she wasn't surprised to see Olenna approaching her, pensive and sharp. A woman moving into her mid years, Olenna was still quite handsome, the marks of her previous beauty still strong. Without a word, the Tyrell sat down in a nearby chair, scrutinizing the dress that had been laid out on the bed.
Finally, after a few minutes of abysmal silence, Olenna decided to reveal what she was thinking. "I hear you are to dine with the prince and princess tomorrow evening."
Of course Olenna would have ears everywhere, especially amongst such a large crowd. Sitting up in the bath, Elyse moved her wet hair away from her face as not to look like a drowned rat. "Yes, upon seeing my, Prince Rhaegar was keen to become acquainted."
"Reacquainted," Olenna snorted indignantly. "Perhaps see how many more ideas you've in your head for bettering the city his father peevishly neglects," she paused, considering the past. "Or for other reasons."
"He met me with Eddard, as you probably know. Any hopes he might have are ill founded, nor am I interested," Elyse said coldly, wrapping her fingers around her arms. Despite the heat of the water, a chill swept into her bones, the memory of a fleeting, unwelcome romance in King's Landing making her stomach twist.
"If you didn't have that damned honor of yours, you might be the princess married to Rhaegar," Olenna pointed out shrewdly.
"It's not honor, it's principle. I was betrothed to your son."
"Something I would have gladly waved away had you mentioned that Rhaegar was interested in you. Dorne didn't even have their hand on the table yet and given your alliances with Highgarden and being the daughter of Jon Arryn, you would have been a smart match."
"I didn't want it!" Elyse snapped, furious eyes burning at the older woman. "I would not trade being queen for my own happiness."
"And that's why you're a fool. Ah, you're still young and think love exists. Tell me, how was the boring, young Eddard Stark?"
"Lovely," she returned, just as haughty as Olenna. "I thought he was a kind, courteous man. There's nothing markedly special about him, I will admit this, but I also do not feel uncomfortable around him."
"And you're handing him the Vale on a silver platter," Olenna drolled, unbothered by Elyse's attitude.
"He seems earnest, maybe even foolish, but I can work with that. You weren't able to change your husband, but Eddard seems intelligent enough to learn and I'd prefer a partnership."
"My ability to change your fate is gone. You'd think after all these years, you'd understand where you stand as a woman, but you've always been stubborn."
"I wonder where I got that quality from."
"Your father and me, no doubt," Olenna retorted thinly. "Now you'll get to return home and live out your lives in mild luxury, bored out of your mind."
"There is plenty in the Vale to occupy me, including the barbarians in the mountains," Elyse argued, picking up the sponge and scrubbing at her skin to get rid of the riding grim from her journey. "And as you know, I've never cared too much for extreme luxury."
"But enough luxury. Do you think that the Starks have a copper tub and servants drawing them up hot water for a bath?" Olenna arched a brow at her. "You'll need to cultivate the Vale more if you wish to travel the way you are now."
"I don't need a bath when I travel. Additionally, there are bath houses here in Harrenhal that I could have used-"
"But you preferred the luxury of your own tent in privacy. It seems you think that the Northerners are much kinder than we are. They are different, albeit stubborn and coarse, but they judge a woman acting like a man all the same. Your fate changes little now that you are in the hands of the Starks."
Elyse did not respond to Olenna's badgering, knowing that the woman was trying to rile her up. Their relationship often revolved around heated conversations, if not fully blown out arguments. She was willful and Olenna had always recognized this. However, the Queen of Thorns was also brutally blunt and tried to keep Elyse tethered to reality.
Olenna stood up from her seat and glided slowly toward Elyse in the bath, her verdant, shrewd eyes settling on the young lady. She was even more petite than Elyse, barely on the cusp of 5 feet. Standing over the bath, she gave the young woman a look that could have curdled blood.
"Should have never let you pick up that bow," Olenna muttered irritably, the darkness on her countenance vanishing. "I wouldn't be so invested in you if my own children were half as clever as you are stubborn. You may call yourself an Arryn, but you were raised a Tyrell. I hope you'll remember this when you inherit the Vale."
"I would not so easily forget those who raised me," Elyse reminded her, finishing up the bathing as she lathered more soap. Stepping out of her bath, she seized the neighboring drying cloth, even the small brazier in the room not warming the tent enough. Her skin hissed in the cold of the evening. "I swear, winter is still here, it gets so frigid at night."
Olenna snorted, not paying much heed to the naked girl as she slipped on her chemise and underclothes. She sat upon a foot rest, Olenna picking up a brush and pulling much of the water from Elyse's curls. "Tonight, you will be the most beautiful lady in attendance, the envy of the court as always. Only now those that do not visit the south often will bear witness. Display your prowess, I want you to wear the shadowskin cloak tonight."
"I thought we were going to wait," Elyse mused, glancing in the direction of where the cloak had been hung.
"Tonight," Olenna decided. "It will compliment your dress and set a statement... I have heard the prince intends on singing at the welcoming feast this evening."
Elyse groaned. "Then we'll witness which ladies have their wits about them."
"Few, undoubtedly," Olenna grimaced.
The tent flap fluttered again, Janna Tyrell entering the tent. She was a lovely girl with rolling chestnut curls and warm doe brown eyes. However, she possessed none of Olenna's tact, her eyes settling on the two.
"How did today fare? I heard you spent the majority of it with the Starks," Janna began fussing excitedly, claiming the other plush chair, leaning forward eagerly. "You saw Brandon Stark too?"
"Yes, I met all of the Starks today, including Brandon Stark," Elyse answered patiently.
"A shame you're not marrying him. I hear he's the most handsome Stark," Janna sighed wistfully, her daydreams filled with the brooding, fiery tempered northman.
"I think that Eddard Stark is handsome," Elyse argued, which was true. Perhaps he was not handsome in the same way that Robert Baratheon or Rhaegar Targaryen was, but she enjoyed looking at his face nonetheless. His hair had been a bit messy, falling nearly to his shoulders, grey eyes that were light against his features, a face that appeared he'd forgotten to shave in his haste to meet with her. The calm expressions on his face attributed to why she might have also found him handsome. There was something soothing about his demeanor, she didn't feel the need to posture as much. Olenna would have reprimanded her had she known how honest Elyse had been during the course of the day.
She felt she owed Eddard that. A warning on how terrible she could be, though he hadn't completely believed her.
"Perhaps, but comparatively to many of the other lords here?" Janna pressed, as if rubbing in that Eddard was only subpar in relative handsomeness.
"Appearances aren't everything," Elyse snipped.
"Right, look at Elyse, she's the most becoming lady in Westeros and is settling for a 2nd son," Olenna broke in, openly protesting her disdain for the arrangement.
Elyse ignored Olenna, keenly aware that the older woman's bitterness was in the fact that Olenna had cultivated her carefully, preening her to take an important position. Heading the Vale was important, but Olenna had hoped for bigger strides and to possibly put a Tyrell constituent on the throne. Not growing up with a mother, Olenna was the closest thing Elyse would ever have to a matronly figure. As much as they snapped at each other, Elyse loved Olenna as if they were bound by blood. Often, she wondered if Olenna only had interest in her because of the alliances Elyse could bring to the Tyrells, but she realized that Olenna was more clever than that. Having raised Elyse in her likeness, she would know that eventually Elyse would suspect her manipulation. She had contemplated it often, wondering if Olenna truly cared for her, or if Elyse was just a piece on the chess board.
But it was moments like this, away from the prying eyes of the court, that Olenna consistently put effort into Elyse and heckled her like a mother hen. If she were truly a lost cause to be hidden away in the mountains, Olenna wouldn't bother... would she?
Upon finishing wringing out Elyse's hair, it was twisted and pinned away so that she could step into her gown. Janna gave her adopted sister a wistful look, not out of envy, but a sigh of admiration. Even if Elyse had been unkind toward Mace in their childhood, she had been unable to scrutinize Janna and Mina. Janna, being the youngest, had latched on to Elyse the moment she had arrived, barely a toddler adjunct to Elyse's 5 year old hip. Tyrells prided themselves on having ladies in wait, which Elyse had never been fond of. While she could manipulate relationships and gain doleful followers, wooed by a false demeanor, she'd never liked them helping her prepare herself. Aside from Olenna, Janna had been the only other person she'd let help her and it was because Janna had volunteered.
They used to braid each other's hair. Elyse had learned how to create intricate braids in Janna's soft chestnut hair. The little girl had promised that when she was good enough, she would help Elyse in the same manner. Mina had always thought that was beneath her and often competed with Elyse due to their closeness in age. Mina was better in needlepoint and religion, but her own vanity and arrogance often made her so pig headed that she wasn't malleable enough for Olenna to work with. Since returning from King's Landing a few years prior, Mina had been affronted by the success Elyse left behind during her mission.
Mina's own work had been in Oldtown, a project pitched by her in which she would try to help increase trade from the Arbor further north. An ambitious project, which would have done the Tyrells proud had she had much more planning. Due to how expensive Arbor wine was, Mina hadn't anticipated that the North wouldn't be interested in spending a good deal of their coin, at the beginning of winter, on wine. The merchant ships sent north encountered a bust and were forced to sail back through the tumultuous waters, where two ships were claimed by the sea. Even if Mina had the more ambitious project, her gamble had not paid off.
Instead, Elyse's engagement in her philanthropy project had become much of the talk around Highgarden, especially after Prince Rhaegar began investing his time in bettering the city for commoners. Elyse knew that Mina resented her for that, bringing the limelight away from the true daughter of the Tyrells and putting it onto the Arryn ward who was better at being a Tyrell. Aside from gaining alliances in King's Landing, Elyse had steadily been gaining traction as one of the most beautiful ladies in Westeros. Such a claim had been encouraged by Olenna and parroted by Mace, who had bragged about her comeliness, because it was the only thing he had found attractive about her when they were betrothed. Word had spread like wildfire until the entire southern part of Westeros was convinced of it.
Now, at the tourney, in which most of the Seven Kingdoms would be attending, Elyse had to hold this title. Of course Olenna would be affronted that all her hard work and time put into Elyse only resulted in the 2nd Stark son marrying her. Truthfully, Elyse was glad she didn't have someone scrutinizing her every move. She was also thankful that he wasn't from the southern kingdoms or he might have heard all the stories she'd begun telling him, embellished as it traveled, and had higher expectations from her. Any lord in the south that did not know her personally or heard the story from her lips would have a grander idea of her than was reality. It was part of the reason she hated entertaining them after the shadowcat encounter. So many thought she was just as wild as the barbarians in the Vale.
Sticking one foot into her dress, Janna helped keep Elyse steady as she climbed into the start of the tourney gown. The piece had to be striking and also needed to depict her alliance with the Starks, as she was now set to wed Eddard. The piece had been commissioned by Olenna's favorite tailor, Channer Ridman. In Elyse's opinion, the work he did was fantastic, but he very plainly had 'types' of bodies that he preferred to work with. Her height wasn't much of an issue, as many women in the Tyrell family were also petite, but it was the lack of a buxom frame that had Channer complaining about fitting her.
Elyse had never been bothered by being relatively lacking in the chest department, especially since some dresses could create the illusion that she had more than she did. She had heard other women complaining about how their backs hurt due to the added weight, which had helped the anxiety of being flat chested when she was younger. She knew it was due in part to her archery practice, the athleticism not making her as soft as other women. Some might even describe her frame as boyish, but she had been told that attractiveness was not only in appearance, but how you wielded it. Graceful movements, straight posture, and a confidently set jaw could override what she lacked. Still, there would always be critics, and those were the ones who picked out her shortcomings because they couldn't find other things to nitpick. They were jealous. And it was good to make others jealous, as it opened them up to their own insecurities and to act emotionally.
Mina had always been plain about her envy and she was weak because of it. Her vying for Olenna's attention only made the matron more vexed with her daughter's behavior. Why? Because Mina acted emotionally, rather than taking the time to think about her actions.
Elyse held the front of the dress up as Janna worked at the laces. She sucked in her breath, her ribs screaming as the built in corset was cinched. Since arriving back at her tent, she had made certain to drink a copious amount of water to stave off feeling faint. There would be dancing and Elyse expected that she would be on the floor the majority of the night, even if not with Eddard.
"Don't worry, I'm not lacing the bottom too tight," Janna muttered into her ear, breath tickling her.
It didn't matter, the dress was still more rigid and difficult to move in than Elyse preferred. However, she knew that for practicality she traded finesse and beauty, albeit the exchange was grudging. Janna pulled down her pinned hair and twisted the front curls away from her face, securing the long loose curls in a high ponytail that spiraled down to the small of Elyse's back. In her hand she had a silver comb with a falcon and moon. The moon was made of mother of pearl and the falcon of silver, a sapphire eye winking in the brazier's light. It was the only touch from her own house, a house that she barely knew.
The dress was made of molten silver, dark and burnished to reflect the Stark grey. A built in corset tightened around her narrow waist and pushed up her chest as much as it could manage, the sweetheart neckline displaying a face collar and her slender neck. The short sleeves were off the shoulder, baring the skin tantalizingly, petaling off from the center of the neckline, framing the top of the bodice. The skirt fell down naturally, padded slightly by a thick petticoat. The fabric was luxurious and thick, embroidered with creeping vines along the skirt, intertwining with silver blue roses. The bodice was the pinnacle of the design, intended to draw the eyes in with the romantic off the shoulder sleeves and the dyed silver leather that had been sewn in overlapping scales, intended to mimic scale armor. The scales were long and almost featherlike, marrying the softness of the flowers to the armor.
A dainty, teardrop sapphire was hung on a white gold chain around her neck, dancing just above her breasts, against her collar.
The piece was a statement and a clue hidden in plain sight. Olenna had been insistent in its purpose, wondering if anyone would be able to deduce the similarities later in the tourney or if they'd forget about it completely. She suspected the latter, convinced that most were too trivial to connect the dots.
The shadowskin cloak, given how large the cat was in comparison to Elyse, had been tailored carefully to create an elegant fur cloak. The cloak swept around her shoulders, connected by a polished silver chain and brushed the hem of her dress, cloaking her in inky black fur slashed by silver stripes. The silver of her bodice stood out against the darkness of the fur, her eyes hauntingly luminous against the monochrome theme of her attire.
Janna dismissed herself to finish preparing for the feast, but Olenna remained, scrutinizing the work on Elyse. "You are a warrior tonight. Let them not forget that you, a woman, fought the shadowcat and won. Let them not forget that you shall not be trifled with. Let them not forget that you are a Tyrell, despite the falcon in your hair. Let them not forget you," the woman dictated, her voice rapt and sharp like a blade, cutting through the silence in the tent. "Tonight is your true debut to the entire seven kingdoms, make them want you, make them wish to be you, make them eat out of your palm. You may be marrying a Stark, but you are not just the color of your husband."
"That's a bit ironic considering what colors I wear tonight," Elyse quipped, much to Olenna's dismay.
"And glib remarks are unlikely to earn any admirers," Olenna snipped back. "If you're going to make jests, at least be more eloquent about it."
Elyse rolled her eyes pedantically at Olenna, but when she gazed back at the middle aged woman, she saw a glint in her eyes. This would be the closest she'd get to Olenna crying, the shimmer in her shrewd eyes, pride that her work, however tedious, had surmounted to this. "You know I shall never forget my duty to House Tyrell," Elyse told her seriously.
"I know, you honorable sod."
Elyse settled down at her table while she waited for her escort to arrive. Olenna left her to prepare herself mentally. She didn't mind music when she danced to it, but the ballads were the longest and most arduous part of the night. She had to pretend as if the music moved her heart, but often failed to make herself cry. In other scenarios, Elyse could cry on command, but for ballads... she had become so tired of them that her tear ducts refused to be moved. Instead, she'd learned to make expressive eyebrows and looks at the singers, but upon learning that Rhaegar would likely sing, she knew it would be difficult to feign her impressions.
Once, she had thought she may care for him, but eventually realized that while Rhaegar was good, he was so hopelessly foolish that it turned her attraction against him. Attempts had been made to wizen Rhaegar, but they fell on hopelessly idyllic ears. Eddard Stark seemed to be an honorable fool, but at least he knew that the world could be cruel. Rhaegar was blind to this, just as he didn't comprehend an alliance with a female that did not consist of romance. Elyse had been trying to complete her mission to the best of her ability, her impassioned rant to the prince capturing his attention more than she had intended.
He has a wife now, with one child. I shouldn't be worrying about how he may act as much as I am, she rationalized, but still the feeling crept over her skin like a thousand spiders.
Someone cleared their throat outside of the tent, drawing her head up and out of thought. She hadn't done a great job as stilling her emotions before the feast, but stood up, smoothing her skirt.
"You may enter," she allowed, expecting Eddard Stark.
Instead, the crimson black doublet of the prince flickered against the tent's brazier light. Her heart dropped to her feet as she clasped her hands neatly in front of her, fingers tightening.
"Your grace... I wasn't expecting you," Elyse drawled carefully, keeping her voice even, if not a little stern.
"I apologize for surprising you like this, but..." Rhaegar paused, his violet eyes capturing the light of the flames, his jaw setting as he stared at her. "When I saw you, I knew I had to speak to you privately. Elyse..." he gave a sorrow filled sigh, his eyes desperate and miserable. "Ever since you've left King's Landing it feels like a piece of me left with you."
Elyse swallowed hard, making certain to keep her distance. Ned would be arriving at any moment and him catching the two of them together would be extremely unbecoming. Perhaps she could come up with an excuse as to why the prince had paid her a visit, something about old friends reminiscing or- "I'm sorry you feel that way. However, my escort shall be here soon and it will be ill for the both of us if you're noticed here," she informed him.
Rhaegar nodded slowly, his emotions clouding his better judgement as they often did. "I know, but... if I could change it-"
"We should not speak of what may have been or what may happen. My hand is promised to Eddard Stark. I shall be returning to the Vale and preside over my homeland. Please, do not make this more complicated than it needs to be," Elyse told him, clinging to her patience.
He approached her and she took a tentative step back out of reflex. Her heart hammered in her chest, her ears blotting out the sounds around her as she glued her feet to the ground. "You've only grown more beautiful. How is it that fate separated us by just a year? Had your engagement to Mace been broken off earlier, it would be you by my side."
"Please leave," Elyse begged, desperation creeping into her voice as she stared up at him.
"I promise I shall find a solution," Rhaegar continued, disillusioned, his longer fingers brushing her cheek. The unwarranted touch nearly made her flinch, her body screaming protest. She had frozen like this before, a deer before the hunter, unable to think or make words. She was not frozen by inexperience or love, but by fear. "A 2nd son is not deserving of you."
Finally, feeling came back to her, hair hissing into her lungs as she took an enormous step back. Why was it that she could throw her fury at others, but Prince Rhaegar managed to confound her? She didn't want to think about it, instead she closed her eyes and expelled the breath she had been holding. "I am marrying Eddard Stark, your grace. You are married to Princess Elia and have a beautiful child. I need no promise made, you do not owe me anything. Go to your wife's side, I am where I belong."
The wedding could not come soon enough. Rhaegar gave her an anguished look and nodded solemnly. "As High as Honor," he recited delicately. "You do as society dictates, but our love should not be bound by it. What we shared..."
"Was in the past and it has been years," Elyse had been hoping not to spur on this topic, especially due to the memories it dredged up. Pain, dejection, confusion... Was it her fault for not saying anything? Any woman in the Seven Kingdoms would have traded places with her. She was an idiot to regret what had happened. She should have married the prince... "Go, I shall not speak of this again," there was more force in her voice, the anger returning. She had felt it rise like a wave some months after, hating herself for being weak and hating the prince for taking advantage of a 15 year old girl. "Go!"
Prince Rhaegar knew he had overstayed his welcome and inclined his head toward her apologetically. As endearing as he seemed, he had still done what he had done. He saw no errors in what he had done, basking in sweet repudiation, thinking it had been mutual. He read the looks on her face as rage for their circumstances, but did not understand the rage was intended for him. He withdrew, silence enveloping the tent, only the pounding in her ears to keep her company.
Even if Elyse could not cry when hearing Rhaegar's singing, she could cry over him for a different reason. Hot, bitter tears burned in the corners of her ears, dripping down her face as she stood there, staring at the exit. She hated him. Loathed him more than anyone else in Westeros. His position in the Seven Kingdoms as the Crown Prince shielding him from the errors of his ways. He saw nothing wrong with what he had done, but it would haunt Elyse each time she encountered him and worst of all, she had to pretend it never happened. To the world, she was a maiden.
"Lady Elyse," Ned's voice came from the entrance.
"Uh... Just a moment," her voice cracked as she rushed around, trying to find a piece of cloth to blot the tears from her face. He seemed to have misheard her, entering the tent as she was opening her chest, fingers shaking from her overwhelmed emotions. Caught red handed, the tears began to leak out, much to her own frustration.
Eddard Stark froze at the entrance, gazing intently at her, his face open with his confusion. His countenance shifted and he reached into his cloak and into the breast of his doublet before approaching her. He offered a silver handkerchief. "I hope those tears are not because of me," he said, his voice low and concerned.
I don't deserve such kindness, Elyse thought, trying to choke back the tears as she took the cloth. She forced a smile, tasting the salt of her tears. "No. No, please don't think that," she pleaded, wiping her eyes and blotting her nose delicately.
"Then I presume it was Prince Rhaegar?"
The forced smile was gone and Elyse felt cold despite the warmth of her cloak. Eddard must have seen him exiting the tent. What excuse could she offer? The prince had been in her tent alone with her and now she was crying. What was Eddard going to believe? "Yes," she managed eventually, her voice barely more than a whisper.
"Are you in love with him?" Eddard asked.
Elyse barked a laugh, so cruel and frigid that Eddard's own eyes became icy. She pressed the cloth to her lips and contemplated. "No, I do not love him. He loves me... He fell in love with me during our time in King's Landing and I harbor some resentment for him. I became a bit overwhelmed on my own. I'm sorry I look like such a mess... My eyes are going to be all red and puffy for the feast-" a pitiful chuckle passed against the handkerchief, which she noticed was embroidered with a poorly made wolf.
"The tourney is but ten days, afterward the prince cannot bother you. He should not be bothering you, considering that he is married," Ned pointed out, his features drawn, if not slightly irritated by discovering what had happened.
"Royalty does as royalty wants," Elyse shrugged. "And the Dragons are quite particular about getting what they want."
"At what cost?" Eddard said. "At affronting the North and East? At affronting Dorne?" a frustrated sigh escaped his lips, hinting that Elyse had already had a profound effect on the Stark during their first day together. "You have my word as a Stark that you will not be bothered by the prince. I can have your tent moved to the Stark encampment and have guards posted-"
"That seems a bit inconvenient-" Elyse protested.
"If he is making you upset, it is not inconvenient. My father will agree. As we are betrothed, it is not unacceptable that you move your quarters amongst the Starks. If you'd prefer, I could see if Lyanna will share her tent with you this evening. When you are amongst us, the prince will have no ability to slip around unnoticed and he will have to offer an excuse for seeing you... Bloody hell, we've got dinner with the prince tomorrow evening too..."
Cursing sounded forlorn on Eddard's tongue, but it made her smile. "I can feign illness," she told him. "Heat stroke or sun poisoning. Depends on how I feel tomorrow."
Eddard nodded in agreement, finally seeing her for the first time. His attention had been rapt on her distress rather than her attire. "Take the time you need."
"I'm fine. I'll... have this cleaned for you," she held up the handkerchief. "Who made this for you?"
"Lyanna did... Could you tell by the wolf?" he grinned as she brought it between the both of them.
"I think it's charming. I'm also poor at needlepoint, so I doubt my own attempt would be much better," she sniffed, the change in subject helping to curb her emotions.
"Then you did not have a hand in the embroidery on your gown?"
"Heavens no!" she admitted, a smile broadening on her face.
"A shame, though I don't expect that you having sewn it would make a difference in how much it suits you. I am a fortunate man."
Elyse snorted in spite of herself, blotting her eyes once again to keep tears from leaking out again. Who would have thought that quiet Eddard Stark was tactful enough to set up a joke like that and compliment her at the same time? Her cheeks flushed and she poised a smile at him, an earnest one. "Not fortunate just yet. We're only betrothed."
"Hm."
"Hm?" Elyse pressed. "Hm, is all you have in response?"
Eddard just gazed at her.
"No argument, no disagreement, no disdain? Or perhaps the 'hm' was in disdain, I can't quite tell-" she speculated.
"You're right," he said finally. "I don't think I can marry a lady who isn't capable enough at needlepoint."
Elyse stared openly, flabbergasted by his solemn response, unable to tell if he was being serious. But as she openly contemplated this, Ned broke a smile and her heart swelled, a playful frown planting itself on her lips. "I thought you were serious for a moment!"
"No, not quite yet," Eddard admitted with a coy look. "But there's no need for you to be so cynical. I know of at least one person who will be jealous that I am attending the feast with Lady Arryn."
"Someone I'd rather not spend time thinking about," Elyse groaned. "I care naught of what he thinks. Remember that. I do not care. Be it now or when he becomes king, I do not care," she insisted sternly.
"I believe you," Eddard placated gently. "Until now, you have given me no reason to distrust you. Nor did you try and hide your encounter with the prince."
"How would I have even done that?" she asked him lamely. "You saw him exit my tent."
"I saw him leaving the Tyrell encampment. I did not see him leave your tent."
Elyse's jaw dropped, it took her a moment to realize how stupid she must have looked. Snapping it back up, she tried to appear as dignified as possible, but she had underestimated Eddard. Blinded by Olenna's talking down of the Northerners, she didn't think that Eddard would be clever enough to trick her into revealing more information.
"Well, well Lord Stark, you've quite surprised me and caught me off guard," she commended, regaining her composure. "Perhaps the betrothal shall result in a wedding."
"Empty words from a lady who broke off a betrothal after 15 years," Ned brushed aside. "But... I shall hold you up to that expectation."
A giggle bubbled from the back of her throat, a true laugh that hadn't graced Elyse in a while. She covered her mouth again from the outburst, but her expectations were subverted once again. In underestimating Ned, she had opened herself up to being rather impressed and she felt slightly terrible that she had thought him so stupid. Perhaps he was still foolish, but he seemed capable of good conversation if he were invested in it.
"I think I am well enough to attend the feast. I'd hate to show up too late," Elyse conceded, taking Eddard's arm. She drew up alongside him, unbothered by his proximity. In the past, she had been irritated and impatient with other men, finding that they tried too hard to impress her or gave backhanded compliments. There was always something slightly off putting, be it the man would drag on incessantly with accomplishments, posturing, claiming they were the best at fighting, or just the blathering that circled round to nowhere. Entertaining men such as that was exhausting. She had to plaster on a smile and pretend to be engaged, to be enjoying the horseshit that came out of their mouths, to pretend that she really cared...
But that conversation didn't exist here.
"Do you really think it's going to be that engaging?" Eddard inquired, arching a brow at her.
"No," she chuckled. "I'd much rather go riding or enjoy the weather. But alas, we aren't afforded the luxury..."
"Eventually," Eddard promised. "Not here, but once we get to Winterfell. I expect you'll want to see the Wolfswood."
"Expect? Just after a day and you're gleaning my wishes," she smiled, placing a hand on his arm. The movement was natural, unforced and comfortable. Maybe it was just her own yearning for companionship that wasn't one sided or superficial, but Elyse had experienced little discomfort thus far with Ned.
Honeymoon phase, time will tell how patient he can really be, Elyse reminded herself, trying to still her hopefulness. Yet, she couldn't help but smile at him, brushing aside the foul memories and upset she had been experiencing just moments before his arrival. A foundation, a rock to cling to in an ocean filled with sharks.
"You've been quite plain, unless you're not usually this blunt."
"There is a difference between being blunt and expressing one's desires candidly. You can do one and disguise the other," she pointed out.
They left the tent, others milling around as they trailed toward Harrenhal. Impressive, imposing, and broken, the story the castle possessed within its stone walls made Elyse curious. She had read everything she could about the formidable fortress before the tourney, wondering why the malformed towers hadn't been deconstructed and rebuilt. Now, she understood why. Her idea of towers were not the goliath monoliths spiraling above her. They were ten times as wide as she had presumed and the stone had literally been melted by dragonfire. Twisted up toward the sky, there was no way to safely break down the misshapen stone, especially so high above the ground.
A chill traveled down her back, raking her spine with icy nails. The gargoyle sentinels glared down at them, their hideous faces curled between snarls and grimaces. Even the rising moon was blotted out by the spires, her lights cutting between the pillars and casting strong shadows against the grey gargoyles. Music wafted toward them, a queer sound in a castle that had seen such strife and remained untouched for so many years. Few areas had been fully prepared, but the Hall of the Hundred Hearths was basking in a warmth that radiated into the yard, outlandish against the stark gloominess the castle seethed.
Colorful blue and gold garlands twisted above, the dozens of hearth roaring. There were not quite a hundred, but the embellishment had the desired effect, as no one would count the innumerable amount of hearths with so many people collected within. Long tables had been arranged with centerpieces made of spring flowers including daffodils, tulips, and ruscus branches. Candles sat in their own trenchers, collecting wax which dripped down the long stems, and pooled away from the fragile arrangements.
The decadence for each table varied on which house was sitting there. Place settings became more ornate, jewel encrusted, and gilded the richer the family. Whether Lord Whent had provided these or simple, the noble house had brought these settings to flaunt, Elyse did not care to know.
Glad that Eddard knew where he was going, they lanced between the tables, leaving behind the familiar faces of the south until they were amongst darkly garbed attendants. Fur hemmed cloaks, muted boiled leather, the lack of exuberance or absurd displays of wealth... well, nearly. The merman of the Manderlys was emblazoned on teal doublets and they drank from silver chalices dotted with pearls. Lord Manderly was not considerably older than her or Eddard, but he was considerably wider. Blonde hair plastered to his head, thin and pale, his rotund cheeks flushed from his alcohol.
They continued, passing the winter sun of the Karstarks before denoting the Warden of the North's table. The Starks were not too different from when Elyse had met them earlier in the day. Perhaps their finery was a bit more polished, but the prior theme had never left. The doublets were muted, neutral colors, and fur rimmed the necks of their cloaks. Modest settings, nondescript and mostly made of wood, sat before them, Rickard Stark's the only one with a differing chalice of iron.
"Is that the cloak?" Lyanna asked excitedly, eyes pinned to the black fur around Elyse's shoulders.
"Yes, would you like to feel it?" Elyse responded, taking a seat beside Lyanna. Brandon had yet to arrive, leaving just the two youngest Starks and their father at the table.
"It's much more coarse than I thought it would be," Lyanna commented, the fur between her fingers.
"They're not giant, fluffy kittens," Elyse reminded her with a grin.
Lyanna snorted and dropped the cloak. "I've never seen one. They're pretty illusive, even in the North."
"Few have and I'd be happy not to lay eyes on another. This encounter was already close enough as it was." She gazed at Lyanna, whose pale eyes were luminous and bright against her fair, milky skin. She wore a gown of such pale blue it nearly looked grey, the embroidery fine and beautiful with winter roses and wolves chasing the hem. The girl was a lovely thing and Elyse knew that given a few more years, Lyanna would likely rival her own appearance. Somehow, she didn't mind.
Ned was down the table, leaning over his father, whispering into his ear, no doubt discussing the encounter earlier. Drawing her attention away from that, she took note of Brandon Stark approaching with a young lady on his arm. Her hair was a vivid auburn, burning in the candle light that bathed the hall. Of a similar age to Lyanna (maybe a year or two older), the girl had river blue, almond shaped eyes and elegant, high cheekbones. Her lips were a rich rosy pink, her complexion near as pale as Lyanna's. Donning the river colors of House Tully, Catelyn's hair appeared vividly red against the dark blue tiretaine, most of the details of the embroidery lost in the deep color of the gown.
Brandon bristled with pride, plainly happy to display the youthful beauty beside him. Maybe to him it was a competition between him and Ned, but Elyse was a handful of years older than Catelyn, so she could not see what the point was. However, this was not the first time she had experienced men trying to flaunt the beauty of the lady they had with them. Mace had done it often before they broke off their engagement.
"She's not much like us," Lyanna had leaned toward Elyse to whisper in her ear. Her breath tickled Elyse and smelled strongly of wine. "Too proper."
Elyse tried to stifle a laugh, not because it was funny that Catelyn was proper, but because Lyanna had already labeled Elyse as not 'too proper'. Yet, this small moment between her and the Stark girl caught Tully's attention, her eyes sharpening. Ah, she's gotten the wrong idea... Elyse realized immediately. It had only been a short while that she and Ned had been engaged, but the stepping of toes became blatant as Lyanna settled back in her seat and Brandon turned to introduce his betrothed.
"You know my sister, Lyanna, but beside her is Eddard betrothed, Lady Elyse Arryn," Brandon introduced, gesturing to the two females, gazing back at Catelyn.
Catelyn managed a pretty curtsy, raising her eyes, trying to disguise her suspicion. Albeit poorly as Elyse saw the dubiety, amused that the Tully was so poor at masking her emotions. The talent was more common in the southern women who needed to utilize their emotional tact to manipulate others and disguise their ambitions. "A pleasure to meet you, Lady Elyse. I am sorry that your prior betrothal crumbled considering how long you spent in Highgarden. You must be disappointed to move away."
Taken aback by Catelyn's brazen greeting, Elyse unfurled a guileless smile, portraying the picture of endearity. "Oh, yes, I am quite disappointed to leave behind the house I consider now as family, but with the end of winter drawing near, I think it brings forth a wind of change. I am excited to begin my newest chapter with the Starks. I have little doubt you also feel the same beside Lord Brandon."
Catelyn balked momentarily, disengaged by the unbothered smile that Elyse has polished at her.
Inexperienced, summer girl... Know when to pick your fights. Cling to your wounded pride and just sit down. You're not more clever than me, Elyse thought, waiting to see if Catelyn would make another jab, perhaps this time it would be on Elyse's age as she was a bit older than most ladies who married. The circumstances were not ideal, but Eddard wasn't younger than her. In fact, the lack of an age gap made their budding relationship more natural and relaxed.
"Of course, I only thought that perhaps you'd miss the companions and relationships you established in the Reach," Catelyn inclined, covering her blunder with a smile.
"I will, but I shall create new ones wherever I move," she retorted with a light shrug.
Catelyn smiled, but moved down the table with Brandon who was to be seated beside his father. The moment the other girl was out of earshot, Lyanna leaned back in, her luminous eyes bright with mirth and delight. "She tried to belittle you," she pointed out.
"She must have believed that we were talking about her as she approached. You did lean toward me," Elyse reminded her.
"Well, we were..."
"You were and I got dragged into your antics."
"And now look, she dislikes both of us. Honestly, she would have sooner or later once she discovers that you practice archery or love hunting or... She made fun of your age too," Lyanna pieced together, frowning. "I wish I could be getting married at your age. In just a couple of years I'm supposed to marry Ned's oaf of a friend."
"Ah, the tall one who is prone to giving unwarranted hugs?" she deduced.
Lyanna's jaw dropped. "He did not!" she whispered fiercely.
"He did," Elyse confirmed.
"I loathe the day I'm to marry him. He tells everyone how infatuated he is with me, but he sees only skin deep... You're lucky with Ned. He's a good man. Wish I could say the same of my betrothed."
"I don't think he seemed... bad," Elyse considered. "Earnest, yes, but a little oafish, I certainly agree. I doubt he's been told 'no' very often, but you can always temper a man. If he says he loves you, then he's likely willing to change for you."
Lyanna remained unconvinced as they pawed over the topic of Robert Baratheon. Their conversation carried deep into dinner, to the point that they'd ignored much of what was going on behind them. Lord Whent announced the start of the tourney feast, gesturing to his young daughter (whom he proclaimed the most beautiful) who the tourney was honoring. Many lords held tourneys in the honor of their children, but such an excessive display for a simple birthday brought many eyes down upon Lord Whent, including Elyse's. Someone else was funding this.
There had been rumors about the king's declining health, which Elyse had learned from Olenna who still had eyes in King's Landing. Aerys was beginning to be less predictable, making decisions based on his whim or sudden outbursts, rather than taking advice from advisors or weighing his options for a moment. If the king's decline was the reason a shadow host had put together this extravagant gathering, Rhaegar's promise to right things between them might have more substance. If he planned to unseat his father, was it possible he also planned on dumping Princess Elia along with Dorne?
Elyse's stomach twisted at the idea, hoping that she was married long before that. She had enough of the south and was eager to find solace and peace in the northern kingdoms.
"Would you honor me with a dance?" Ned had been listening politely, letting the two women bond. The music had only strengthened over the course of the feast and now that the meal had ended, dancing had begun. Hidden among the throng of Northerners, she had escaped much attention until now. She could hear Olenna's voice in the back of her head, reminding her that the moment her feet touched the floor, they were unlikely to leave it in a long while.
But when she looked at Ned, his open palm, and earnest request... She couldn't help but smile. Accepting his hand, he pulled her up from her seat and between the tables toward the floor.
Faceclaims
Catelyn Tully - Adele Siniak
Thanks for reading! I have manipulated the ages of multiple characters that the story arc revolves around. Eddard and Robert were originally 18 at the Tourney of Harrenhal (just for personal choices because I feel weird writing sexual scenes between teenagers). I have aged them up to 23. Elyse has been aged up to 21. Subsequently, to line up ages, Brandon is now 26 and Rhaegar 27. There might still be a few year discrepancies from CH 1 - 3, but I'll look back and fix them. Otherwise, the other characters retain their normal ages.
Additionally, I've altered the timeline slightly in that Brandon is engaged to Catelyn now; 281. Also, Baelish has yet to challenge Brandon to a duel just yet.