The solar loaned to her in Riverrun was smaller than the one in Winterfell, but was by no means lesser than. A heavy stone desk sat in one corner with trouts carved up the legs and across the edges. A large window to the left of the desk provided a wide view of Tumblestone, along with the hills beyond. Tapestries decorated the walls, some of which Alysanne could not place. One tapestry Alysanne did recognize. It hung above a hearth, which appeared to have been out of use for years. The Battle of the Kingsroad, immortalized with delicate needlework. Kermit Tully with his sword through Borros Baratheon and the Lads stood proudly behind him. Hours upon hours spent to immortalize an act that took only seconds. Two chairs that were placed in front of the hearth had since been rearranged by Alysanne and her ladies. Instead of facing the hearth, they faced towards the window.

Alysanne settled on a cushioned bench in front of the window to wait for her ladies to arrive. She watched as the men below moved about the encampment and busied her hands with mending Bran's torn jerkin. War, she found, was quite boring. They would decide that night where to go next, but until then, Alys found herself at a loss for what to do. She was of no use in the training yard, and one could only inspect the food stores so many times. I will not have it said I laze around all day. Alysanne filled the empty hours with mending the clothes of her family. She'd collected torn breeches from Arya, a ripped jerkin from Bran, Robb's cloak that Grey Wind snagged while playing, and Ser Addam's well loved doublet.

A knock echoed through the solar and Alysanne rose and opened the door. Wylla entered and swept dramatically into a low curtsey. "Your grace," she greeted. Her tone as serious as her face. Eddara, Jorelle, and Beth followed suit, but did not hide their mirth as well.

Alysanne let out a heavy sigh."Please, stop doing that."

"Of course, your grace," Jorelle grinned wildly. "At once, my queen," Eddara chirped. Beth bit her lip, but her eyes betrayed her.

"I could have your heads for mocking me," Alysanne pouted.

Jorelle snorted. "You've threatened that every time and have yet to do so. Forgive our lack of fear, your grace."

Alysanne's lips twitched, a smile threatening to split her face until she studied the ladies present. She frowned. "Where are Jeyne and Arya?"

Beth claimed Alys' seat by the window for herself. "Arya's down at the yard with that odd man again," she said. The Braavosi. Syrio, Alysanne remembered. Arya pleaded with Robb to allow him to stay, with Bran and Jory Cassel's endorsement, he'd agreed.

"And Jeyne?"

Jorelle hoisted herself onto the desk. "Jeyne did not wish to join. Said she feels ill."

Alys' shoulders drooped. Each time she met with her ladies, she extended the invitation to Arya and Jeyne as well, and each time they either refused orfound some other reason to beg off. She knew Arya had no love for embroidery or sewing. She still joined us in Winterfell. Jeyne she thought for certain would have joined. Have I upset them?

Eddara placed herself at Beth's feet, who took to braiding her hair. Wylla sat in her usual chair facing the window. Alysanne retrieved her basket from beside the bench and sat in the chair next to her. She set back to mending Bran's jerkin, and Wylla plucked a piece of clothing from Alys' basket to work on herself.

Beth peered out the window and scrunched her nose. "You can't see the comet from here. My cousin Jory says it means war."

Wylla rolled her eyes. "Men think everything points to war."

Eddara snickered. "Perhaps the gods send it to mock your hair, Bethy," she teased. Beth retorted with a sharp tug of Eddara's hair. She squeaked and rubbed at the sore spot. Beth covered her mouth with her free hand in a poor attempt at hiding her laughter.

Alys glanced at the window herself and shifted in her seat. That blasted comet. It was all anyone in Riverrun seemed to speak about. It had appeared in the sky the previous night, a smear of red against black. Alysanne did her best to ignore that it'd appeared in one of her dreams just the night before. Perhaps I only remember my dream wrong.

Jory set to sharpening her knife, the sound a soothing constant. "Mother says it means blood and fire. A bad omen."

Wylla snorted. "And how would she know?"

Jory raised herself up in indignation and stopped sharpening her knife. "Mother always knows. She heard it from a wildling woman, once."

Sensing an argument brewing, Alysanne jumped in. Only the gods could stop them once they've started. "Since you're so sure of their being wrong, why don't you tell us what it means."

She stayed focused on her sewing. "None of the men can agree," Alys raised a brow, but Wylla continued. "The Greatjon swears by hide and tail that the gods sent it as an omen of vengeance. Tells everyone within earshot, that one does. Some rivermen just call it the red messenger, and others think it's red for House Tully," she stopped a moment to undo a misplaced stitch. "And apparently Lady Catelyn fears it represents the Lannisters, and Ser Brynden thinks it means blood."

Alysanne narrowed her eyes. "How do you know all of that?"

Wylla grinned triumphantly. "Men pay little mind at all to a woman in a plain dress. Especially if they think that woman is a servant or another camp follower."

Alys eyes widened. "Wylla, you have green hair. Perhaps the only woman with green hair in all the Riverlands. I highly doubt you go unnoticed"

Wylla refocused on the cloth in her hand. "I never said I went into the camps. Brown hair is quite common, Neddy was perfect for the job."

"Eddara?" Alys questioned.

The girl in question only grinned at her. "Few of the men know me, least of all the rivermen. They don't pay any mind to me, I've learned much."

Alysanne's heart seized. "You walked through the camps alone?" I highly doubt they paid her no mind. Eddara, with her delicate features, was far from homely. Alys knew what men did in war, when their blood was high after a battle. It wasn't much different from what they did when bored.

"We never said she went alone," Wylla shot back. Jorelle piped in with, "The men are used to my presence, she was never out of my sight."

Wylla continued. "Neddy collects clothes that need mending or helps to pass around food and provisions. Jory is never far behind. You know she'd never let harm come to Neddy. And Beth helps the women sew. Many of them are wives of the men, you know. Horrible gossips, the lot of them. Arya and Jeyne are in on it too, you know. They're my ears inside Riverrun."

Alysanne's mouth twitched. "You've roped Arya and Jeyne into this as well?"

Wylla's mouth curved into a teasing smile. "That isn't fair. Arya was all too willing, and Jeyne caught wind from Arya and approached me herself," Wylla's lips turned downward. "She's been so somber. I think perhaps she just likes to feel useful."

Alysanne's forehead creased. We've hardly been in Riverrun a week. "When have you had time for all of this?"

"I've been planning it since Moat Cailin," Wylla boasted. "There isn't much else to do on the roads. A few tests along the way, and here we are."

Beth, Neddy, and Jory in the camps. Arya and Jeyne in the castle. It's not an awful idea. Alysanne gave Wylla a once over, a vision in green before her with her hair and dark green dress. She's made no mention of her own role. "And what is it you do?"

Wylla straightened her back. "I wait here for their return, and decide which bits of gossip are worth your while and which are nonsense."

Alysanne chuckled and shook her head. Words from her grandfather itched at the back of her mind and danced on the tip of her tongue. He's had ears in the Red Keep from the start. Alys observed her friends. As much as she trusted Jorelle to watch after Eddara and Beth, three of her ladies wandering the camps remained far too dangerous. "I still don't wish for you to wander alone. Jory is not enough to protect all of you. Perhaps we find women already in the camp to bring us this information instead."

Wylla considered her words, but it was Beth who answered. "The women complain about a lack of thread and cloth. I know a few who may trade information for supplies or coin. Some of the- the women who-" Beth averted her eyes. "Whores," Jorelle supplied. Beth flushed. "Yes. They often struggle to find moon tea."

Wylla nodded slowly. "Aye, that may work."

Jorelle inspected the edge of her knife. "Right then. I'll go with Beth to speak with them later today."

Wylla and Jory and Neddy smiled proudly at her. Alys failed at biting back a grin and resumed mending Bran's jerkin. "Go on then. What bits of gossip are worth my time?"

There wasn't much worth her time, it would seem. There were only the typical mutterings surrounding her family, her father's family, the usual complaints regarding lords and who had what command, the impatience of the men who wanted to fight.

The late morning passed into the afternoon. Soon, her ladies disbanded to go about their own duties. Jorelle and Beth surely headed to the encampments to make arrangements with the women, while Wylla would certainly wait in her own rooms. Alysanne knew Eddara would seek out her brothers, and Beth her father. Alys made her own way down to the yard.

The yard bustled with noise. A man in the livery of House Blackwood sparred against a man in pink and blue, with Lord Edmure watching on. He caught sight of her, only giving her a curt nod in acknowledgement. She suspected Lord Edmure had not entirely forgiven her. Not that I need his forgiveness. He'd done her best to avoid her ever since their meeting in Robb's solar following their arrival. We owe him much for holding off my father. She did her best to avoid him. He trusted Robb more, she could tell. The meeting had started off well enough. He'd been excited to meet more of his mother's family, and Alysanne had wanted to meet the man who drove off her father. It was only his mother, Uncle Brynden, and Uncle Edmure in attendance, aside from herself and Robb.

Lord Edmure had preened under the praise and thanks given to him by Robb, but made a show of humility all the same. "I would have had an easier time of it, had the old man sent his men," he complained. "I could have routed the lot of them."

"But he didn't, and you managed all the same," Lady Catelyn said. Perhaps he could have, Alysanne thought. What a gift it would have been, to be presented with my father in chains upon our arrival. She ignored the part of her stomach that twisted at the thought.

Robb had waved off his protests. "Even with the men Jaime Lannister left behind, it was a great victory. Our arrival would have cost us many more lives."

Lord Edmure then flopped into his seat, put his feet on the table, and leaned back in his chair. "How did you get the old lout to allow you to pass? And pledge his men?"

Robb and Lady Catelyn both looked to her, and she could remember refusing to meet their eyes. Lady Catelyn had not been well pleased at Alysanne's handling of Lord Walder. She is not pleased with me much these days. Alys suspected it was because she had convinced Jon to remain in Winterfell. "I believe Alysanne convinced him," Lady Catelyn said.

Lord Edmure looked at her expectantly. She raised her chin. "Robb agreed to take on one of his grandsons as a squire, and two more still will foster in Winterfell." Lady Catelyn had cleared her throat. Alys cast her a sidelong glance. "And… House Tully will consider a betrothal agreement." She had not promised it for certain, no matter what Lady Catelyn and Robb said.

Lord Edmure scoffed. "I've considered it. The answer is no." Alysanne had not appreciated the way he so quickly tossed aside the idea. Not even Lady Catelyn's pleading seemed to sway him. "There are other options," he continued to insist. "Lord Blackwood has daughters, as does Lord Bracken."

"Lord Walder will expect you to say yes. No matter what word games were played." Alysanne could still feel the burn of Lady Catelyn's glare. "He will find any reason to break faith and run to whomever benefits him. Which will no longer be us. You must agree"

Lord Edmure sprung to his feet at that. "I will not marry a Frey," he insisted. "She had no right," he pointed at Alys. Grey Wind bristled at her feet.

"No, she didn't." Lady Catelyn stood tall, and Alys' temper flared. Lady Catelyn had always supported her before, and her disapproval still lingered over her heart.

"Do not tell me you wouldn't have done the same," Alysanne had argued back. I know she would have. Growing up, she'd always stressed to her and Sansa the importance of duty. Of doing your duty to your family, for your family. How is this any different?

Replaying the argument in her head only caused her temper to return. Alysanne still had not quite let go of the way Lady Catelyn suggested that perhaps she should have betrothed her own children, children who did not yet exist. What good is an alliance that must wait years to be sealed? Alys thought of a daughter, leaving home to marry a strange man she had never wanted nor met, in a place she had never seen, and felt ill. No child of mine will venture below the Neck.

What was done was done, however. Robb had put a quick end to their bickering, and Lord Edmure had stormed off without a word of agreement. It still rankled her. Alys took a deep breath and searched the yard for Ser Addam. He had not been posted at her door that morning, as he usually was, and his absence made her uneasy.

She found him speaking with the blacksmith. What business does he have there? She'd given him a new sword only a few years past for his name day. Surely he hasn't ruined it? He spotted her and walked towards her. She met him halfway, and questioned him as to what business he had with the blacksmith.

"The King's business," Ser Addam evaded.

Her brows rose. The King's business is my business as well. "And am I not to be privy to the King's business?"

"Not this time, little lion." Her face soured, which drew his deep chuckle from his chest.

She jutted her chin forward. "I thought you to be my loyal knight, Ser."

He bit back a smile, and his eyes shone with laughter. He placed a hand over his heart. "And I am, my queen. Loyal until the end."

"Then tell me what business Robb has with the smithy," she pleaded.

"It would be treason to betray the king's trust, would it not?" Alysanne huffed, and he laughed. "Were you always so nosy?"

She granted him a sidelong glare, which only made him chuckle. Around them, squires ran after their lords or knights. Lord Edmure sparred with the man in pink and blue she'd spotted earlier, and the Blackwood man watched on. Boys no older than Bran showed off newly forged steel, and Alys could faintly hear them boasting of yet to be earned glory. Further down the yard, she could see familiar faces of northmen; the Karstark brothers, the Smalljon, Eddara's father, Daryn Hornwood. The yard was a flurry of activity, all the faces, colors, and livery blurred together. How many of these men will remain by the end of the next moon? The end of the war?

She wrapped her arm in his and led them toward the other northmen. "You'll be at the council? This evening?"

His lips pressed into a thin line. "I had not thought to be."

Alys stopped short. "Why ever not?"

Ser Addam hesitated. "I do not know that my presence would be overly welcome."

She inhaled sharply. "Has anyone made their displeasure known to you?" They started forward once more. Which of Robb's bannermen? Lord Bolton is distrustful by nature, he barely tolerates me. She would not put it past him to share his opinions with Ser Addam. Or perhaps Lord Karstark. He seemed to have no qualms about sharing his doubts regarding her loyalties. Surely, those doubts extended to her sworn sword. But he attended council meetings on the road to no protest.

He laid a placating hand over hers. "None of your bannermen have made any comment," she made to question him further, but he continued on. "The riverlords do not trust me, I can see it. I would not make things more difficult for you or Robb."

She chewed at her lip. "I would have you attend anyway." I am not like to send him from my side. Ser Addam was her near constant shadow. Any mistrust the lords may harbor for her loyalty to him and his to her was not contained to war councils, she suspected. "They'll learn to trust you."

"They may," he nodded, "but it may be better that they learn to trust me on the battlefield."

She opened her mouth to argue, but a shout interrupted her. "Your grace!" Alysanne peered over her shoulder to find her husband's squire weaving his way through the yard. She sighed. Duty calls. If Olyvar was searching for her, it could only mean that Robb had need of her. Olyvar came to a stop before her and bowed. He rose and would not quite meet her eyes. At least he no longer cowers in fear. Meek as a dormouse, that one. He was not much older than Robb, but one would be forgiven for thinking otherwise. Alysanne hardly faulted him, from what she'd seen of the Frey's. For a son of Lord Walder, he isn't half bad.

"Yes, Olyvar?" She gave him a reassuring smile. It worked some, as he met her eyes.

"Lord Robb - King Robb sent me to fetch you. Says there's a lord who requests an audience." She restrained a frown. More complaints. The lords who requested an audience with Robb felt never-ending. Robb always requested she attend as well. "When else would we find the time to see one another," he'd teased.

First, it had been Lord Bolton, who once again requested command of a host from Robb. Then there was Lord Bracken, who felt he'd been overlooked in favor of Lord Blackwood. Another Riverlord, whose name Alys could not recall, complained that he deserved room inside Riverrun rather than in the encampment. Lord Umber had requested an audience as well, which Alys had not been present for. Then had come Lord Bracken again, who accused men from the Blackwood encampment of stealing from their food stores.

She thanked Olyvar, who sped off in another direction. Alysanne bid farewell to Ser Addam, who insisted on escorting her to Robb's chambers. I made my way here just fine. She did not argue, however. His presence felt familiar, felt safe. He would let no one harm her. He would die before he let that happen. The thought both comforted and horrified her.

It crossed her mind then that Robb had no such guard. Did the Kings of Winter have a Kingsguard? She supposed not. It was Visenya who suggested it to Aegon after a failed assassination attempt, and the Kings of Winter had been around far longer. I will not wait for an attempt on his life. He'd already formed a battle guard, much to her peace of mind. Theon and Jon, Daryn Hornwood, Eddard and Torrhen Karstark, Wendel Manderly, Dacey and Jorelle, what more is a kingsguard? She filed the thought away for after the audience.

It did not take them long to reach Robb's chambers. Alysanne nodded to the guard standing outside Robb's borrowed solar. Garet, I believe. She'd made an effort to learn the names of as many of the men who had marched south as she could. An impossible feat, given just how many men there were. She'd contended herself with at least knowing the names of the men who guarded them. The guard opened the door for her, and Ser Addam remained outside.

The solar afforded to Robb was just across the hall from hers, and only slightly bigger. It contained a hearth, as hers did, as well as a large window. The tapestries in his solar depicted Tully's from the age of heroes, or so she'd been told. She paused for a moment at seeing Lord Reed.

Alys had seen little of the man since he joined their host at Moat Cailin. She found him to be rather unassuming, as he mostly remained with his own men. Neither Robb nor Lord Reed made use of the ornate desk, and instead had pulled chairs into a small circle. At Lord Reed's feet sat a large, ornate chest made of a dark oak, at Robb's lay Grey Wind. They stood at her entrance, and Lord Reed bowed at the waist. "Your grace," he greeted.

Robb strode over to her and led her to a seat next to his own. "Lord Reed," she took her seat, adjusting her skirts around her. "What troubles you?"

Lord Reedsmiled apologetically. "I beg your pardon, your grace, but we must wait for one more to arrive," he said.

The door opened and revealed Jon before she could question who they were waiting for. Peculiar. Robb always made it clear to Jon that his counsel was more than welcomed, yet he preferred to avoid meetings with lords. What is different this time?

"Your grace, my lord," Alysannealmost frowned at his formal greeting. "Olyvar said you asked for me?" Jon asked, confusion writ across his face. Ghost trotted silently behind him.

Robb gestured to the remaining open seat. "Not me. Lord Reed." What could Lord Reed possibly want with Jon? Jon's brows only pulled closer together.

Lord Reed waited until Jon took his seat before he began. "Jon. It is good to see you well." Lord Reed studied his face. He continued in a soft voice. "There is much of your father in you, if one knows where to look."

Alysanne spared a glance at Robb. Jon looks much like Lord Stark. Robb glanced back at her in confusion. Jon's head tilted slightly. His voice was unsure when he said, "I–Thank you, my lord."

If Lord Reed was put off by their confusion, he concealed it well. "You'll forgive me for my brusqueness, but there is no easy or polite way to broach this matter. How much did Ned share with you about your mother?"

Alysanne blinked in shock. Never had she heard anyone mention Jon's mother so directly, save for Jon himself. Robb mirrored her shock, and Jon appeared taken aback as well. "My mother?" he questioned. "He told me he would tell me of her when we saw each other again." Her heart sank. He never told me that.

Lord Reed's forehead creased. "That is all? He never told you more?"

"No, I'm afraid he didn't." Jon's voice had taken on a sharp edge, as it often did when others questioned him about his mother. Lord Reed reached into his doublet and retrieved a folded piece of parchment, but did not hand it over. It appeared old, but still in good condition. The seal had been broken, though Alys could not quite make out the sigil pressed into the red wax on the back.

Lord Reed cast his eyes briefly down to the folded parchment in his hands. "That is what I had feared. It is a sad tale, and I am sorry that I will be the one to tell it." How does Lord Reed know who she is? He had always featured prominently in the stories Lord Stark told of the rebellion, and he had always spoken highly of Lord Reed. Alysanne did her best to recall her lessons with Maester Luwin. Did he ever mention a sister of Lord Reed? That would explain the fondness Lord Stark held for him, as well as why Lord Reed knew the truth of who she was. Jon is on the shorter side. Alys searched Lord Reed's face, but could find no resemblance to Jon.

Jon swallowed and gripped the arms of his chair. "She's dead, isn't she?"

Lord Reed paused a moment, and then said, "yes, I'm afraid that she is." Jon's head dropped, and Alys' heart broke for him. She had suspected as much, and she knew Jon had as well, but it was one thing to guess and another entirely to know it for true. "I will tell you the full story. But you must promise to remain until I have finished."

Jon rubbed at his eyes. "Aye, I promise." He hunched forward and rested his elbows on his knees.

Lord Reed looked to Robb, and then her, butneither of them said anything. "You've heard, I'm sure, the story of the rebellion and what started it all."

"Yes," Alysanne said. "My uncle Rhaegar took Lyanna Stark."

Lord Reed acknowledged her. "That is a version of it. You'll also know that Rhaegar kept her hidden in Dorne, with Kingsguard to guard her." They nodded, and he continued. Was Jon fathered on their journey to Dorne? That would make him a Sand, not a Snow. There were always whispers of Lord Stark and Ashara Dayne. "Then you will also have heard that when we found the Lady Lyanna, she was barely alive. A fever took her just after we arrived." What does Lyanna Stark have to do with Jon's mother? "That is not entirely the truth."

"What do you mean?" Robb asked. Lord Reed grimaced.

"She died of a fever, that, in part, is true." He shifted the folded parchment in his hand. The three-headed dragon stamped into the wax stole Alysanne's breath for a moment and stopped her heart. "She died of a childbed fever."

Childbed fever. Why would Lyanna... She grasped Robb's arm and he flinched, watchingher in concern. Her heart pounded in her chest. Rhaegar stole Lyanna. Rhaegar kept her in a tower. Her head swam, her vision blurred. A Sand, not a Snow. Rhaegar left Kingsguard to guard the tower. Childbed fever. Ned Stark came back with bones and a babe. Her mind would not settle on the truth, could not settle. She squeezed her eyes shut, shook her head to try and clear it. Her chest hitched. A Sand not a Snow. The Kingsguard. Childbed fever. Bones and a babe. Bones and a bastard. "Alysanne?" Robb nudged her. She met Lord Reed's knowing gaze. "A Sand, not a Snow," she mumbled. A dragon, her mind screamed.

"Almost," Lord Reed said. He addressed Jon. "Remember. You promised to stay until the end, and I am not yet finished," he handed him the folded parchment. Jon ran his fingers over the red seal before unfolding it. Robb's eyes flicked to the parchment in Jon's hands, to Lord Reed, then to her, and back to the parchment. He snapped his gazeto her. She nodded.

Jon's hands fell to his lap. His breathing was ragged, eyes wild. "Is this-," he breathed deep. "Is this truly from her?"

"It is," Lord Reed nodded. Robb tentatively held out his hand. "Jon, can I," he trailed off. Jon thrust the letter in his direction. Robb grabbed it delicately, and Jon buried his head in his hands. A heavy silence overtook the room while Robb read the letter. Jon's shoulders shuddered. Go to him, her mind begged. But her feet would not move.

Lord Reed unlatched chest. "There is more." The lid fell back and hid the contents from their eyes. From the chest, Lord Reed lifted a bridal cloak. Black silk with the three heads of the dragon embroidered in red. Rubies glittered and sparkled in the light. He passed it to Jon, who laid it numbly across his lap. The maiden cloak came next, the Stark direwolf clear as day. Not a Snow. Not a Sand. A Targaryen. He spun the chest around. Alysanne found herself on her feet, moving closer. She knelt down in front of the chest, her hand hovering over the contents. Impossible, her mind yelled. Grey Wind crept forward, his great head looming over her shoulder.

"Jon," she whispered. He joined her on the ground. Nestled inside, safe in the chest, untouched by the years, were two dragon eggs. One was a brilliant red swirled with silver that glittered in the sunlight. Red, like Ghost's eyes. The other was a pearlescent white with veins of amethyst purple throughout. Jon had yet to say a word, and Alysanne gently plucked the pearlescent white egg from where it rested. She heard Robb's sharp intake of breath as she lifted it into the light.

She turned the egg in her hands. The sunlight caught the scales, and they reflected with pinks and blues and lavender. The veins of amethyst purple shone, almost glowing. It felt warm under her palms, her fingers tingled and buzzed. Grey Wind sniffed the egg and let out a low whine. Jon had yet to touch the other egg and only stared blank-faced. He only stared at it in awe. He stood and stumbled backwards to his chair, his head back in his hands.

Robb knelt gently by her side and peered into the chest. "The letter mentioned three eggs," he noted.

He ran his fingers over the egg in Alysanne's hands before reaching in the chest. Lord Reed stood. "Aye, it did. But there were only two when we arrived." Robb lifted a sword from the chest, veiled in velvet to the hilt. He let the velvet cover fall to the ground, and dark rippled steel flashed in the light. Valyrian steel, like Ice. The hilt made of gold with a ruby inlaid in the handle, the pommel fashioned into golden flames. It's beautiful.

Robb held it aloft in the light, and Jon stared at it with the same blank expression. "Where did he find it?" The sword?

"Summerhall," Lord Reed answered. "Rhaegar spent much of his time there. He thought it lost beyond the wall, but his dreams showed him differently." Chills ran down her arms at the mention of dreams. Alys carefully set the egg back in the chest and stood, brushing off her skirts. She eyed the sword in askance. "Thought what lost?"

"Dark Sister," Robb held the hilt out to Jon, but he would not take it. "It hasn't been seen in years." Dark Sister. Alysanne frowned. Visenya's sword?

Lord Reed bowed. "You have the truth now. My role here is done." He made for the door, but Jon leapt to his feet.

His chair screeched backwards and nearly toppled over. Ghost stalked forward. "That's it?" Lord Reed stopped. "You can't just-" he cut himself off and placed a staying hand on Ghost's back.

"There is naught else I can tell you. I am sorry." Lord Reed ignoredGhost and walked to the door once more.

"Lord Reed!" It was Alysanne who stopped him this time. If word of this gets out before Jon is ready…

He smiled placatingly. "Fear not, your grace. I haven't spoken a word of this to anyone. I won't do so now." Lord Reed was gone out the door, as swift as the wind.

Alysanne spun back around. Jon stood quietly over the chest, eyes locked on the eggs inside. Ghost sniffed quietly at the red one, then nosed the sword still in Robb's hands. "Jon," Robb ventured.

"He lied to me," Jon whispered. "He lied to me, to you, to your mother, everyone." Alys glided forward and reached a hand to his shoulder, but he stepped back out of her reach.

Robb looked between the two of them. "You're the heir to the throne," he breathed. The rightful king, her thoughts sang.

"Don't call me that," Jon spat. "I'm not."

"But you are," Alys reaffirmed. "As much as you don't want to be, you are."

Jon bent down and grabbed the red egg. In the light, the silver swirls seemed to ripple and flow, like the Tumblestone just beyond the walls. The red scales shone but remained unyielding against the silver current. Robb laid Dark Sister across his vacated chair and picked up the white egg. His lips turned downwards. "It's turned to stone," he stated. Jon furrowed his brows at Robb's words. Stone? It had not felt like stone to her. When I held it, it felt... alive. Alysanne reached her arms out for the egg and he passed it to her. It felt as it had before, when she first held it. Her heart pulled. Grey Wind sat next to her, his head nearly level with the egg.

Jon replaced his egg into the chest. He reached out for Dark Sister before grabbing it, running gentle fingers across the flat of the blade. Ghost stuck his head into the chest to look at the egg, nudging it with his nose.

"Rhaegar meant it for you," Robb said. He stepped forward to Jon and placed his hand firmly on his shoulder. "You're still my brother. And if you want the throne, we'll take it."

Jon shook his head. He bent over and retrieved the velvet cloth from the ground. "I don't know. I need time."

Alysanne carefully placed her egg back into the chest. The air felt icy against her arms without it. "It's your choice, Jon," she whispered.

"I need time," he muttered. He set the sword back into the chest and hurried out of the room. Ghost trotted after him.

Alysanne knelt next to the chest again. She placed a hand on her egg as well as Jon's. Both warm. She summoned Robb over. "Do they both feel cold to you?"

Robb felt both of them. "Both of them. Why?"

Ghost nosed her egg. "They're not cold to me." Robb eyed her in confusion, before putting his hands back on the eggs. Robb did not say anything. They replaced the cloaks over the eggs, and shoved the chest under his desk. The sky burned as it turned to night, and the red comet shone as bright as ever.