A.N. Reviews and Comments make me write faster! (more notes below)
V
Duty
THE QUEEN
Alysanne looked at herself in the mirror while a servant adjusted her gown.
I'm getting old. She thought, her eyes tracing the lines on her face. The ones on her forehead and in the corners of her eyes were the most notorious.
She was currently forty, and soon to be a year older. Though she was not fond of the notion, her age was no secret, in fact, it was well known that the queen was some years older than the king. Although it was plain to see that the years were kinder to her image than her husband's. For one, she still remained slender and fit, as fit as a woman can be, that is.
While she mused, the servant girl finished her work with her gown: a high-neck grey-green dress with dark grey myrish lace. Something simple, something that looks much less ostentatious than it actually was. So it was the most sensible thing to wear.
"Your grace?" The servant girl asked plaintively. "How would you like your hair?"
Alysanne took in the servant girl's face; it was long and plain and insipid, Like most northern girls.
"A simple bun would do," the queen told the girl with a kind smile. Commoners loved when someone of noble birth smiles at them. It makes them feel "special".
As expected, the servant girl smiled in return and eagerly led the queen to a chair so she could work on her hair. Simple people, simple minds. Alysanne thought as the servant girl worked on her hair.
"Your grace is very handsome, and very tall," said the simple servant girl in a tone of childish wonder.
She smiled at the compliment, for a woman it was seldom a compliment to be called tall, too tall. Alysanne thought of her cousin Selyse. The poor thing besides being too tall was also too ugly. Even well pass thirty, Selyse stills remains a maiden.
"You are kind. And thank the seven for that I have a much taller husband." Alysanne said as she rose from the chair. She went to get one of her crowns, the small silver one, almost like a circlet, adorned with black diamonds. "You know, most men do not like women that are taller than them," because they don't feel as powerful beside them. The queen wanted to add, but she might come off as bitter, so she gave a smile instead, full of false mirth.
The servant girl nodded at her in what Alysanne could only presume to be a partial understanding of what she just told her. Simple people, simple minds.
Alysanne gave the servant girl a final smile, picked up a letter she left on the sideboard to slip it under her sleeve, and left her room.
Outside of her rooms the handsome Ser Arys Oakheart was standing vigil, his white armour shimmering in the dim light of the corridors of Winterfell. "Your grace." The young knight said with a nod.
She nodded back in recognition, and went straight to the point. "Ser Arys, take me to my husband." And the knight did as she bid. While they walk, the queen ordered some servants to wake the prince and the princess, and to make sure they were ready to break their fast.
Two guards were standing by the door of the king's rooms. She asked one of them if the king was presentable since, for once, she didn't want to run into her husband fucking some other woman.
"The king is resting, your grace." The guard she asked said, Alysanne noted that he stammered a bit. There's a whore then.
Alysanne kept a straight face, a mask to hide her distaste. "However so, let me in." And the guards opened the door for her.
Her husband's room stank of wine, ale, piss and something else she would rather not dwell on. In the dim light, she could see Robert sitting on a chair, fully clothed, with no crown upon his head, sleeping soundly. He looked almost common. Alysanne looked over the room to see if there was anybody else in there, she found no one.
No whore nor wench at sight. I am surprised, Robert. She thought.
The queen drew the drapes open and let the morning light in the room. That seemed to have awoken the king. Robert stirred and groaned as he rubbed his eyes. "What time is it?" Her husband managed to say. "And where is that bard?"
"It's morning. And that bard left… With plenty of coin I wager," she told him as she noticed the empty coin pouch on the table. "Did you sleep well?"
"Like shit," Robert replied rubbing his neck.
"I can see…" Alysanne muttered.
"Why are you here?" The king asked in return, now looking at her.
"I came here to tell you that we are all going to break our fast together."
"We?" Robert interrupted, rudely.
"As family, I meant. There are some matters we need to discuss."
"You can figure that out with the children by yourself," he dismissed.
"I can't. It's about the betrothal you arranged," Alysanne pointed out, and Robert looked at her intently, likely wondering how she found out. "Your friend Ned told me how we were going to share grandchildren someday," she clarified.
"What's wrong with that? Ned's daughter would make a good enough queen. And the north is strong, we need them as allies."
"They are our allies already. They fought for you in the beginning of your reign and fought for us against the Ironborn."
"So did the riverlands, and the vale. And the reach and the westerlands against Greyjoy!"
"Yet you are not making Mace Tyrell your Hand, and marrying his daughter to your heir." A notion the Fat Flower undoubtedly fancied.
Robert ran both of his hands through his face. "Ned's loyalty should be rewarded."
If you just knew.
"You already named him your Hand…"
"A Baratheon will marry a Stark. You won't change my mind, Alysanne, I tell you."
She was growing tired of this. "And what about the dowry? For how much is he going to sell us his daughter's maidenhead? What do we get from a Stark queen?"
"For fucks sake Alysanne! I cannot ask Ned for much, he can't afford–"
"That is the other problem," the queen interrupted. She drew in a nearby chair and sat. "Robert, we are over two million gold dragons in debt with the Iron bank. " She ran her hand through her hair as if to combed it a little. "We cannot afford to give away the chance of getting some money so easily."
"A dowry won't solve the problem! You can't possibly hope for anyone paying more than–"
"A hundred thousand gold dragons?" Alysanne cut him off. "If that's what you think then you forget that my father paid more and gave you a sizable army," and the loyalty of the citadel and the faith. She wanted to add.
"Then let's ask your father for the money!" He had the nerve to propose.
"After what you did at his wedding?" During the fourth wedding of her father, Robert had the great idea to insult her family by taking the virginity of one of the wife-to-be's bedmaids in the bed intended for her father and his new bride.
It was a painful memory. She had been pregnant with Cassandra. She made sure the lovely Delena knew her pain.
"That was years ago! And he shouldn't have married again. Your father has enough children already…"
She wished she could disagree, the fact that her father married her own cousin (a great niece to her own mother) bothered her more than she would like to admit, so instead, she just gave him an icy look. "Let's not change the subject, husband."
"What do you want me to do, wife?" Her husband asked, now frustrated.
"I want you to, for once, act the king," said the queen as she stood.
"You bloody hag, I can't just withdraw that promise!" Now the king stood as well. He was angry.
"Change it. Tell him it was all a misunderstanding, and betroth Cassandra to his heir," she suggested, her eyes never leaving his.
"What about Cassie's dowry then?" Robert glared at her annoyed.
She waved him off, "I'll handle that." Alysanne didn't trust her husband with the matters of coin. She could barely trust her husband anything these days.
The queen held her husband's glare for what seemed an eternity until the king finally gave up. "I'll talk to Ned."
"Thank you." She was about to leave but the queen remembered the other matter that was to be discussed. "And, forgive me, but there's something else…"
"Now what?!"
"Yesterday morn a raven arrived from Casterly Rock. Lord Tywin wants his daughter to be returned to him, immediately." The queen fixed the paper under her sleeve. "I would have told you before, but given what happened…"
Robert waved his hand in dismissal. "Send that bitch packing! I don't care."
Alysanne ignored him. "I was thinking that we could use this as an opportunity to travel to the Westerlands to negotiate with Lord Tywin."
"Now you want to negotiate?" Robert asked bewildered.
"With one of the richest and most powerful men in Westeros? Of course I do!" Alysanne picked up her husband's crown from the ground. How can he be so careless? "We need allies Robert, powerful allies."
Robert looked pained. That got him thinking. "And what? You mean to take the whole court to the Westerlands? Are you mad, woman?!"
"Not really, only the Lannisters and some of the girls, and enough swords to defend us all in case of emergency. Fifty men would do," she told him. Some of the Riverlords were of uncertain loyalty. "It would be most beneficial. I believe that once Lord Tywin hears of the blatant attempts of the Tyrells to make their daughter queen, he would be more eager to… ah, gives us an incentive to marry our Edric to one of his granddaughters."
"And what's so bloody wrong with the Tyrells?!" Robert almost roared. "You cannot stop talking about them, questioning every fucking thing they do. You are afraid of them."
Alysanne was taken aback. "They have way too much power. Can't you see that?"
"Then let's marry our son to their girl. You said it yourself: we need powerful allies. Besides he likes her well enough."
Because she is pretty enough, Alysanne thought with derision. "You don't understand, you don't know them as much as I do, Robert. Mace Tyrell is the greediest man in the Seven Kingdoms. The more you give him, the more he wants."
"Would Lannister be any different? Renly told me–."
"I don't care what Renly told you. He is their puppet." A powerful and dangerous puppet, she should have added.
"He's not," anger laced her husband's voice. "I would know. I am his brother."
"So is Stannis, and he agrees with me."
For a moment something seemed to lighten on Robert's face. "And why don't we marry one of Lannister's granddaughters to Stannis?" He asked. "The eldest is a Velaryon. And the Velaryons are his vassals. It would be appropriate after some time."
Alysanne snorted. "Do you think I didn't try that?" A few years ago, before he ever married little Ellyn, she had Stannis write to the young Lord of Driftmark asking for his sister's hand. The young lordling rejected the offer. "Besides, Stannis has already found himself a new wife."
"Already? So soon?" He seemed surprised. "But Ellyn died a few months ago."
"A few months?" She repeated nonplussed. "Robert, she's been dead for well over a year." The young Lady of Dragonstone had caught Greyscale about two years ago during an outbreak in the isle. Stannis was spared because he was in King's Landing, but not his pregnant wife. It was said that poor Ellyn had turn completely into stone with the child inside her womb.
Robert looked at her, surprised. "Huh, I guess I forgot…" He laughed a little. "As for late, I don't realize how fast time flies." The king said as he reached for the flagon of wine.
But Alysanne reached it first. "As for late, you don't realize anything."
"Give me that back." He said angered, and the king tried to take the flagon from her hand. But the queen dodged it.
"Not until you listen to me," she told him.
"I've been listening to you all bloody morning!" Robert tried again.
"No!" She dodged, again. "You've drunk enough!"
"Alysanne!" He sounded so desperate and angry, almost like a child having a tantrum. But she would not relent. "Give it to me!" He raised his arm and seemed about to hit her.
She just looked into his eyes without flinching. She was the queen and a Hightower, she told herself, she will not quiver. The queen dropped the flagon to the ground.
He stopped.
"Damn it," he slumped into his seat: a miracle it didn't break under the weight. "I'm sorry. I didn't ask for this, all of this."
"Neither did I."
Robert sat there in silence, wearing a lost expression on his face.
He feels guilty. Alysanne noted. If she played his cards right, Robert would grant her anything.
Alysanne put the flagon back on the small table, walked over to her husband, knelt down beside him and spoke to him softly. "Lannister over Tyrell. Trust me, Robert." She offered his crown back.
Robert groaned, ran his other hand through his bloated face and took the crown from her hands. "My head hurts... Do what you want Alysanne. Now piss off! Your husband needs to sleep."
The queen had to conceal her smile. I'll write the letter myself. Though I should tell Cersei about this. I might be able to get some information. The Lannister woman had been evasive as for late, she might know something about this whole affair with her father.
Alysanne rose and walked away from him, but she stopped at the door of his room. "Don't forget that I planned for us to go and pray at the sept for young Brandon's health." She reminded her husband. "Then I'll visit Catelyn and the boy…"
"How… can you do that?" Robert's voice was barely a whisper.
Because I am not like you. I am no coward. "Robert," she said tired, she always got tired when talking to him. "Please change your clothes for breakfast."
···················································
With Ser Arys still trailing behind her, Alysanne left her husband's quarters for the guest's house where the Lannister apartments were. There at the door, a tall and menacing figure welcomed her. It was Sandor Clagane, the Hound.
"Clegane," the queen said in greeting.
"Your grace," the man said in a raspy and rough voice.
"I need a word with Lady Cersei," she told the man, and he dutifully did as he was bid. Quick and efficient and straight to the point, I need more men like this one.
She waited a minute, and Alysanne could hear the muffled sound of voices arguing over something before the door was opened for her. The apartment the Lannisters stayed in was large, not as large as the one assigned to the royal family, but spacious nonetheless. There, was Cersei herself, her brother the imp and her three children having their breakfast.
And strangely enough, Ser Jaime of the Kingsguard was also there. He might have not been in his shift, but she could not be sure. Yet the Queen was certain of one thing: She did not like that. Ser Jaime may know too much about them, he might have a penchant for gossip for all she knew.
All of them rose and uttered some words of courtesy. "Forgive me for the hour, but I trust that you are all well rested," Alysanne told them, as she gave a good long look at them all.
The beautiful Cersei was wearing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. Her twin, cocksure as ever, was smirking. The ever-observant Tyrion was looking at her intently. His ugly face gave trace to no emotion other than cautious interest.
The children, however, caught her interest.
Young Tommen was looking straight to the floor, trying to hide his face. Myrcella kept giving passing looks at her mother and sister. And the lovely Elaena was quite agitated, her smile tremulous and her eyes were red and bleary. She had been crying... The queen noted.
"Queen Alysanne." The Lannister woman greeted her again. As she bowed in courtesy, Alysanne could see the woman's ample bosom. "I cannot possibly complain. House Stark has been more than generous with us," Cersei said, her face a bloodless mask of snow-white skin. "You wish to speak to me."
She was lying, Alysanne knew, the Lannister woman would never be happy in such an austere environment. "I am glad, truly. And yes. I wanted to talk to you, alone." The queen said the last part looking at the others.
Promptly, Cersei dismissed her family; the girls went to their rooms, Tommen and Tyrion went to the one they shared, and Ser Jaime left the apartments altogether. When they were alone, it was Alysanne who broke the silence.
"I couldn't help but notice that your eldest was crying," the queen said in practised worry. "Forgive me for asking, but what has gotten our sweet Elaena so troubled?"
"What every maiden in the castle has: Sadness that Prince Edric has been betrothed to pretty and young Sansa," explained the Lannister, bitterness barely seeping through her perfect visage.
Even in the north gossip travels fast.
"My son? Betrothed?" Alysanne had to feign her surprise. "But Robert and I agreed that Cassandra would marry a Stark, not Edric." The queen tilted her head to emulate confusion.
That seemed to catch Cersei's interest.
"I must ask where did you receive such information?" The queen asked.
"My daughters told me. They heard Sansa bra–… Lady Sansa talking about it," Cersei corrected herself. It never ceases to amaze the queen that even Cersei Lannister's decorum managed to crack. Too beautiful and too spoiled… Born to be a queen.
"I am more than certain that this is nothing more than a simple misunderstanding. Your Elaena has no reason to be sad." She said with a small smile, a true one for once. "Now, to more important matters…" The queen took out the letter she hid in her sleeve. "A raven arrived last night." She told the blonde as she gave her the letter, "From your Lord father. He wants you to return to Casterly Rock."
Cersei took the piece of paper from her hands and read it. It did not escape her the woman's ardent movements. Did she expect this?
"Worry naught," Alysanne told her. "I have no intention of sending you back to Casterly Rock alone. I think it would be rather timely to use this opportunity to discuss certain matters with your father." Cersei seemed to understand the implication, as her eyes brightened like wildfire.
"My lady, I need you to write your father a letter informing him that a part of the royal procession will travel to Casterly Rock. That queen wishes to parley with his lordship."
"I will, your grace." Cersei bowed; her cleavage visible again, and a ghost of a smile visible on her ivory mask.
"Splendid." The queen brought her hands together. "And before I leave, I must ask something: Why the urgency?" Alysanne tilted her head slightly, and gave Cersei her most engaging smile.
"Most like, my father has found a new groom for me." Now the Lannister woman made no effort in hiding her bitterness.
That would be her fourth husband… Alysanne thought. If this new husband dies, people might start whispering about her. Some already did.
"Hopefully, you are much young still," she lied. Two and thirty was hardly a marriageable age. "I must leave you now, my lady." Cersei bowed her head in response and muttered some courtesy.
The queen exited the apartments only to see Jaime Lannister talking to Ser Arys Oakheart.
"Ser Jaime. I am pleased to see that you are enjoying yourself with your family here." Alysanne told the man, "But I must remind you that this is not a vacation. You have duties to attend."
"Forgive me, my queen, but I am not in my shift." Jaime tried to explain, but she was having none of that.
"Now you are," Alysanne put ice in her voice. "There is no Kingsguard guarding my husband's rooms. Armour up and guard his apartments."
The Kingslayer's eternal smile cracked at that. "Of course, your grace." The disgraced knight bowed and left to change.
"Ser Arys, take me back to the royal apartments."
···················································
When they arrived at the royal apartments, the queen noticed that only Cassandra and her septa were present at the table, her son Edric nowhere to be seen.
"Cassandra, where's your brother?"
Her daughter made a face, it made her look uglier than she really was. And sadly, that's considering the fact that the princess could never be accounted as a pretty girl, at least not as her sister had been. Her features were too broad –too much like her husband's–, and she was not only too tall but also too big for a girl of nine.
"I haven't seen him," Cassandra shrugged.
"I believe he hasn't left his room, your grace," the septa said in her old raspy voice, and Alysanne went to check her son's room.
At the door stood a guard, a young man no older than twenty and red-faced. As she got closer to the door she understood why: moans, giggles and grunts could be heard outside the room. She knew those sounds far too well, the queen reflected with distaste as memories of her cousin Delena and the many other whores Robert would bring to her castle. And the shame they brought her too.
Now her son shames her as well.
She told the blushing guard to bring Ser Arys immediately and the man fled, scared of her wrath. Let's hope this slut is not highborn, she thought as she opened the doors.
To her dismay, she saw the very highborn Lady Mathilda Rowan bent over naked getting fucked like some bitch by her son. When they saw her the girl had the decency to look ashamed, covering herself up with the sheets, her son however looked more irritated than anything else.
"I told the guard to not let anyone in…" He said as he withdrew himself from her, scurrying to grab his robe. Mathilda remained in the bed now covering her face with the blankets.
"So this is why you didn't want to go to the hunt…" She muttered almost to herself.
"What are you doing here?" Edric asked annoyed, but Alysanne ignored him. She turned to the girl instead.
"Girl," the queen put ice in her voice. "You do nothing but shame yourself and your family…" She looked at her son as well, he blushed a little. Alysanne picked up the girl's smallclothes and threw them at her. "Get dress. Now." The girl began to weep as she hastily began putting her clothes back. It serves her well. "When we reach Lannisport I will ship you to Oldtown, I'll write to your aunt."
"Lannisport?" The prince asked confused. "I thought we were going to return to King's Landing, not the Westerlands. What's going on, mother?"
Alysanne only shot her son a glance, cold and heavy with disrelish. The same as the ones she often gave to his father.
By the time the Rowan girl finished Ser Arys arrived and was standing next to the queen. "Ser Arys, take Mathilda to the maester. Make sure she drinks her moon tea." Alysanne instructed. "And be discreet."
"As you wish, my queen." Ser Arys vowed, took the weeping girl by the arm and left her son's room in a hurry, as if he grew ashamed by association.
Now completely alone with her firstborn Alysanne talked to him. "Be thankful that the girl was already soiled," she put ice in her voice. Mathilda Rowan lost her maidenhead to some bard; Rhonda had told her so. The girl's father had claimed it had been rape, so she took the girl into her court as a kindness to her family. But now the queen doubted that, Mathilda proved to be a whore after all. "Otherwise we would find ourselves trapped in an unwanted match." Albeit not notably rich, by all accounts the Rowans of Goldengrove were still one of the most prominent and old families in the Reach, any insult might have required.
"Pfff… I am trapped in an unwanted match," Edric replied, annoyed.
"Would it be so bad? The Stark girl is pretty enough," she found herself saying despite herself. Sansa is a pretty girl and would grow into a beauty, just like her mother. Why is he complaining so much? "Regardless, you won't be marrying Sansa Stark."
That seemed to catch Edric's attention. "I won't?! But I thought–"
She cut him off. "I talked with your father. We've agreed that you won't be marrying her. We've settled for another match with the Starks. "
"Don't tell me I am marrying the ugly child!" said Edric, appalled
He was talking about Arya Stark. Though unlike her sister, the queen would never call her pretty, the girl was hardly ugly. Plain and unremarkable was a better suited description.
Plain and unremarkable just like Lyanna Stark. Alysanne remembered the long, miserable and insipid face of the girl that started it all.
"Then, who am I going to marry? And what about the Westerlands? We weren't–"
She cut him off, again, "I'll explain everything at the table with your father." And the queen left for the hall of their apartments, where the dining table was.
"Mother, what was Lady Mathilda doing here?" Cassandra asked, her naïve mind unable to understand the situation.
Alysanne wasn't sure what to answer. "She came here to visit me; she had something important to tell me."
Her daughter wasn't satisfied, "but why was she in Edric's room? And why was her gown torn?"
Now the queen was truly trapped, should she tell her what happened? Her daughter wasn't even ten yet, what should she say? "I…" Though, before she could even answer her husband came in through the doors, and for once she was truly happy to see him. "Robert, I am glad you came!" Alysanne smiled, but that smile faltered when she noted with displeasure that Jaime Lannister was trailing behind him, I should have told him to patrol the walls of the castle, the queen chastised herself. She didn't want him to listen to their conversation.
"Father!" Cassandra went running towards the king shouting with glee, Robert picked her up by the waist and spun her in a circle, squealing. Father and daughter returned to the table and sat down.
"Where's my son?" Robert asked as he grabbed a piece of bacon from his plate.
"He is getting dressed," she responded; her voice smooth with deceit.
"You know." He said as he chewed on a piece of bacon. "I saw that freckled girl… That niece of yours, weeping. Oakheart was taking her somewhere, I think."
"Are you talking about Mathilda?" Cassandra asked.
"She is not my niece, she's Rhonda's." Confusion was plastered on Robert's face, "My brother's wife," she had to clarify. How can he keep forgetting these things?
Robert nodded in understanding. "What happen to her?"
She was about to tell her husband some lie, but her daughter was quicker. "She was here this morning, in Edric's room," Cassandra said and Alysanne gave her an icy glare. Why did you have to talk?
Robert's eyes had grown wide as the plates, looking at her with disbelief. Why so surprised? He is your son.
Alysanne noticed that the conversation had caught the Kingslayer's attention. He might tell everything to his sister... "Oh, Ser Jaime? Could you please escort Prunella to the sept? You see, this morning she asked me if she could go and pray for young Brandon in the castle's sept." Alysanne shot the old septa a knowing glance. Thankfully the old woman took the hint and nodded to Ser Jaime.
"Of course, my queen." Ser Jaime bowed and he left with the old septa.
"What I think happened, happened?" Robert asked, still with his dumbfounded look. Alysanne gave him an uncomfortable glance which was enough to make him burst into laughter.
"So, he fuck–"
"Robert!" She cut him off. "For the seven! Have some decency, your daughter is here."
"I'm sorry," the king gave an apologetic shrug.
As if on cue, Edric came out of his room looking somewhat dishevelled. All of the eyes were on him and silence fell upon the room.
"My son!" Robert bellowed with enthusiasm.
"Do not endorse this!" The queen told her husband apprehensively. For all he knew his son could have raped that girl. It wouldn't have been the first time Edric had done something like that.
"Come on, woman. Our son is a man now, he has needs."
"He is four-and-ten. Hardly a man," she seethed.
"Well… Father is here," Edric said, completely uninterested in his parents' argument. "What about my betrothal? Who am I going to marry now?"
For once Alysanne appreciated her son's aloofness. "We haven't decided yet," he darted a quick glance at her husband. "But we were thinking of striking a bargain with Lord Tywin. As you may know, he has two granddaughters."
"So that's why you are going to Casterly Rock." A smile formed on her son's lips. He was thinking about Elaena Velaryon, she knew. She inherited all of Cersei's beauty, and from her father the precious blood of old Valyria.
And she had been her Joss' friend too. Though Alysanne suspected that Edric cared little about that.
"Though I am afraid that he will be more inclined to marry the younger one, Myrcella." Regardless, as much as she favoured the Velaryon girl the queen doubted that the Old Lion would be willing to pay as much for a granddaughter that did not share his name.
The smile on her son's face vanished, only to be replaced with an expression of disgust.
"It wouldn't be so bad if that happen," Alysanne tried to sound optimistic. "She'll grow into a beauty, I am certain: the little girl looks just like her mother at that age… it's almost eerie, actually."
"I would rather marry an ox than someone like Cersei Lannister…" Robert muttered.
"I said she looks like her mother, not that she is like her mother," the queen corrected her husband.
"Then I would prefer to marry that stupid Stark girl! It's better to wait five years than ten." Edric leaned back in his seat and folded his arms like a petulant child.
"You better watch your mouth, boy. That's Ned's daughter," the king warned.
"Too late, Edric. Your father and I already agree that your sister will be marrying Robb Stark." Alysanne told him nonchalantly. The queen could hear her daughter gasp with joy. "We cannot have a double union with an already loyal house."
"Am I to marry Robb?! Truly?!" Cassandra asked with girlish excitement.
"You will, sweetling." Robert affirmed, smiling.
"I pity them, the Starks. They will end up as beggars with all the expenses of clothing and food. Specially food. Loooots of food for this one." Edric sneered at his sister, mocking her joy.
In response, Cassandra threw a loaf of black bread at her brother. It hit his face, and Robert laughed.
Her children did not only look like their father but also acted like him, the queen reflected disappointed.
"Behave yourselves! The three of you!" Alysanne clamoured, her voice shrill and sharp. Black-haired heads turn to her and matching blue eyes looked somewhat abashed, but not enough as they should. "You will stop bickering like children."
"But I am a child!" Cassandra protested.
"You are a princess." Alysanne corrected. "And princesses do not scream and throw bread at their brothers."
"He called me fat!" Her daughter complained.
"Only because you are," her son mocked.
"Mother!" Cassandra whined.
"Edric, keep your thoughts to yourself," she commanded her firstborn. "It's unseemly for you to act in this manner. Especially with your sister." The young prince only leaned back into his chair with disinterest.
"Now back to the more important matters…" Alysanne placed her hands together and slightly leaned on the table. "In normal circumstances, we would have to leave Cassandra here in Winterfell, but given the situation with young Brandon I am quite certain that Lady Catelyn would not appreciate a royal addition to her household." The queen said. The truth was that her daughter was far too spoiled. Cassandra was demanding, and without the queen around to control her, she would wreak havoc within the castle the moment her demands are not met.
She's not ready yet.
"And regarding young Brandon. I have arranged a small ceremony tonight. Together, we are all going to the sept and pray to the mother for him." It was a mummer's show. Nothing more. Something to make the people of Winterfell appreciate the royal family better. They were dumb lords and peasants after all. Simple people, simple minds.
···················································
The ceremony was, as always, a dull affair. Septon Chayle said some blessings and preached about the seven aspects of grace, the queen and her children sang and prayed to the mother while her husband snored. Robert had never liked praying, so he would often drink himself until stupor, this time was no different. Thankfully nobody seemed to realise that the king fell asleep in the middle of the ceremony, and when it came time to light a candle on the mother's altar, Alysanne had to kick him to wake him up so they could finish.
After the whole ordeal ended the royal family had dinner, all of them but Alysanne, who decided to fast.
She instead visited Lady Stark, who had isolated herself along with her lethargic son in a room in the maester's tower.
The room was dark, the only light was an oil lamp on the nightstand next to where Catelyn sat. She had been there since the child fell. Her hair was a tangled mess and dark circles appeared beneath her eyes. The Lady of Winterfell didn't seem to notice that the queen had entered the room.
Alysanne took in the picture, the sick child bedridden and the grieving mother beside him, and she found herself five years in the past. When her Joss fell from her horse. When her Joss became bedridden. When her Joss died.
It became too real; she wanted to weep and mourn her Jocelyn, and little Borys who lived less than a year. But she was the queen, and she was not weak, she will not shed a tear. She wasn't Robert; she will not look away and pretend it didn't happend. She will face it.
The queen made herself known to Lady Stark. "Catelyn…" Alysanne said, her voice little more than a whisper. Little less than a kiss.
The lady in question turned to look at her, there was annoyance, then fear and then a certain bashfulness splattered on her face. The woman rose from her chair to greet her but the queen quickly dismissed it.
"Your grace," Catelyn said, her voice hoarse.
"Please, call me Alysanne. There is no need for formalities between us." And there shouldn't have been. Fifteen years ago, while their husbands wage war against the Targaryens, she and Catelyn stayed together in Riverrun where they had shared a pregnancy together. She had named her firstborn after Catelyn's husband, and in turn, Catelyn named her own after Alysanne's. Yet, ever since the welcoming feast the Stark woman had treated her with nothing more than the cold courtesies of a stranger.
Catelyn turned her glance back at her son. The queen could not blame her.
"Seeing this is not easy for me, you know. I have lived what is happening to you, and I know how painful it is." She looked at the woman, and was still focusing on her son. "When my daughter fell from her pony… She became bedridden just like your boy." Alysanne fought back the painful memory, don't cry Alysanne, don't cry.
Catelyn turned to her again. "Princess Cassandra?" She asked, her voice so little and so hopeful.
"No, Jocelyn." The queen corrected. It was the first time in years that she had uttered her name out loud. A bittersweet melody. "She was such a sweet child… so innocent and kind. Out of all of my children, she looked like me the most, you know?" She found herself smiling, remembering her daughter's tall but slight frame, the fine black hair that looked like silk and the pale blue eyes that looked almost white. She had been her favourite. Her Joss.
"Seven days and seven nights I waited. Praying and singing to her sleeping body. Only for her to wake up and die."
The Stark woman began to cry silent tears and looked away, almost ashamed. "Why are you telling me this?" Her voice was barely a whisper.
"So you don't make the same mistake I did… Prepare for the worse, Catelyn," she told her stiffly. "Life is cruel. Especially for those who love; those who are hopeful." A bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Life has little love for mothers. It loves to turn our joy into ashes," Alysanne told the crying lady. "Forgive me for this cruelty, but even in good faith I cannot tell you otherwise."
With that, the queen left the room. And something told the queen that it would be the last time she would ever see Catelyn Stark again.
Cold winds and silence awaited her outside the maester's tower. Alysanne sighed feeling defeated by her own ghosts. She looked at the stars and the moon. Her day has come to an end.
After a moment she caught a glimpse of a white direwolf across the courtyard, it's owner was scurrying across the courtyard in a poor attempt at stealth.
The bastard… She thought annoyed. He ought to have been sent to the wall by now; they had promised her as much.
The queen looked back at the tower feeling tired. There was still one thing left to do.
Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф·Ф
A.N. So what did you all think about Alysanne? I had great time writing this chapter, I truly did. And I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it.
Please R&R, and remember, constructive critisim is more than welcomed. Have a nice day everyone.