I am still working on this story, albeit slowly. Thank you for everyone who has read this far. I haven't gotten any reviews lately, so I don't know what you guys think, especially with what's been happening in the recent chapters. I don't like asking for people to review, but I'm starting to get desperate. Anyway, enjoy this chapter.

Chapter 11

"Alana, open the damned door this instant!" Ser Richard shouted, the thin frame separating them shaking as he pounded his fist against the wood. He had been at it for several minutes, rattling the door without giving her more than a few seconds of silence.

Alana had her head in her hands, her eyes shut tight and her knees tucked up under her chin, rocking quietly back in forth. "No," she breathed. "Go away!" this time with a shout.

"Alana, you're in terrible danger. Open the fucking door!" For a few moments, there was silence, and Alana let herself believe he had left. She let out a breath she didn't know she was holding, and slowly lifted her head. He's not real, she thought. He can't be. He's dead. But he seemed so real. She could see and hear him, she could talk to him and he would reply. Was he a curse from the gods for some unknown sin?

Unfortunately, her brief respite was ended by him furiously twisting the door knob, fighting the lock. "If you don't open this door," he began, his voice low and dangerous, "I'll break it down." Alana tightened her arms around her legs. "3..."

"Go away," Alana muttered. Why wouldn't he leave her alone? The dead should stay with the dead and the living should stay with the living. The two weren't meant to mix.

"2..." He continued. The rattling stopped for a moment, like the calm before the storm, and Alana knew he was preparing to knock the door down.

"Stay away from me!" she shouted back at him, her gut twisted in fear. Once, Ser Richard was her protector, and he would - did - die for her, but now who knew what he was capable of. Death did strange things to one's mind. She tensed up, readying for the shattering of the door, for the splinters to fly across the room as he forced his way inside.

Sure enough, there was an explosion of wood, and Alana was forced to duck her head to avoid any flying pieces. "I said stay away!" She screamed, lifting her eyes, expecting to see Ser Richard as he usually was - as he was when he died - covered in bone and broken antlers, wielding his sword as though he were planning to kill her.

Instead of Ser Richard, however, when Alana opened her eyes, she saw her father and several men entering the room. "Is everything alright?" Renly asked, his eyes wide with concern, his hand on the pommel of his sword.

It was the sight of his hand on the sword, though it was resting protectively, in case there was an attacker in her room, that set her off in tears. She had no idea how close Ser Richard was to killing her, for she did not even know if he could kill her, if it was even possible for a ghost to harm the living.

Immediately, Renly sat beside her, resting his arm around her shoulders and holding her as she sobbed, waving away the soldiers and the small crowd that had gathered at the noise. "What's wrong?"

"It..." For a moment, Alana considered telling him that she had seen Ser Richard's ghost, that she was being haunted and she was beginning to think whatever pushed her into that lake wasn't human at all. "It was nothing. A bad dream is all."

Renly didn't look convinced, with his arms crossed and a half scowl on his face. "Ser Philip," he called, casting a glance over his shoulder at one of his soldiers who was awaiting orders, his hand at the pommel of his sword as his men searched the room for an intruder. "Get rid of the crowd."

The knight nodded and made his way to the onlookers, gesturing for them to back up. "It was only a nightmare," he explained as several nobles demanded answers. "Lady Alana needs personal space more than anything else right now."

When at last the crowd had dissipated, Renly waved the rest of the men out, leaving the two of them alone, in silence save for the whistling of the wind through her partially open window.

Finally, plopping down on the bed next to her, rubbing her knee, still tucked up beneath her chin, reassuringly, he spoke, "I was told your mother used to have nightmares when she was pregnant with you." He stared out the window, watching the stars that were barely visible behind the cover of clouds.

"You were told?" Alana asked, tightening her grip around herself and glaring up at him. "Because you only knew her for one night and didn't bother to meet her after she gave me to you? Just sent her off an infant lighter and a bag of gold heavier?" It was her voice that was speaking, but it was the words that were being whispered in her ear by the unseen voice, telling her that her mother was a whore and her father only adopted her because of his desire to be nothing like Robert, fathering and abandoning children left and right.

Renly winced when he heard that, turning his gaze back to her. Alana could see the hurt in his eyes and momentarily felt bad for her words, for how easy it was to lash out at him. "I forgot that you heard that." He paused for a second, as if thinking. "You used to get nightmares when you were very young," he continued, removing his hand and placing on the bed between them. "You grew out of them, thankfully, but for a time it seemed like every night you would wake up in tears and have to sleep next to me for the rest of the night." He frowned, and sighed heavily as he thought. "And then they came back after Ser Richard's death."

Alana squeezed her eyes shut, trying to block out the memories. You couldn't save him then, and you can't save him now, the all too familiar voice rasped, as though there was someone behind her, their mouth at her ear, but she knew if she were to turn her head she'd find nothing but air.

"Do you remember Ser Richard's death?" He asked her, placing his arm on her shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. "You were so young."

Alana nodded faster than she meant to, biting her lower lip to keep it from trembling. "I remember." When she spoke, her voice was steady, though she didn't sound quite like herself.

"Was the nightmare about Ser Richard?" Renly rarely treated her like this, he always spent time with her and talked with her but whenever she wanted to talk with him about anything real he always seemed to pull away, find some excuse to take off and leave her with a serving girl.

"Yes." It was only a half lie. Ser Richard was what was bothering her, though it was not the memory of his passing that caused her distress but the man himself. Or whatever was left of him, as he was closer to a ghost than anything else.

"You know I'm always here for you?" He reminded her, his eyes dead serious, more serious than he'd ever been with her. He never took life too seriously, always worried about having fun more than anything else.

Alana nodded, not bothering to answer out loud. He didn't need her to speak to get an answer. He'll desert you, the voice whispered, as insistent as always. Like he always does when the going gets tough.

"And you know you can always talk to me if something is bothering you?"

Again, Alana nodded, looking away, at the great wall illuminated by torchlight through her window. The guards that patrolled looked like ants, standing guard, their cloaks wrapped tight around themselves to shield the northern chill.

"Do you want to talk to me about anything?"

This time Alana spoke. "No." She sounded petulant, like a little child, but she was telling the truth for once. She didn't want to talk to him about what she was going through.

Renly sighed, shaking his head. "Fine." He squeezed her shoulder just a little too hard, maybe to show he was frustrated, but then rose, slipping through the broken door that hung ajar.

"Gross," Jon wrinkled his nose and looked away, his steps quickening in a futile attempt to escape the grinning Greyjoy heir, who was trailing behind as he recounted his night with a serving girl. The girl in question was a sweet girl named Beth with big brown eyes and a smattering of freckles across her face. She would often smile at Jon when she brought out food, a quick, shy flash of her mouth before she looked away, blushing furiously.

"I'm not finished. After that, she got up off her knees and-"

"Can we talk about something else?" Jon shot back, gritting his teeth. "Anything else?" The absolute last thing he wanted to hear about today was what Theon had done the night before, though it seemed to be all he would talk about.

For a few precious, blissful moments of silence and the peace that came with it, it seemed that Theon couldn't think of anything to talk about other than Beth's presence in his bed last night. Jon had finally let himself relax when he spoke up again, "Did you hear what happened with Lady Baratheon?"

Ordinarily, Jon was above gossiping like fishwives. However, anything was better than Theon talking about his latest conquest. "Which one? The Queen, Lord Stannis' wife, or Alana?"

"Lady Alana. There was a commotion last night. She was screaming bloody murder. The guards had to kick down the door to her room..." Theon trailed off his sentence, as if it was his goal to make Jon even more frustrated than he already was.

"And?" He asked, putting his hands on his hips and frowning.

"And the room was empty." He wiggle his fingers the way he would if he were telling a ghost story. "She was sitting alone." Theon shrugged his shoulders. "It's possible she was just having a nightmare, like she said."

Jon frowned, his lips twisting in thought. "You say that like there's another option. Do you think she was making it up for attention?"

Theon laughed, though it sounded hollow and mocking, as it often did. "I'm saying maybe she's as mad as King Aerys. She came close to death not too long ago. Robb came to me afterwards. He told me that there were no footprints, nobody else in the entire forest. She fell in herself."

Jon found his mind drifting to one of his interactions with Lady Alana, before he escorted her to the feast (he'd had to convince Robb he was only being a gentleman, that he'd had no intentions to win her love . And he didn't. Didn't he?), just after he saved her life. He'd followed her because she was acting strangely, wandering off down alleyways alone and mumbling to herself. He never told anyone what he heard her say (and he never would, not after she treated him like he was human for once, after she understood him better than his own siblings), but thinking back on it, he wouldn't be surprised if she was as mad as Theon seemed to think.

"She's not mad," Jon responded, rolling his eyes as though it were obvious.

Theon frowned, as if the very idea that he was wrong was unfathomable. "Then how do you explain it? Maybe a ghost pushed her into the lake and tried to drown her?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Jon was nothing if not a skeptic, and he didn't believe in things like ghosts. Those were just tales told to children to scare them into doing their chores. "Maybe she just fell in herself. Maybe she just had a nightmare."

"Normal nightmares don't make people scream for help for nearly ten minutes," Theon shot back.

"We'll just have to wait and see, then," Jon decided, pushing past Theon and making his way towards the armory. "We'll see if she does anything else worth worrying about."

At last, Theon seemed to agree with him, frowning and nodding his head slowly. "I tell you one thing, I was jealous of Robb when I first saw the girl. I'd give anything to share her bed for a night. Now, I think I pity him."

"Why is that?"

"Can you imagine her raising your children? Having a family with a girl that mad?" Theon shook his head as if to clear the thought from his mind. "The poor bastard."

Jon could picture raising children with Alana, but he didn't say anything to Theon. It wasn't his place to feel anything but friendship for her, and he could never do that to Robb, he could never steal his future wife away from him, especially not after Robb told him of his budding feelings for her.

I've been considering having Jon develop feelings for Alana. What do you guys think?