"The story will have a maiden and her brother of the blood of Valyria, raised by their parents with the knowledge they'll marry each other. They do marry and have several children, before the husband is killed in, say, a battle with his bitter enemies," Alysanne said.
"With the Others," Alaric suggested.
"No, better not – the audience may take it as a hint to get antagonistic towards the North. Let's make it, um, the mages of Asshai. So the husband d-dies," she still stammered at that, even though the play wouldn't openly use Jaehaerys himself as a character, "and then the wife learns that the Seven forbid incest."
"But we need to make sure she kept the Seven before that," said the High Septon. "It's quite another thing when utter infidels are converted, since many a sin gets forgiven in that case; but your brother, Your Grace, was crowned by my predecessor."
"Let's put it this way," Ser Eustace suggested. "They've had a well-meaning but rather stupid septon..."
"No!" Alysanne said firmly. "I won't have Septon Barth ridiculed!"
"All right, a well-meaning and rather clever septon who had misguided teachers," agreed Ser Eustace.
They – the same council that had sat yesterday, plus the local maester Tryllet – were once again in the audience chamber of the Hightowers, talking over Alysanne's play. Maester Tryllet was going to write down the finalized plot and give it to the Citadel to be copied, and some of the copies were to be brought to King's Landing for the playwrights residing in the crownlands.
"So," Ser Eustace continued, "the septon has been taught a distorted interpretation of the Seven-Pointed Star, and only after the hero of the play is killed, the High Septon arrives for his funeral and is horrified to know the hero's widow was his sister: that's how she and her septon learn they were mistaken."
"But then the High Septon tells them that in ignorance, they have not sinned as much, and her children inherit their lands," Alysanne finished.
"No, that's a bit flat, begging your pardon, Your Grace," said the High Septon. "There needs to be some more drama to make it properly engrossing to the audience, and a grand finale with music and fireworks and flowers."
"That's what they do when they put on plays during street celebrations," said Septa Rhaella and blushed. "Or so I've been told. Not that I'd ever want to watch one."
"The non-bawdy and non-blasphemous plays can be quite appropriate and educational, good sister," the High Septon smiled. "Septa Cayleen in particular is knowledgeable about the good performances to be found here in Oldtown. If you wanted to watch one after all, you'd know whom to turn to."
Can we please return to the matter at hand? Alaric wanted to ask but held his tongue. Here, he was a guest and second in rank to Alysanne, so his biting remarks would not win him – and, most importantly, her – any favors.
"Ahem, Unc... Your Holiness?" Lord Gyles coughed.
"Yes, do forgive me. As I said, something else has to happen before the happy ending. Let's have the High Septon denounce the heroine as a vile sinner – begging your pardon, Your Grace – and make her do a terrible penance, like climbing up the highest mountain, while telling her that her children are bastards and abominations and must join the begging brothers."
"You'd be fine with that depiction?" Alaric asked.
"Someone has to provide the conflict. But then a while later the Seven appear to the High Septon and announce that the heroine's children bear no blame for her sin and that she, having sinned unknowingly, is forgiven. Her eldest son is crowned, apotheosis, general cheer, and so on."
"I think the Seven should appear to the heroine herself," said Alysanne. "She should learn of her forgiveness and her children's innocence firsthand."
"But how, then, will she convince the High Septon to believe? If the Seven appear again, it'll be," the High Septon frowned and thought for a while, "not blasphemous, but rather, let's say, profane. Our faith doesn't mean grand miracles happening at every turn, and the Seven trust us to think for ourselves and not wait for large heavenly signs directing our every step."
"The heroine can return from the mountain as healthy and strong as she was when she went to climb it," Ser Eustace offered.
"Good idea, Ser Eustace! And her children will be just as hale and cheerful after spending all the time on the road with the begging brothers," said Alysanne. "The High Septon realizes he was in error about the children, their inheritance is restored to them, and the eldest boy is crowned with his mother as regent."
In Alaric's opinion, when summed up like that, the upcoming play sounded rather sugary and simple. But then again, even if he had only watched several mummer's shows in his entire life, he knew that a good deal depended on the actors rather than the actual plot, and the mood of the crowd was a great factor as well.
Back when Jonelle learned she was pregnant with Roderick, for instance, they were guests in White Harbor and went to watch a play at the city fair: it was about Joramun and Brandon the Breaker fighting the Night's King and consisted mostly of the actors punching and kicking each other; however, the "Joramun" and "Brandon" looked so eager to defend the terrified smallfolk cowering behind them (mostly puppets), the "giants" told jokes in the heat of the "battle", and the "Night's King", after getting stabbed, gave a long petulant speech about how the heroes cheated during the fight that made the audience – yes, even Alaric – roll with laughter.
The polished version of the plot for Alysanne's play (it was tentatively called The Royal Penance, though Ser Eustace said that the title would probably get changed by the playwrights) was written down by Maester Tryllot, and he promised to have hundreds of copies for them by the end of the fortnight.
"Hundreds?" Lord Gyles said doubtfully. "Do we even have that many mummers' troupes in the kingdoms?"
"I've never counted, but we might," said Alysanne. "And it's always better to have a good supply."
They did indeed stay in Oldtown for another fortnight. Alaric and Alysanne (Alaric most of all, since he hadn't been to the Reach before) were introduced to a whole crowd of other Hightowers, from Ser Gyles's wife Lady Jalda who had been away on the day of their arrival and to the lowest cadet branches and lines descended from bastards. Truth be told, before that Alaric hadn't grasped just how mighty, rich and numerous this family was.
Alysanne also showed him the Citadel – she had been here on her previous visit.
"Had I been a boy, people say, they would have sent me here," she smiled.
The library and archives of the Citadel were truly grand – Alaric could have spent hours perusing their books and scrolls or examining the runic stones, ancient armor and other curios, some of them (the maesters claimed) preserved since the Dawn Age. However, he found he didn't get on too well with the Citadel's residents. The maesters and especially archmaesters were terribly full of themselves, always acting as if they were the only ones who understood true knowledge and the only ones worthy of preserving it. Alaric was fine with Winterfell's Maester Androw, and Grand Maester Elysar in King's Landing wasn't bad either, but probably when too many of these people were gathered in one place, their arrogance multiplied.
"Yes, you have the dragon, we know as much, Your Grace... Dragons come and go, it is said, though," proclaimed Archmaester Goodwyn right to Alysanne's face, "but wisdom lasts forever."
"I'm sure it does," Alysanne said sweetly.
"It is likewise said that a truly wise man never claims to possess wisdom," said Alaric. Archmaester Goodwyn looked away and said he had a lesson to hurry to.
One morning Ser Eustace and Lady Amalia invited them to Ser Eustace's ship for a tour of the Whispering Sound. They took their daughter and her nurse and milk-sister along as well – although little Ermessa began squalling almost as soon as the ship left the shore, forcing one of the maidservants to take her back aboard one of the lifeboats.
"Lady Milane, though, has the seafaring in her veins," smiled Alysanne. "Takes after you, Ser Eustace."
"She definitely does," Ser Eustace said. "Just look at her, sleeping peacefully as if she's in her nursery!"
"I think she wouldn't even be scared of a dragon," said Lady Amalia.
Alysanne could see where they were going with it:
"Do you wish to send Lady Milane to court, my lady? I shall gladly admit her there, but only after she reaches the age of six. I wouldn't want to separate a baby from her family."
"Thank you, Your Grace," said Lady Amalia. "In fact, there is another matter Ser Eustace and I wanted to offer for your attention… After the rejection of Exceptionalism, neither Princess Alyssa, Lady Alarra Stark, nor Lady Jocelyn Baratheon can be viewed as potential brides for His Grace."
"Lady Milane is but five years younger than His Grace, and she is the granddaughter of Lord Hightower – will be the daughter of one when I inherit the seat," said Ser Eustace. "Our line can be traced back to the Dawn Age, and we rule the richest city of the realm. True, we are sworn to Lord Tyrell, but we are respected in the Reach just as much, if not more, than the people of Highgarden."
As for the benefits of the match, Alysanne couldn't agree more. Now that a traditional Valyrian wedding was off the table (she bitterly recalled how she and Jaehaerys planned the wedding of Daenerys and Aemon, and how she imagined her darling children side by side in the sept…), Hightower was one of the best houses to choose a future queen from. Wealth, power, ancestry, active trade, close ties to the Faith – it was practically a wish fulfillment.
However, the one thing Alysanne did not support was making a betrothal this early. Until the children were certain to be at least friendly with each other, it wouldn't do to make any promises about their future. Shewouldn't have married Alaric if he held her in the same contempt as he did Jaehaerys, or if she felt similarly revolted by him.
All of that – in a milder tone, of course, and without bringing up her own marriage – she explained to Ser Eustace and Lady Amalia.
"As soon as your sweet daughter turns six, I will be delighted to welcome her at court and make sure she spends most of her time in King Aemon's company. If the two of them get on well, we shall start discussing a betrothal."
"Milane is five whole years younger than the king," said Ser Eustace. "When she is six, he will be eleven, and I can assure you that eleven-year-old boys aren't particularly interested in the company of six-year-old girls."
"Only moments ago, Ser, you said she was but five years King Aemon's junior," Alaric remarked. "It's better not to make empty promises now than to have these promises awkwardly broken if the children grow up to become actively averse to the match."
"What I can promise, though," Alysanne said, "is to make another good match for Lady Milane, should she become a member of my court and should she find a marriage to the king contrary to her wishes."
It was plainly less than the Hightowers wanted to hear, but Alysanne didn't yield. She remembered how she herself was nearly betrothed to Orryn Baratheon utterly against her wishes, and she was determined to prevent that from happening to other highborn children.
Well... if Aemon or Baelon loves Alyssa, like Jaehaerys and I loved each other, there isn't much I can do for such pairs anymore, she thought sadly. We'll have to send the girl away from court.
She dearly hoped, though, that it wouldn't be the case. Even Septon Barth would now firmly preach incest as a grievous sin with no exceptions, and with the idea taught to them since early childhood, Aemon and Baelon wouldn't even think of a possibility of marrying Alyssa.
In the end, Eustace and Amalia Hightower agreed for their daughter to be sent to court no earlier than after her sixth nameday and accepted that her future betrothal to King Aemon was probable but by no means definite. Gazing at the sparkling waters of the Whispering Sound, Alysanne immediately began to calculate which matches could be suitable for a proud Hightower girl if the plan to wed her to Aemon fails.
"I think that it would be good for your grandsons to come to court, too, once they grow up a little," said Alysanne. "At least the eldest ones – Edric, Samwell and Jonos."
Alaric was quite surprised she remembered the names correctly – his sons got married after the fateful progress, and by a stroke of luck both matches turned out be exceedingly fertile, producing eight boys in total within three years (Grethe Cerwyn, Roderick's extremely busty and energetic wife, managed to give birth to triplets and live to tell the tale); however, it meant that Alysanne only met his grandsons once and as a squalling crowd of babies and toddlers.
"I don't think it would be good for them to leave the North so early," he said.
"You won't get far in achieving recognition among other lands with such an attitude," Alysanne frowned. "Milane Hightower will be coming to King's Landing at six, and unlike your boys, she won't have any immediate family around here."
"You're thinking of one of my grandsons as a possible alternate match for Lady Milane?" he realized.
"And why not? She should have a choice. She might discover in herself a taste for the sturdy Northmen," she smiled, and Alaric's heart skipped a beat at the way she said sturdy Northmen. Could he detect a hint of genuine admiration in her voice, or was she only speaking from Milane's possible point-of-view? "Or are you again worried about making a southron match in your family?"
"That would make me a mighty hypocrite," he said, earning a teasing glance from her. "Besides, Edwyn is likewise very happy with Roslin Blackwood," Edwyn had married his river lady at Alysanne's prompting, and so far nobody in the family or outside it had a reason to regret that marriage.
"Edwyn is likewise very happy?" Alysanne repeated. "You mean you are happy with me?"
How can I not be? he wanted to say as he realized what his words had implied. I have dreamed of you since those months of your progress.
But he remembered that only a few days ago she was crying her eyes out at the memory of her Jaehaerys. Her current playful mood didn't mean she was ready for any serious confessions and revelations.
"Why wouldn't I be?" he said instead. "We work together very well, I dare say, and Alarra adores you."
"It's just that we've been married for little more than a month, and all I've done is drag you around the continent."
"Considering that we got to know each other during one of your progresses, I knew our marriage would include something of that sort," Alaric shrugged. "I do regret being away from Winterfell for so long, but I know it's in good hands; Roderick has all the makings of a future Lord Stark."
"I promise we'll visit Winterfell no later than the next year," Alysanne said earnestly. "But, Alaric, please do tell me if anything else in our wedlock bothers you. It just seems to me that ever since I made you the offer, you've been the one making all the sacrifices and compromises."
It's strange how differently people perceive the same events. For me, leaving the North and my children was the only real sacrifice I made.
"Many would think – I'm sure many actually think – that a marriage to a much older Northern lord with a bunch of sons and grandsons is also quite the sacrifice."
"Oh, Alaric, rest assured that your age and the existence of your children were never an issue! On the contrary, after it was concluded I had to remarry, you were my first choice – because we got on well when I visited the North."
We got on far better than you suspect, at least on my side, Alaric thought, but it warmed his heart to know that he was actually chosen for more than just being the Lord of Winterfell – that without the paragon that, in Alysanne's eyes, had been Jaehaerys, Alaric was the husband she preferred to any other.
It means that, after her grief is somewhat healed, she might react kinder to a confession of my own feelings that I initially thought, he mused. He didn't know himself when exactly the idea of never telling Alysanne of his love morphed into a plan of confessing it to her once she was ready, but now he was sure he wanted her to know. To think that she felt she was the one forcing him into the arrangement, while all the time he had been torn with guilt for jumping at the opportunity to wed her like some lust-crazed ironborn raider!
After the maesters handed them the copies of The Royal Penance's plot, they could finally start their journey back to King's Landing – frankly, Alaric was more than a bit sick of the masques, balls, tours and theatricals the Hightowers entertained them with. It was nothing but an excess of flattery (by the time they left, Alysanne had agreed to take several more children of the family to court, and three of which, already grown up enough, joined their retinue immediately) combined with a desire to flaunt Oldtown's wealth (the latter, to be fair, seemed to be shared by the rest of the Reach).
They stopped at Highgarden once again, where Garth Fossoway happily informed them that his wife Lady Adelyse had successfully delivered a son, Gilbert. The mother was still recovering after the birth, Gilbert wasn't Garth's firstborn, and Garth didn't exactly have the Tyrells' leave to squander the money of Highgarden for his own purposes, so the celebration that Alaric and Alysanne attended was rather subdued, especially compared to the opulence of Oldtown. Alysanne lit candles at the Flowery Sept in thanks for the success of their mission, Alaric once again visited the godswood, and they left after only two days at the Reach's capital – with a newborn son and an enormous castle to take care of, Lord Fossoway had his hands full without having to entertain a royal retinue in addition to that.
Instead of Bitterbridge, their second stop was Grassfield Keep, a tiny holdfast surrounded by an enormous garden. Lord Cedmon Meadows, a youth of nineteen (his sire, fighting for Maegor the Cruel, was killed by the Poor Fellows), had more interest in flirting with girls than in doing any ruling of the keep or of the neighboring Grassy Vale town, and Alysanne mostly talked with his mother Margryta, discussing, in particular, the hardships of being a regent – although, of course, ruling over the miniscule domain belonging to House Meadows was nothing like ruling the entire Seven Kingdoms.
"Poor Lady Meadows must have had a hard time in her marriage," Alysanne told Alaric after they left (laden with flowers – Alysanne was even obliged to put wreaths of white roses onto Silverwing's ears, since Lady Margryta claimed she named this sort of roses Targaryen Dragon). "She is only forty-one, so I offered to help her pick a new husband – she seems rather lonely, with her son running wild... But she said no very firmly, and even at the women's court she said she wanted to remain independent."
"Maybe she's just telling the truth. Some of our Northern ladies occasionally prefer to stay unmarried without shunning the company of men altogether, probably because of the wildling blood. On Bear Island, the Mormont ladies often rule by themselves and have children without a husband, and nobody dares to brand them as bastards."
"That House Mormont sounds more interesting, the more I hear about it," Alysanne said. "The next time we go to the North, I'll certainly visit them. Who's their head now?"
"Jonaron Mormont, Jonelle's elder brother."
"Is he all right with – you know – our marriage?"
"His daughter Noryn often exchanges letters with Alarra – you can be sure he has the best impression of you," Alaric chuckled.
Having endured the impossible gaudiness of the Reach, he was amazed to find himself actually glad to see the muddy brownish blue of the Blackwater Rush and the red and brown roofs of King's Landing, as their procession approached the capital again at last.