Today The Royal Penance was finally going to be performed. Or, to be exact, it was The Royal Penance, according to the Sunflowers and the Ladies Fair, The Brave Queen in the Little Dragons' version, and The Blessing of a Marriage in the interpretation of the Seven Rays.

"Can I watch them with you?" Aemon asked in the morning.

"Certainly, if you want to," said Alysanne. "But there are going to be four plays with more or less the same plot, give or take. You might get bored."

"But when I grow up, I'll have to do many boring things," Aemon said with a resigned expression, and she smiled proudly. It looked like now, already, her eldest son had begun to realize what it meant to be king.

"I'll go to the plays too," Baelon piped in. The boy idolized his elder brother and tried to follow in his footsteps, literally.

"All right," Alysanne said doubtfully. "Make sure you behave yourself and don't make any noise."

"Yes, Mommy!" Baelon sounded honest now, but no four-year-old child would be able to sit through four plays he couldn't yet understand, in rapid succession. Either he would give up after one or two performances, or they would have to find something to keep him busy.

"I'll bring the ink and graphite and the tablets," Alarra said, obviously thinking along the same lines. Baelon loved to draw on wooden tablets (and constantly begged Grand Maester Elysar to let him try the colored paints the maesters used for illuminating manuscripts), and the drawing would hopefully keep him occupied and quiet if he gets bored midway through a play.

The Little Dragons (Alysanne put them as the first in line, proud as they were) asked for their leave to perform in the garden rather than indoors, so Alysanne had several chairs brought to one of the gardens' largest meadows to give them plenty of space for the spectacle they were no doubt planning.

As she approached the meadow, she heard two voices arguing there.

"...the lead part!" someone was saying shrilly.

"Idiot! You actually thought that?" this voice Alysanne recognized: it was Hugh, speaking in a hushed whisper. "You can't perform to save your life!"

"But I've learned the words and..."

"Shut up! They're almost here already!"

When Alysanne and Alaric went out of the grove and into the meadow, there was only Hugh standing there. He bowed deeply at once, and Alysanne felt guilty for her unintentional eavesdropping. She did think that whoever that hopeful actress was, Hugh was too hard on her – but, on the other hand, the old playwright was probably beside himself with anxiety on the day of the first performance, and no matter how hopeful and even how talented the woman was, it was rather foolish of her to think he would change the leading part's performer several minutes before the play was to begin.

Fireworks flashed from behind the stage as the show began. The Little Dragons were justly praised for their skills with machinery and stage tricks, Alysanne could see that now. The mages of Asshai waved their flaming staffs, the king had red liquid gushing from his wounds when he fell in battle, the Seven appeared in rays of multicolored light, and the queen was carried from the mountain to her throne on a fluffy white cloud. The sets were changed so quickly and skillfully it almost seemed the characters really did move from one place to another.

Even Alaric conceded:

"They've put their coin to good use. The people will be dazzled."

Aemon and Baelon clapped wildly, but Alarra, for once, seemed more restrained. But that didn't surprise Alysanne – the girl had watched the Sunflowers since their arrival at the Keep; no wonder she believed their version of the play to be superior.

For Alarra's sake was why Alysanne had asked the Sunflowers to perform next – after all, if they had to wait until the very end, Alarra would by that point be too tired to appreciate them, and it would be sorely disappointing both for them and for her, after all the support she gave them during the rehearsals.

Despite being almost twice Alysanne's age, Myribeth made a convincing young queen in her makeup and with her youthful, strong voice, but Alysanne couldn't help but think the woman was somewhat on edge, often snapping her lines rather than saying them. It would be normal for an inexperienced mummer, but Myribeth told her she had been traveling with the Sunflowers for more than two decades.

However, as the play went on, Myribeth seemed to have settled in her part and performed beautifully.

"Please, Your Holiness! What would become of my darling children?" the queen onstage cried, falling to her knees before the elderly and intimidating-looking High Septon. Her trembling voice even brought Alysanne to tears.

"They'll take to the road," the High Septon said icily, "with the begging brothers!" he gestured towards a sole mummer in a begging brother's hooded robe, standing like a dark shadow in the corner of the stage.

With a scream, the queen fell on the ground, and a drum roll signalled the end of the act.

Myribeth wiped her forehead. Her hands, she noticed, were also so sweaty the skin glistened.

"She still hasn't turned up?" she whispered.

"No," Melara said, painting wrinkles on her cheeks – she was to play the Crone in the second act. "She's not around here, and I've looked in our room – she hasn't been there today either."

"Damn and blast it," Myribeth groaned. "Can Garnet play the part?"

Melara shook her head:

"The Maiden's dress is small, but not that small. Garnet won't have time to change anyway," at eleven years old and slim, Garnet was for now still able to play boys, and she portrayed the queen's son.

"Neither will I," Myribeth murmured. Had it been a simple street performance, she would have spat at the costume change, thrown some pretty cloak over the queen's dress and played the Maiden in the queen's makeup. But here, at the Red Keep, such things wouldn't fly, especially since the play dealt with sacred matters. Queen Alysanne could even demand the return of the money she had paid them in these three months.

"I can play the Maiden, and we'll put Brennan in the Mother's garb," Obella offered.

"Don't be daft! He won't have time to learn the words, and his voice's too deep," true, Brennan had saved their shows a couple of times in the past whenever one of the women was late or got suddenly sick, but his voice broke a few months ago, and now only a deaf audience would mistake him for a girl.

Suddenly, Myribeth heard footsteps and the rustling of a dress behind her. She turned around, hoping to finally see Ellara, but it turned out to be Lady Stark.

"Has something happened?" Lady Stark asked worriedly. "I saw Melara running around, and I noticed there was only one begging brother in the last scene. There were two at the rehearsals."

"Please forgive us, my lady," said Melara. "My sister has gone missing, and we have no idea where she is."

"But we should search for her, she could be in some troub..." Lady Stark stopped. Most likely, it occurred to her how ridiculous it was, to think that a girl under the King's official protection could be in any trouble in the Red Keep.

"She's probably just dozed off somewhere," Myribeth said. "And she is to play the Maiden, so... But we'll find a way, my lady. We are fixing it right now."

"But, Mistress Myribeth, how can it be fixed? Melara plays the Crone and Obella the Mother, and you or Garnet can't change your own dresses so quickly."

Myribeth bit back a new string of curses. Lady Stark had obviously been paying attention at the rehearsals and had now perfectly summed up their troubles, even though she had only come over the meadow to them just now.

"Please, my lady, give us one more chance," she begged. "Melara will go and look for her sister again, and we..."

"Mistress Myribeth, the Red Keep's enormous, and if Ellara's somewhere far away, you won't find her in a week. And we still have two more troupes to watch today, so we don't really have much time... You know what? I will play the Maiden."

For the first time in Myribeth's life, her jaw dropped offstage.

"You... but... my lady! It's... it's not proper for... and the people would protest..."

"It's only my family out there, and it will only be for this one time."

"But you don't know the words, my lady."

"I do, in fact. I've been at almost every one of your rehearsals, so I've learned them well enough."

Myribeth swallowed. Oh well, we're getting kicked out of the Keep either way.

"My lady, I would only ask you to get Her Grace's permission, please…"

"I will! Wait just a few moments!" and Lady Stark dashed towards the seats again.

"Am I the only one hoping it would all turn out a bad dream?" Melara squeaked.

"Far from that," Myribeth said gloomily. After a scandal of these proportions, the Sunflowers would become the laughingstock of Westeros. A mummer fails to show up at a performance put on for the king's family! Other troupes would write plays about this. The Silly Sailors would definitely have the time of the lives with such a play.

"One of the Sunflowers' girls is missing," Alarra said without preamble as she returned to her seat. "Nobody's been able to find her. I was wondering if I could fill in for her, just for today."

"If you what?" Alaric stared at her.

"Alarra! It's not suitable for a lady of your standing!" Alysanne exclaimed.

"But why not? When the boys played the children of the forest, you even gave them a frock of yours to make it more lifelike! What's the difference?"

"Because you are going to be acting not by yourself, but with a troupe of mummers, who'll later spread rumors about it."

"And what will they say, apart from praising my daughter's gracious help?" Alaric interrupted. He wasn't that keen on mummery either, but now that they had already allowed the Sunflowers to stage the play, letting it fail would make all the preparations a waste of money and the whole experience an enormous disappointment both to the mummers and to Alarra. "When you visited a brothel in Mole's Town, you won the hearts of the common-born women across the Kingdoms."

"Yes, but I talked to the girls and didn't – well – participate in their work. Alarra, darling, I'm not disapproving of your idea just for the sake of it: I'm thinking of your own future prospects. If word ever gets around that you took part in a mummers' show…"

"Your Grace," Alaric gave a start when he heard Jonquil Darke speak out – the woman rarely did, "forgive my interruption, but I am the only one not of your family to attend this show, and my lips are sealed. And if the mummers try to badmouth Lady Stark in any way, it will be their word against ours."

Alarra shot the Scarlet Shadow a grateful look.

"I'm sure they won't badmouth me, by the way," she said. "They are truly nice."

"Except, obviously, for the girl who decided to skip the show," Alaric said.

"Maybe she's just sick!"

"And neither she nor any maester sent an apology about that."

"Well, maybe…" but Alarra clearly had nothing to say to it, so instead she asked:

"Alysanne, so would you allow me to perform? Please?"

"All right," Alysanne said after pausing to think. "But just this one time, remember! I don't want to hear about you taking part in the shows at Rosby!"

As Alarra, beaming, hurried to the wooden stage temporarily put up on the meadow, Alysanne turned to Alaric with worry in her eyes:

"Now we'll have to make the Sunflowers stay in the capital somehow. If they are in our pay, they won't dare spread any insulting rumors."

Being a part of the play was an even bigger thrill than watching the rehearsals. The Maiden's dress, made of periwinkle-blue cotton, felt strange over her own much heavier courtly clothes. Alarra thought she would get a wig too, but instead Myribeth told her to loosen her hair and then combed it carefully so that it flowed in elegant waves over her shoulders.

"Now, I won't dare put any stage makeup on you, my lady," Myribeth said. She still looked shocked: apparently, she wasn't expecting Alarra's family to let her perform. "The Maiden's supposed to be light and fragile, so there's nothing wrong with being paler than everyone else… Speak loudly, but without shouting. Don't correct yourself if you make a mistake."

"I'll stand with my back to the audience, my lady, so I'll whisper the words to you if you forget them," said Garris.

"Thank you," Alarra smiled weakly. Now that she really was going to be onstage in a few minutes, she suddenly felt dreadfully nervous.

The music played again (it was amazing how quickly the mummers dashed to the two lutes, horn and drum the instant they left the stage, so the melody rarely paused). Myribeth limped onto the stage, speaking how she missed her children and grieved for her husband and how exhausted she was from climbing the mountain. Garris played a mournful tune on the lute.

Then Myribeth returned, and Melara wrapped herself once again in a begging brother's robe that fully covered her Crone costume. She and Garnet walked onstage, with Garnet carrying two puppets that were meant to be the prince's younger siblings.

"I haven't eaten in days – if we are given any food, I hand them to my brother and sister, for they need it more than I do!" Garnet wailed and went on a bit more about how her feet ached and her hands were calloused, but worst of all was her heartache for her poor mother.

Putting down the lute, Garris majestically strode out to meet them.

"Please, Your Holiness, can my dear little brother and sister have some rest? We have been on the road for so long!"

"It's strange," Garris said slowly (Alarra knew he turned to the audience). "They have been walking for days, but look as healthy as they did in the palace!"

Brendan beat the drum vigorously. Melara hurriedly tiptoed backstage, threw off the robe and grabbed the lantern that she had previously lit.

Ulmar, a bearded Valeman who played the Father, walked onstage importantly in his purple mantle. Obella followed him in a bright green dress, with a benign smile on her face.

It's my turn! Alarra thought, cold sweat washing over her.

She went onstage after Obella, imagining herself at a ball – the light and graceful step she used now was always required at the court festivities.

The Seven's appearance wasn't accompanied by fireworks and flying machines like in the Little Dragons' version, but Alysanne had already noticed that without all the flashy spectacle, the mummers themselves were much more committed to their parts than the ones from the Dragons' troupe. She was particularly impressed by the Mother – with the tender smile, the soothing voice and at the same time the firm, reassuring manner, the mummer nigh-embodied the descriptions from The Seven-Pointed Star. Alysanne wondered why she couldn't play the main part – she was clearly younger than Myribeth. Was it because she was a dark-skinned Dornishwoman? But Alysanne never insisted that her counterpart had to be played by someone who resembled her in looks.

Alarra was, of course, rather nervous despite her own insistence on taking the part, but, to Alysanne's surprise, she did know the words perfectly (though she near-yelled them with quite unnecessary zeal, especially compared to the Mother's melodious speech that preceded hers).

"The love between the king and queen was never sinful!" Alarra shouted. "Their desire for each other was sated within the bounds of a marriage that they believed to be lawful! It is none of their fault that they and their septon were misled by erroneous teachings!"

After the Seven, each of them speaking a few lines in defense of the queen, left the stage, Alaric clapped, clearly meaning to cheer up Alarra, and Alysanne joined him. Aemon and Baelon soon started clapping too.

"Can I play someone like Alarra did, Mommy?" Aemon asked happily.

"You see, she only played the Maiden because the mummer couldn't do it today and because the part fit her," Alysanne explained carefully. "There are no mummers your age, so, sadly, even if someone else misses their play, you won't be able to fill in."

Aemon frowned:

"But I can be the king at my age, so why can't I play with the mummers?"

"That's what our duty's like, darling," Alysanne said apologetically. Thankfully, Aemon soon got distracted by Baelon showing him his drawings.

As the queen was reunited with her son onstage and the drums rolled triumphantly, she applauded once more. She could see why Alarra was so partial to the Sunflowers. Now, if she could only convince Myribeth to stay in the capital and make sure the Little Dragons wouldn't be offended...

When Septon Wyldon wrapped up the Seven Rays' puppet show, Alysanne barely stifled a sigh of relief. It had been an exhausting day – poor Baelon had grown tired by the end of the Sunflowers' performance, and Aemon likewise dozed off several times during the two remaining shows, but even Alysanne and Alaric themselves felt drowsy now.

She was glad to see that despite the similar plot, the plays were very different. While the Little Dragons went for the dazzling machinery and the Sunflowers for the drama, the Ladies Fair had their splendid music and voices as the pinnacle of their work, and the Seven Rays had simplified and shortened the story enough for even small children to enjoy it (well, not Aemon and Baelon, but they were exhausted today by that point).

"All four of them can perform the play," Alysanne said as they walked through the garden to the Keep. They were so tired they decided to take the more secluded path generally only used by the the servants, but shorter than the grand road they usually walked. "If the Sunflowers agree to stay here, then..."

She paused. There was... no mistake there... there was sniffling coming from one of the bushes.

Alarra, who was closest to the edge of the bush, was the first one to spread the branches. There was a figure curled up in the bushes – at first Alysanne thought it was a brother of the Faith, until the figure moved and red hair tumbled down its shoulders.

"Ellara!" Alarra exclaimed and turned to Alaric and Alysanne:

"She was supposed to play the Maiden!"

Ellara uncurled herself, stood up and gasped:

"Your Graces! Lord Stark! Lady Stark!"

She sank into a deep bow, but Alysanne immediately saw her face was red with tears. What was more, her voice sounded familiar to her, and not because of the voice of her sister's – Melara spoke in much higher tones.

"I beg your forgiveness," Ellara murmured, "it's all my fault..."

Then Alysanne realized where she had heard her before. This morning, she was the actress talking to Hugh from the Little Dragons.