"Your Grace, my lord, may I be allowed to go to the Gates of the Moon?" Lord Rodrik Arryn asked. He had requested a formal audience rather than simply asking to talk to her after a small council meeting – a sign that the matter was truly important to him personally.
"What is the matter, Lord Arryn?" Alysanne wasn't too happy to hear it. Young as he was, Rodrik Arryn was still lord justiciar, and now that the new law has been finished and properly issued, his help was needed with its distribution across the lands and with overseeing of whether it was obeyed.
"My lady wife's confinement is due soon, and our household will be moving to the Eyrie any day now. I need to be by her side."
"I would advise you to put off the climb until Lady Aratha has safely delivered her child," Alysanne told him with a small, bitter sigh. Despite the losses of the past winter, the memory of her little Aegon was still acutely painful too, his pale face, the thin fingers attempting to clutch at hers, and the sad, uncomprehending violet eyes – the baby couldn't understand why he felt so weak and could barely feed, – forever ingrained in her mind. Even though the Arryns had been moving back and forth between their two castles for many years, the Vale was an unpredictable place – anything could happen on the treacherous mountain paths.
"Thank you, Your Grace. I got a raven from Lady Aratha only this morning, so, if I may, I would like to start packing my things right now."
"Yes, of course."
As Lord Arryn left, Alaric commented:
"That's the trouble with young warden lords holding council seats. I wonder how long it will be until the Tyrells decide they want to go home too."
"At least the Tyrells are both in the capital, so Lady Florence's confinement, should one occur, won't force anyone to move."
"Still, Highgarden is in the meantime managed by the Fossoways."
"Garth Fossoway's doing a good job of it, as you well recall," Alysanne pointed out. "If Lady Florence has no complaints against their steward, neither must we, and they may let him stay in Highgarden for a good deal longer."
It was, she realized, Alaric's own view once again. He just couldn't accept the idea of leaving one's castle in the hands of another family. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell. She briefly realized that, hadn't it been for his sons and grandsons, he most likely wouldn't have agreed to move to King's Landing – not even for her sake.
"If Lord Arryn feels he is overburdened with duties, of course we'll release him from the small council," she said. "But so far he has managed admirably."
"A youth of seven-and-ten, with a fifteen-year-old wife to rule over the Vale in his absence? Rodrik Arryn is a very good councilor, I can attest to that, but I don't think he'll be able to juggle that and the Vale and his family for much longer."
"I can't relieve him of his position just like that, Alaric. He'll take offense at that."
"Don't the Valemen take offense at barely seeing their liege lord?" Alaric raised an eyebrow.
"I don't think so. There have been no reports of any disquiet. As for Lady Arryn, when I was her age I was already queen of the entire realm."
"And, despite all the precautions you and Jaehaerys took, you almost died in that exact year!" Alaric exclaimed. "Meanwhile, unlike your royal husband, Lord Arryn isn't even overseeing the goings-on in the Vale – because he is here most of the time."
It felt strange – though pleasantly strange – to hear Alaric praise Jaehaerys for anything. However, for all that she could see his arguments were valid, she couldn't agree with him implying Lord Arryn shouldn't be on the council.
"Like I told you, there's not much I can do about it now," she said regretfully. "Unless Lord Rodrik makes some grievous error in either of his capacities or decides by himself that he wishes to resign, things will have to stay as they are."
"Well, let's at least include the Vale in your next year's progress," Alaric conceded. "We'd see firsthand how content the Valemen are."
"Now that's an excellent thought. We'll stop there on our way to the North."
"But in the future," said Alaric, "I really think we should refrain from appointing people in Lord Arryn's situation to council seats. It's the same as what you said about Alarra: Lord Rodrik may be eager to work at the small council now, but in ten years, with perhaps several more children by Lady Aratha, he would be much less so."
Alysanne thought back on how exactly Lord Rodrik was appointed. It was the first year of the Shivers, with an air of dread and uncertainty pressing down on the court. Jaehaerys's choice was made more out of desperation than of for any other reason.
If he isn't too capable, he said, we'll find a replacement once the more joyful times are back.
"The more joyful times" were back now all right, but dearest Jaehaerys wasn't around to witness it anymore. And with the current king in his seventh year, Alysanne definitely couldn't risk offending a high lord and Warden of the East, especially over a relatively trifling matter.
"I'll ask Lord Arryn to choose who would preside over the laws in his stead until he returns," she said. "He shouldn't even think we are trying to replace him."
To her surprise, though, when she summoned Lord Arryn later that day, he replied:
"If it pleases Your Grace, I would leave that choice to you. I feel I have no right to judge the other lords, most of whom are older and wiser than myself."
Alaric threw Alysanne a pointed look. After the months she had spent by his side, she had learned to decipher his subtle expressions, and she knew right away that in his opinion, now was the perfect time to offer Lord Arryn to retire from the small council altogether.
But she couldn't take that risk, which she conveyed to Alaric by an ever so slight shake of the head. Whether Lord Arryn was being honest or trying to impress her with his trust in her judgment, he still would be hardly glad to be dismissed.
"Your small council seat will wait for you," she said. "We, the rest of the council, shall divide the everyday duties of a justiciar between ourselves, and if anything urgent requires your attention, we'll send you a raven."
Lord Rodrik's face brightened considerably, but Alaric, she could see, wasn't pleased. When they were alone again, he said:
"The rest of the council might get angry that they have new duties to attend to."
"I wasn't talking about the entire rest of the council, of course," Alysanne explained. "Only about myself and Septon Barth, since we are working on laws anyway."
"Have you forgotten about me?"
"I thought you, too, were just now talking about the entire rest of the council, including yourself."
"I'm not truly on the council, remember. More like doing odd jobs for it. Besides, I'm already sort of counterbalancing Lady Tyrell's opinions of coin, so I assure you I don't mind thinking a bit more about laws as well."
His eyes shone with devotion and what she now knew to be love. Alysanne's heart ached – herself still unsure of her feelings for him, she was ashamed she was basically exploiting his attachment to her. The proud Lord of Winterfell, accustomed to ruling the largest region of the Seven Kingdoms – now "doing odd jobs" for the small council!
On an impulse, she threw her arms around him:
"Alaric, oh, please believe me, you are not a man for 'odd jobs'. You are absolutely indispensable, to our family and to the realm," she didn't risk saying "to me" for fear he would read more into it than she intended.
"Don't worry, darling. I knew what my life would be in King's Landing, and I don't regret my choice to wed you and follow you here for a single moment. Thanks to you, I already wield a lot more power than would be expected of someone with no actual position at court."
"I don't want to treat you like Rhaena did her husband."
"What about him?" Alaric asked, and she belatedly realized he could have hardly known all the details of the poisoning spree at Dragonstone.
As she explained as much as she could, he frowned:
"I'm not like Androw Farman."
"No, no, I'm not implying you are! But for all that I love my sister, I can see that the fault for the way he turned out doesn't lie solely with him."
"No, Alysanne," Alaric said firmly, looking her straight in the eye. "Many people suffered much more than him and yet never turned murderous. To shun his wife or separate himself from her would have been one thing, but to kill her innocent servants is quite another."
A long, heavy, uncomfortable silence followed his words.
"I didn't mean to compare you to a murderer," Alysanne finally said. "Please forgive me. I only meant to compare myself to a neglectful and disdainful wife."
"Which is entirely wrong. You are neither," Alaric said. The clipped phrases showed he was still hurt, but as he continued his voice lost most of its metallic edge. "If I am in any way displeased with my standing at court, I will speak to you about it at once and not wallow in my resentment. Remember, we have realized, many times over, that we need to be honest with each other."
She nodded wordlessly, taking his hand and leaning her head against his shoulder. He didn't move away, and a few seconds later she felt his lips gently kiss her forehead.
Suddenly, she felt a slight but discernible twitch inside her. A very familiar twitch, one not directly caused by any feelings or emotions or impulses of her own.
"What's the matter?" Alaric asked, noticing the slight jerk she gave.
The twitch came again. A wide smile grew on her lips, the quarrel forgotten:
"The baby. It's our baby. I just felt it move."
Her current pregnancy was progressing smoothly, the smoothest one since the time she carried Daenerys – something for which she daily gave thanks to the Seven. In the first couple of months after discovery, she sometimes lost her meals, but not too frequently, and the most noticeable signs were the swelling of the breasts, a sharpened sense of smell, and her increased fondness for everything containing honey and sugar, especially honeyed fruit. But in a weird sense she missed the more prominent symptoms such as the violent bouts of sickness that plagued almost the entirety of her pregnancy with Baelon – with them, she had been reminded of her condition all the time.
Now, however, the child was finally large enough for its presence to be truly felt.
Clearly touched, Alaric softly caressed her belly.
"You won't sense anything yet," she warned him with a small laugh.
"Oh, I know. Believe me, I've tried. I'm just happy the little one is doing fine."
"Have you thought up any names already?" Alysanne asked.
"I haven't pondered too much over the matter, at least not yet, but I've always liked the names beginning with Creg. Cregan, or Cregmar, or Cregard. In the Old Tongue, creg meant firm, steadfast, ofttimes invincible."
The harsh, gravel-like sounds of the language of the First Men sounded so different from the soft, musical High Valyrian. But the blood of the First Men would flow in the child's veins, and Alysanne was determined to honor that fact, so she agreed:
"Something like that would be a good choice. And for a girl?"
"We don't have many names starting with Creg for ladies... although I vaguely remember reading something about a wildling girl known as Cregara... so probably we can pick one of the traditional names, like Lynara or Lyanna."
"And how does ly translate from the Old Tongue?"
"Names with ly are so old one can't even be sure," Alaric admitted. "But some of the maesters whose books I've read believe that it is the ancient form of life."
"A wonderful word for names," Alysanne mused quietly. She felt the slight movement in her belly again.
The strain caused by her thoughtless reference to Androw Farman gradually dissipated. As she rose to go to her planned women's court, Alaric smiled at her and gave her hand a squeeze and a kiss.
At the women's court, she happily shared her news of the baby's movement with the attending ladies. It wasn't just a desire to share her joy with other women, many of whom were mothers too and could relate to her – the public needed to know that the pregnancy was going well and their queen was healthy.
"Congratulations, sweet niece," said Elinor Costayne, a rare but always welcome guest at the women's courts. Alysanne never forgot that she was one of the Seven Speakers who helped bring stability to her and Jaehaerys's early reign.
Only eight years older than Alysanne, Lady Costayne (technically Dowager Queen, but she detested that title) looked much more aged. Her hair, though still retaining their reddish-gold color, lost any lustre they might have had, and her face was creased with wrinkles. She had never worn rich clothes since she went on her journey with the Speakers, now only arriving to the court in roughspun dresses and cloaks. Although her rigid black-and-white view of the world often made other guests somewhat uncomfortable, she was a kind woman who worked tirelessly at the septs of King's Landing and nursed many poor patients back to health. In addition – and this was something that touched Alysanne's heart especially – she insisted on calling Alysanne her niece, even though they were only related via Lady Costayne's dreadful marriage to Maegor.
It turned out that this time, she didn't come to the Red Keep randomly or merely to inquire about the pregnancy.
"I wish to ask your permission to go away from the capital, dear niece," she said when it was her turn to bring her troubles and questions before Alysanne. "There is a motherhouse in Lannisport that will admit me: I have already written them a letter."
"Are you sure, Aunt Elinor? If you want to take vows, you can do it in King's Landing just as well."
"Forgive me, but I have too many painful memories tied to this city," said Lady Costayne. "I've only stayed long enough as it is because Alester didn't want to leave," Alester was her youngest son. "But now my lord father has arranged for him to squire for Lord Bulwer at Blackcrown, and he agreed to that."
"As you wish, then, Aunt. But, if it's not a secret... why Lannisport?"
"When I lived with Theo, I loved the seashore more than anything in the Bolling lands," Lady Costayne confessed. "I don't want to go there again... my oldest son barely remembers me, and he's newly married, I will just be a burden to him... I would prefer some place where nobody really knows me. Where I can start anew."
"Er... Aunt Elinor, are you certain about taking vows?" Alysanne asked carefully. "You are only three-and-thirty, and you are famous for your good heart and courage. Could you maybe feel inclined to make a new marriage? We will find you the gentlest husband in all of Westeros. You can still have children."
"Thank you, dear niece, but no," Lady Costayne shook her head. "Don't fear, you haven't offended me... I have considered it, and there have been suitors, too. But I now find that not even the kindest of men warms my heart as much as the Faith does. Besides, as the Braavosi are wont to say, all men must die. The Faith, however, lives on. If you ever have need of me, or if any of your children wishes to take vows too, I will always be happy to offer help."
"Then, of course, I will not be preventing you from going."
Alysanne felt a tinge of sadness when the women's court dispersed and Elinor Costayne went to leave the Keep for the last time. Once again, she was reminded of how quickly time passed and things changed. Ever since the Seven Speakers' triumphant walk across the Kingdoms, Lady Costayne and young Alester Bolling had been a fixture in King's Landing.
When she rose to go to her chambers, the child in her belly moved a little once again, and Alysanne's heart fluttered as she stroked her stomach, hoping the baby felt the caress.
Well, she thought at that, I shouldn't forget that not all of the coming changes bring grief or misery.