The Smalljon's booming laugh carried through the wind, and she smiled at the sound. Alysanne peered over her shoulder to see Jon chuckling at something the Smalljon said. Jon caught her eyes and gave her a friendly wave, which she returned.
A small group of guards rode ahead, but aside from them, it was Alysanne leading the host. Wylla rode to her left, and Jorelle to her right. Were Alysanne to look over her shoulder, she knew she would find Ser Addam just behind. It was a welcome change to have her friends beside her that day. The previous day had been Ser Stevron, and the day before that Maege Mormont. Not entirely unpleasant company, she supposed.
Jorelle turned around as well. The wind whipped her dark hair into her face and she batted it away. "What's so funny, Umber?" she called back teasingly. Another gust of wind snapped Jon Umber's cloak behind him. The wind grew more biting as the days went on; a sign that winter would soon be upon them, according to Alysanne's men.
The Smalljon waved a dismissive hand. "A jape, not fit for the ears of a lady," he insisted. Wylla and Alys snickered. They doubted that anything the Smalljon said was any bawdier than what they'd heard out of Jorelle's mouth that day alone.
Jorelle scoffed. She wheeled her horse about back towards where the Smalljon rode. "Try me," she challenged. Alysanne continued to glance over her shoulder as Jorelle approached Jon Umber. She pulled her horse to a stop beside his and matched his pace. Jorelle leaned her head closer to his, his lips moving as he relayed the joke. Alys turned back to face forwards once more as Jorelle's sharp laughter rang through the air. She could just make out the Smalljon's light chuckles at Jorelle's teasing barbs.
A fine match, they would be. Jon Umber did not seem the type to mind a wife's preference for maces and mail. They got along well enough, he and Jorelle. They shared the same wretched sense of humour. Alys had watched the past few days as they worked together to get a rise out of Jon and Wylla. Or, gods help her, Harrion Karstark. A match made in the seven hells, they would be.
Jorelle rejoined them at the front of the line. Wylla eyed Jorelle slyly. "You haven't taken your eyes off each other. You've got him wrapped around your finger, and you're utterly besotted." Alysanne discretely peaked over her shoulder. Wylla was right. The Smalljon shifted his eyes back and forth between Jorelle and Jon as he talked, and Jorelle wasn't shy about returning his looks.
"I haven't a clue what you're talking about," Jorelle said, sticking her nose into the air. The slight curve of her lips betrayed her.
"Oh, spare me!" Wylla cried. Jorelle argued back, but Alysanne let it wash over her.
She spared one more look over her shoulder, back east from whence they came. The host of men stretched far behind her, curving along the River Road with the Red Fork at their sides.
It hadn't been long since they departed Stone Hedge. Alysanne had no desire to linger. She wished to be as far from her grandfather's reach as possible, if the unthinkable happened. Has Robb met him in battle yet? He must have. Raventree Hall wasn't far from Stone Hedge, and he'd departed just after she did. That was nearly a week ago. Her grandfather had been close even then.
They'd received no word of any battle. It ate at her, but Ser Addam assured her it wasn't so far out of the ordinary. Word likely awaited them at Riverrun, if there was word to be had at all. Does Robb live? Does Bran? Alysanne longed to wheel her horse about and fly into the wind, not stopping until she reached him.
One guard ahead called back to her and pointed forward. A group of men crested the next hill. Alysanne squinted to make out the banners; a white ironwood on black, and the Stark direwolf. She breathed a sigh of relief.
Gregor Forrester and the small party of men sent with him careened down the hill. They'd set off ahead of the rest of the host earlier that day to scout ahead. Lord Gregor broke off from the party of men, his son Rodrik continuing with them to join back with the rest of the line. Alysanne held up her hand in a call for a halt. The Smalljon and Jon echoed the command to the rest of the line before continuing forward to join her.
Lord Gregor slowed from a gallop as he approached, stopping his horse in front of her. "Your Grace," he greeted. Lord Gregor was a large man, and even when not on horseback Alysanne felt as though she needed to crane her neck to meet his eyes. He was as imposing as he was tall, with a shrewd military mind. Alysanne found herself thankful for northern loyalty; the Forresters were of the most loyal amongst the northern houses.
She returned his greeting. "I trust there wasn't any trouble?" The men had looked no worse for wear. Alysanne hadn't expected any trouble, but she would take no risks. Especially when half of her host still awaited them at Riverrun.
"None, Your Grace. We should reach Riverrun within the day." Alysanne smiled. Arya waited at Riverrun, along with Beth, Eddara, and Jeyne. It'd only been just over a moon since they left. But it would be sweet to see them again.
Her father would be better secured at Riverrun, as well. A thought that comforted her. They could keep a better eye on him there, better control over who visited and lurked around him. Some men weren't pleased with his presence, Wylla had relayed, though Alysanne hardly needed her to tell her so. Still, it frightened her, the thought of the harm that could come to him should the men find themselves drunk and angry.
Alys had hardly spoken to him since the night after his capture. What more could I say to him that I already haven't? She had no desire to hear more of his lies, more of his excuses. Aside from checking in on his wellbeing, she'd made no more time for him. She'd placed Maege Mormont in charge of his guard, and that was that.
The rumbling of hooves caught Alysanne's attention. Harrion Karstark, Ser Stevron, and several other riverlords headed towards her. No doubt to see why a halt was called. She waited for them to stop before relaying what Lord Gregor had told her.
"We'll keep on towards Riverrun. We should be there by nightfall," Alysanne said. Murmurs of acknowledgement worked their way through the small group. All save one.
"We shouldn't waste time in stopping at Riverrun," Harrion Karstark protested. "Have the men there meet us on the road, and send a small group to escort Lannister."
Alysanne clenched her jaw. They'd had this argument just the night before, and the night before that as well. Robb's lords never argued with him so openly. Do my grandfather's lords do so? Did my fathers? "We're to pass by Riverrun either way. It will do us no harm to stop," she stated.
Jon glanced at her sidelong. Harrion argued more. "It's a waste of time. Time we could spend marching into the Westerlands before Stafford Lannister gains ground."
Alysanne inhaled deep through her nose. Did Maege Mormont's men ever question her so? The men of Bear Island were deeply loyal. What about Alysanne Blackwood during the Dance, or Visenya and Rhaenys during the Conquest? Did their men question them at seemingly every turn? "We're only stopping for two nights, Lord Harrion. Word awaits us from the King, and we need more supplies. I've made my decision."
Jon's eyes narrowed, and the Smalljon grumbled when Harrion opened his mouth once more. "The additional men can bring supplies and any news with them." Alysanne didn't bother to hide her scowl as he continued arguing. A part of her wondered if he disagreed with her at every turn just for the sake of disagreeing.
"Enough," Ser Stevron interjected. "Queen Alysanne has spoken. It will do us no harm to stop for a night or two."
Jon cleared his throat then. "Return to your men. We shouldn't waste time." Harrion didn't hesitate to guide his horse about and return to his place in the line. The rest of the lords lingered a moment, chatting amongst themselves.
Alysanne waited until Harrion rode off to incline her head in thanks to Ser Stevron. She'd half expected Ser Stevron to be amongst the lords who grumbled at her command. To her chagrin, she'd found it to be quite the opposite. She chided herself for assuming the worst of him, for assuming him to be like his father. Not all the Frey's were so terrible, she knew. Olyvar, for one, had proved to be a loyal squire to Robb.
She called to resume the march. The command echoed down the line. Wylla and Jorelle fell into place beside her, with Wylla wasting no time before voicing her displeasure. "I don't like that man," she grumbled. "He's insufferable."
Alysanne snorted. Harrion Karstark was insufferable, but he held her tongue. "Lord Harrion is a valued banner man. I always welcome his thoughts," she sang.
Jorelle snickered, but Alysanne ignored it. Jorelle had spent much of the march flitting back and forth between riding beside Alys or with her mother. Maege Mormont and her men were not far behind, she knew. They never baulked at the orders she gave, or looked to a man standing beside her instead. Maege Mormont also has many more years than you, Alysanne reminded herself. Perhaps it wasn't fair to compare herself to a woman who'd been leading her people for longer than she'd been alive.
Alysanne strained over her shoulder to search for Maege amongst the army. She could barely make out her head of grey hair, far back in the line. It had overjoyed Jorelle to have her mother march with them, even if Dacey stayed behind as a part of Robb's battle guard.
"If you told the man that the Others were just legends, he'd insist he saw one just moments ago," Jorelle snipped.
Wylla cackled, and Alysanne struggled to keep from laughing. "Jorelle," she chided half-heartedly.
"It's because you're a woman," Wylla insisted. "If it had been Jon's suggestion, he wouldn't have questioned it. He's too big of an ego." He doesn't trust me, she silently corrected. Alysanne only gave Wylla a pointed glare. "It's true," she insisted anyway.
She wasn't the first woman to lead men to war, certainly not the first amongst her blood. Alysanne thought of Johanna Lannister, who'd once served as the Lady of Casterly Rock. She was regent for her son and head of her house for years; she remembered. Johanna Lannister was the one to bring House Lannister back to glory following the Dance. Not only had she held the Rock against the Ironborn, she'd gone so far as to don man's mail and drive them from the shores of Lannisport. She wasn't much older than I am now.
How long had it taken Johanna Lannister to win the trust of her men? Did it take her defending the Rock from the Ironborn? And what about Alysanne Blackwood? She must certainly have known how to use a bow and arrow before she led her host of archers to war. Alys doubted men questioned the command of Visenya and Rhaenys, with their dragons at their sides.
People like to forget that Visenya and Rhaenys won battles in their own right. They'd conquered Westeros just as much as Aegon. And yet it is still called Aegon's conquest, she thought derisively. Men often forget the place of women in history. Had it taken until they won battles with their dragons, for their men to truly follow them?
Alysanne felt foolish for thinking the men would follow her without question. What have I proven? Nothing. They would continue to question her, she knew. Perhaps longer than Maege's men, or Visenya, Rhaenys, and Black Aly's men did. She would be more of a liability, riding into battle, and she had no dragon. I am just a silly girl, playing at war.
She peered at Jon, riding tall behind her. Alysanne suspected the men wouldn't listen to her at all, if it weren't for him. I wouldn't listen to me. What did she know? She hadn't studied battles and wars the way he and Robb had. She'd read about them in books, pored over stories of her ancestors' greatest victories and horrific failures. But the strategy behind them? Alysanne doubted she could even begin to explain it. He should be in command, not I.
Lord Gregor's words proved true. Before long, the familiar sight of Riverrun greeted them. Alysanne increased their pace. Arya awaited her, as well as Jeyne, Beth, and Eddara. She grinned at the thought. A warm bath awaits as well. Her thighs and back ached from the long days on horseback, and she felt as though a thick layer of grime coated her skin. Dust and sweat and gods know what else. She resisted the urge to scratch at her scalp. She let the thoughts of a warm bath and soft bed carry her the rest of the way.
The walls of Riverrun hadn't changed, Tully and Stark banners still flew high overhead. Guards stood watch atop them, and Alysanne saw them signal to raise the wrought-iron gates. She did not slow as she thundered over the drawbridge, the hooves of her mount echoing loudly. Jorelle, Wylla, Ser Addam, and Jon kept pace behind her. The people gathered in the yard dropped to their knees before she'd even cleared the gate.
Her horse slewed as she yanked on the reins, vaulting from her saddle. Alysanne bid them to rise. She scanned the crowd as she did. Lord Edmure stood at the front, Lord Hoster notably absent. Her heart sank a bit. He'd been ill when they departed, and she knew Lady Catelyn hoped he'd be well soon.
Arya stood to the side of him, a bright smile on her face. She's forgone a dress, Alysanne noted fondly. At least her clothes clean and free of dirt. Eddara and Beth stood just behind her, smiling eagerly, with Jeyne just beside them. Alysanne stopped a moment and waved Ser Addam over, sending him to see to her father before continuing forwards.
As much as Alys wanted to embrace her good-sister before all else, she approached Lord Edmure. There were customs to abide by, and from the tight smile on Lord Edmure's face, he'd not yet forgiven her. It wouldn't help her to snub him so. "Riverrun is yours, Your Grace," Lord Edmure greeted. His eyes slid to a distant point over her shoulder. "It's true then. Robb captured the Kingslayer."
Alysanne watched as Marq Piper met Ser Addam and the small group surrounding her father. "Robb and I thought it safer to keep him imprisoned here." The group continued on into Riverrun, and Alysanne refocused on Edmure. "I trust you have a room prepared for him?"
He nodded. "As befits his station. It's far from the rest of the chambers."
Alysanne hummed. "And your father? How does he fare?"
His face dropped, telling Alysanne all she needed to know. "He remains ill, Your Grace."
Alysanne expressed her sympathies, and Lord Edmure dismissed himself. Arya waited not a moment longer before approaching and throwing herself into Alys' arms. Beth, Eddara, and Jeyne trailed just behind.
"Princess Arya," Alysanne teased. Arya stepped back and shoved her lightly, embracing Jon next.
Jon mussed her hair and Arya wrinkled her nose. "How was Stone Hedge? How are Robb and Bran?"
Alys let out a heavy sigh. "Robb and Bran send their love. But I suppose I should ask you that as well. Have you had any word from them?"
Eddara stepped forward then, presenting a neatly folded letter. Arya grimaced and said, "we received this just yesterday. They clashed with Lord Tywin just outside of Raventree Hall. It was our victory, but narrowly. Robb's still at Raventree Hall regrouping."
Alysanne's heart stuttered. She clutched the parchment tightly, not daring to open it. Jon placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "And Robb and Bran? Were they injured?" he asked.
Arya shook her head. "Robb is fine, as is Bran. We took heavy casualties, but Tywin took more. He's on the run."
Alysanne let out a breath. He lives. Bran lives. She handed the parchment to Jon to read before approaching Eddara, Beth, and Jeyne. She embraced them each in turn. "Is there aught else?"
"Only dinner and a warm bath," Eddara said. "For the lot of you. You smell," she teased, making a show of wrinkling her nose. Alysanne laughed. It was as if she hadn't left at all.
A warm bath filled with scented oils did indeed await her in her old chambers. Alys peeled her dress from her body and haphazardly discarded her shift on the floor. She stepped into the copper tub and sighed. The warm water eased her sore muscles, freeing the tension from her bones. She held her breath and dunked her head, letting the water wash over her. She reemerged, wiping the water from her eyes.
A fire had been lit in the hearth, further warming her room. The fire drew her eyes and her mind wandered to the dragon egg she'd left behind. A part of her had missed it, as silly as it made her feel. I should not have left it. It hadn't felt right, to leave it behind. A part of her had yearned for it, wished to feel the warmth of it beneath her fingers. You only worry someone will steal it, that's all. She trusted Arya, but what of others in Riverrun? A dragon egg was valuable, even turned to stone. And it is turned to stone. She must have been mistaken when she felt the warmth of it. The dragons are long dead.
She swept the thoughts from her mind and set to scrubbing her skin raw with the soap left for her. She took her time rinsing her hair clean, using the ivory comb to work through the snarls. Whoever prepared her bath had left a few oils for her to choose from. Lavender, lemon, rose, she lifted them all to her nose before settling on the lavender, rubbing it into her skin before rising and drying herself off. She slipped a clean shift over her head.
A servant had laid a dress out on the bed. Alysanne eyed it warily. She had no plans to take dinner outside her room that night. It would only be herself, Arya, and her ladies. There's no need to redress, it's already so late, she reasoned. She instead grabbed a dressing robe, wrapping it tightly around herself.
No sooner than she sat down did Arya and her ladies arrive. Maids followed them with platters of food. Hearty stews and warm bread made Alysanne's mouth water, and she didn't hesitate to tuck in. She hardly talked, instead shovelling food into her mouth. The food they had in camp wasn't bad, but it never seemed to sate her. Alys always found herself wanting another helping, or finding herself hungry just a few hours after she ate. Mulled wine awaited in a goblet in front of her and she took a sip.
Eddara and Beth did most of the talking, filling Alysanne in on what she'd missed. News of Robb's victory at Stone Hedge had bolstered morale, according to Eddara. Arya argued back that it hadn't needed boosting in the first place. Beth had taken to strolling the grounds with Cley Cerwyn, who'd been left behind to help defend Riverrun, much to Wylla's amusement. Jeyne remained silent for the most part, save for a question or two regarding Sansa.
The surrounding conversations echoed onwards, but Alysanne drifted out of focus. The stew and bread sat heavy in her belly, and the wine pulled her towards sleep. Her eyes grew heavy. She yawned, catching the attention of Beth.
Beth rose and rounded the table, embracing Alysanne where she sat. She pressed a soft kiss to her forehead and Alys smiled sleepily. "I think it's time we retire," Beth said.
Alysanne stood, taking a moment to steady herself. They bid her goodnight and filed out of her room. The maids cleared the table, and Alys set to pulling back the blankets on her bed.
She placed her dressing robe over the foot of her bed, making to extinguish the candles when a soft knock echoed through her room.
Arya entered before Alys could answer the door and she raised a brow. "Did you forget something?"
"I was going to give this to you tomorrow, when you were rested, but I couldn't wait any longer." Arya presented a neatly wrapped package. "It's from Robb. He commissioned it just before you left."
Alysanne smiled and gingerly took it, sitting on the edge of her bed. Arya stood just at the foot. She unwrapped it, revealing an ornately carved box. Dragons and wolves danced across the border, surrounding a neatly carved A. She opened the box and gasped, her hand fluttering over the contents.
"The blacksmith finished it while you were gone," Arya explained. "We've sent his ahead, but I thought to keep yours here for you." So this is the 'king's business' Ser Addam would not tell me. Alysanne lifted the crown from its box. An open circlet of shining bronze, decorated with small runes. Six, thin long swords decorated the length of it, blacker than night. Alysanne held it delicately, as though it were made entirely from glass rather than bronze. "Robb's is almost just like it. His is heavier, it has more swords I think. Made from iron instead of obsidian."
Alysanne ran a finger over one of the swords. Dragonglass. She huffed a laugh. It was beautiful, the way the bronze shone against the smooth, black glass. She dabbed the tip of one of the small swords with her finger and found it to be sharp. She replaced it carefully into the ornate box. Arya was nearly standing entirely on her toes, as though she were a bird ready to take flight. "What are you waiting for? Put it on!" Alysanne shook her head.
"Not now," she said. It didn't feel right to wear it without Robb. It was his gift, after all. He's the reason I have a crown at all. She changed the subject. "My dragon egg. How is it?"
"In one piece," Arya said. "Right where you left it. No one's seen it."
"Good," Alys nodded. "I'm taking it with me this time, you won't need to worry about it." It would be safer that way. She could keep a closer eye on it, she reasoned.
"I'm coming with you this time," Arya insisted, setting her shoulders back. Alysanne sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.
She'd had this fight before they left. First with Lady Catelyn, who refused to allow Arya to leave Riverrun; and then with Arya, when Alysanne upheld Lady Catelyn's decision. She is only grieving and worried for her children, Alysanne reminded herself. But it did not change the sting of her words, the burn of her cold shoulder.
Their fight before Lady Catelyn's departure to treat with Lord Renly lingered still in her mind, a heavy shadow. Alysanne still remembered every word that was said. It was after Alysanne put forth the idea to legitimise Jon and perhaps name him Hand. Lady Catelyn had swallowed her anger at Jon's decision to go south rather than north well enough, but that had been the most she could take it appeared.
"You are nothing more than a child," Lady Catelyn had seethed. "A silly girl who oversteps her place and knows far less than she thinks." Lady Catelyn had reprimanded Alys many times throughout her childhood, but this had felt different. Her words had not been laced with curses, nor were they nearly as cruel as those said by others, yet they'd followed her across the Riverlands still.
Could she really go back on her word and allow Arya to come? Arya was not helpless. She could hold her own against Bran, who'd earned his knighthood and been allowed to join Robb in battle. Arya need not even ride into battle. Alysanne could always use another sword at her back, Robb said so himself.
"Please, Arya. Let us discuss this tomorrow," Alysanne pleaded. Her feet ached, and she swayed. Her eyes felt heavy, her bones weary.
Arya grimaced. "Tomorrow," she insisted. She turned and left without another word.
With a final sigh, Alysanne extinguished the last of the candles. The room was only lit by the fire in the hearth. She slid under the clean blankets and sunk into the soft bed. It was a far cry from the narrow cot she'd been sleeping on, and she took great pleasure in taking up as much room as possible. Her eyes grew heavy once more, and she let them fall closed.
Any hopes of a restful night proved folly.
The dream plagued her again, as it had since that first night in Riverrun. Alysanne would have rather dreamed about anything else. She would have taken old dreams of the day her father sent her away to this. Sometimes she'd go days without the dream, just long enough to believe she'd been cured of it, only to have it creep up once more.
Her dream always started in the forest; the one that was not quite the north, and not quite the Riverlands. Alysanne was always welcomed by pine needles prickling at her feet and thick dread settling in her belly. Always the smoke awaited her, the rumbling of a beast behind her. The dream always remained the same, no matter what she did to avoid it.
One night, she'd refused to move. Each night before then she'd started forward after the beast rumbled, but she held her place. Or tried to at the very least. Cold hands shoved her onward, burning ones dragged her forward. The next night she'd run left instead of forward, only to find herself somehow in the Red Keep yet again. Running to the right was no different. Each path she ran to led to the same end.
It was with a resigned despair that Alysanne found herself in the forest that night. She did not run from the beast as she did the first few nights, instead carrying herself forward at her own pace. The smoke shrouded her as always, and she looked aroundexpectantly for her father to appear. Only this time, the smoke failed to reveal her father. He always appears here. Alysanne tarried only a moment,the beast at her back reminding her to continue on.
A man stepped into her path. Golden-haired and green eyed, Alys took him for her father at first glance. Her nose wrinkled. This man didn't carry himself like her father. He wore no armour, and was not nearly as muscled. A sword hung strapped to his side, but it wasn't her father's sword. She squinted. The pommel was gold, but shaped into a wolf's head. Alys scrutinised the man further. The same sharp nose as her father, the same high cheekbones… "Tommen?" she questioned.
The man opened his mouth, but only shrieks of pain echoed into the air. Alys watched in horror as his skin bubbled and blistered, cracked and smouldered. His hair singed and turned to ash as his blackened corpse crumbled to the ground. She swallowed back bile as the acrid scent of burnt flesh reached her. With a hand covering her nose and mouth, she marched on.
There was no woman in a lavender dress this time, nor was there a lioness and her cub, or a bloodied direwolf. Instead, blackened towers rose out of the smoke between the trees. They continued on past the tops of the trees, though Alysanne could not see where they stopped. The smoke was too thick, the trees too dense. She counted five in total.
Alysanne craned her neck as she drew closer to one tower, only for the stone to melt before her very eyes. Down and down the stone ran, like wax on a candle. Only instead of wax the stone turned to blood, running beneath her feet and muddying the forest floor beneath her. It wasn't the rumbling of the beast which drove her forth that time, but the panicked screams of men.
The forest and smoke drifted away revealing red stone, drawing forth a sigh of relief from Alysanne. She knew this hallway, her dream always led her here. This at least remains the same. She lifted her chin and let her feet carry her down the familiar hallway, only to find the door closed. Alys tried the handle, but it would not move. A breeze shifted her hair, and she spun.
The end of the hallway, once closed off with brick, now opened to a garden. The other end of the hallway revealed no opening from whence she came, as usual. There is only forward, she told herself, and walked into the open air. There was no smoke, or pine needles or strange dense forest; this place she knew. Alysanne had spent much of her time in the gardens of the Red Keep upon her last visit, away from prying eyes. The godswood, while not really a true godswood, had been her favourite. There was no heartree, instead there was only an ancient oak, standing tall towards the back of the godswood, overlooking the Blackwater.
The woman in the lavender dress sat beneath the large oak, the lady in yellow silks beside her. They had spread a blanket beneath them and they chattered leisurely, ignoring her presence. But this time, she could see both of their faces.
The woman's hair still shone like moonlight and her eyes glinted like amethysts. There was something familiar about the shape of her nose, the point of her chin, which Alys could not place. The woman laughed at something the lady in yellow said, a melodic twinkle which warmed Alysanne to her core. She stepped forward. "Hello," she tried.
The woman stopped laughing, her eyes sliding slowly to Alysanne. The other lady froze, a green tinge enveloping her face. The woman in lavender clutched a hand tight to her belly, her other hand pressed firmly to her chest. She gaped at Alysanne, wide eyed and pale. Green flames overtook the lady in yellow, swiftly burning her to naught but ashes. The woman in lavender didn't seem to notice.
"Only death can pay for life," the woman muttered. Her hands flew to her head, clutching at her hair in anguish and ripping strands loose. "Only death can pay for life," she shrieked. A woman wailed, a man raged in the distance, and more screams came from the Blackwater below the godswood with a flash of green.
A flash of heat burned her face, and the great oak burst into flames before her eyes. Echoing screams fed the flames, shifting between yellow and brilliant orange. Smoke rolled to the ground in a thick carpet, snaking and twisting around her feet. A sob wracked through Alysanne, a strange unfamiliar grief. She wailed and beat her fists into the earth, emptiness grasping at her chest. What is missing? The more the flames raged, the more violently she sobbed. The tree refused to turn to ash. Burn already, she wanted to scream. Let it be over! Alys could not cease her sobbing long enough to command it so.
Cracking and splintering drowned out the screams. The tree split down the middle, revealing molten wood at its centre. More cracking, like the shattering of glass, echoed from the tree before a dragon burst forth. Larger than the tree itself and blinding in its light. Alysanne shielded her eyes to better see it, but a flap of its wings sent her spiralling backwards and downwards through the air to the water below.
She sat up in her bed so fast her head spun, chest heaving with a breath she could not catch. Half of her hair had fallen from her braid, stuck to her neck with sweat. She stumbled out of bed and only just made it to the chamberpot before retching up the previous night's meal.
The dream had never left her in such a state before. At most, it'd left her panicked and gasping for air. Robb had always been there. Or Grey Wind, with Robb not far behind. Robb. She missed Robb.
A soft creak of a door revealed Arya. She slipped into her room silently, dressed in only her shift and rubbing sleep from her eyes. "Alys?" she whispered. "Ser Addam said he heard you crying. 'Came and found me." Hells. She hadn't told Ser Addam about the strange dreams. He'd only worry, and she wasn't a child any longer, running to him with every horror of the night. She'd tell Robb when they were bad enough to wake her, and promptly put them from her mind the next morning. But they're getting worse. Even Robb thinks so.
Alysanne wiped her mouth on her sleeve. "It was only a dream," she rasped. "Just a nightmare."
A nightmare, nothing more.