"I know even less of marrying queens than I do of hosting them," Lord Alaric said dryly when Dowager Queen Alysanne came to Winterfell in person to offer her hand in marriage. "Your Grace has three children, and I have two strong sons and eight grandsons. There are no reasons for us to wed."
"People from other lands often look down on the North and believe you to be barbarians," Alysanne said quietly. After her husband and her eldest daughter died a year previously, she had been solemn and quiet most of the time. Not even the birth of another daughter, little Alyssa, had cheered her up. "My husband had always strived to unite the kingdoms our grandsire had conquered. If I'm to marry again, it will be for the sake of continuing and cementing his work."
She could see it was a tempting prospect for Alaric. The Northmen were very proud, and Alaric would of course see how his wedding to the well-loved queen would boost his own popularity.
"What about your children, Your Grace? Winterfell is hardly the place for them to grow up, if you intend for them to inherit, and I shall not move to King's Landing to wait until His Grace reaches the age of majority."
"We have dragons, my lord. It will be much easier for us to divide the time between the two places."
"Fine," said Lord Alaric. He looked like someone accepting a complicated and barely-profitable trade agreement rather than a man agreeing to wed the young and beautiful Dowager Queen. "However, my sons by my late wife Jonelle will be in line of succession to Winterfell before any children we might have together."
"Of course, my lord. We will have to have the wedding ceremony in King's Landing, but we can repeat it here according to the Northern customs, should that be your wish."
Although Alysanne had no desire for celebrations, the wedding had to be as lavish as the Crown could afford. After the devastating winter and the Shivers, people needed a spectacle and an idea of happiness. What's more, the deaths of King Jaehaerys and Princess Daenerys didn't just break the queen's heart and force little Aemon to be crowned at five without his father to tutor and guide him first: they had dealt a crushing blow to Exceptionalism. The Targaryens died just like the others, they said at the Starry Sept. They are no different from us after all. There was some talk of Alysanne joining the septas or even the silent sisters in atonement for marrying her brother, and only her diplomatic skills prevented it as she reminded the High Septon that she had three children she could not leave to fend for themselves.
Then, said the septons, it would be best for her to enter a lawful and virtuous marriage and give her children a new father.
Getting the High Septon to agree to her wedding with Lord Alaric, of course, took some more persuading on her part, as Alaric didn't keep the Seven – except purely nominally during his rare visits to the capital – but eventually, she prevailed.
"Many of you, my lords, have close ties to us or to the Velaryons," Alysanne explained her choice to the court. "I want to avoid even the slightest risk of being accused of incest again."
Moreover – though she didn't say that, of course – many lords viewed her as Jaehaerys's wife rather than her own person, and would want her to be pliant and supportive in every matter (they didn't understand that she and Jaehaerys discussed all their choices together and that he listened to her opinion just like she valued his), while others would try to pose as copycats of Jaehaerys, attempting to win her heart and later the throne.
She knew Lord Alaric belonged to neither group. He wouldn't think of her as Jaehaerys's shadow, having viewed her and her husband as two different people throughout (he had never warmed to Jaehaerys, she thought sadly). Neither would he try to gain the Iron Throne, especially not this way, not through winning her favor.
"The southern and northern wedding should both take place in King's Landing," Lord Alaric pointed out after she told him of the general plan of the ceremony. "If unity is what you want, Your Grace, we must show it. There is a godswood in the Keep, is there not?"
Alysanne was pleasantly surprised at the sudden amount of tolerance. She had suggested a northern wedding at Winterfell purely because she thought Lord Stark would not want to spend too much time at court, and she hadn't imagined her bridegroom would agree to host all the ceremonies of the marriage in King's Landing. With slightly more liveliness in her voice than before, she went through the more detailed plans of the tourney and the feasts and the songs.
Alaric Stark felt he was a very evil man. He had never been like that. Harsh, niggardly, joyless – those were words he accepted, but he would never have allowed anyone to call him outright wicked. He could not inspire much love, but he knew he had the entire North's respect and he intended it to remain that way.
He had no idea what was in store for him in the 58th year After the Conquest. When a dragon landed at Winterfell and he saw that King Jaehaerys hadn't even chosen to go in person but sent his wife instead, Alaric was determined to be as cold to her as possible, but Alysanne was equally determined to win his friendship.
Unbeknownst to herself, she had won so much more than that. She talked with him, and feasted with him, and went hunting with him, and sat in Winterfell's library for hours, and Alaric found himself feeling truly happy for the first time since Jonelle died. He had been so sure of his disdain for the Targaryens, he thought bitterly, that the completely different feelings that rose in his heart were all the more desperate and overwhelming.
He loved Alysanne, with a fierceness that astonished him. He longed to have her by his side all the time, so kind, so courageous, so lovely. When Jaehaerys finally deigned to arrive in Winterfell, Alaric was half-crazed with jealousy when he watched the affection between the royal couple. He couldn't help but be cold and angry towards the king, but Jaehaerys thought it was only because of Walton's death and didn't suspect a thing. Not that there was anything to suspect, of course: Alaric never showed his feelings and Alysanne was devoted to her husband.
Yet many a time after her departure Alaric dreamed of Jaehaerys being gone and Alysanne marrying him. Now that it had actually happened, though, he was ashamed of such thoughts. What if he had unknowingly cursed the king somehow, perhaps by uttering a careless word in his sleep? Did he possess some gift for evil sorcery that he was unaware of himself?
Alysanne had decided to marry him, true, but not even a fool would believe the choice was made out of affection. She grieved for her husband deeply, and Alaric was certain he would never become a worthy replacement in a thousand years. Jaehaerys – handsome, charming, dragonrider, beloved by lords and smallfolk alike – of course he'd stay in Alysanne's heart forever.
Nevertheless, despite all his shame and guilt, Alaric was thrilled at the thought of wedding Alysanne at last.
As he went to King's Landing for the festivities, he kept mentally repeating the rules he had set for himself. Don't tell her you love her. Don't criticize Jaehaerys but don't flatter him needlessly either, because Alysanne values honesty. Don't be overbearing with her or her children. Try to be less sharp-tongued at court: people need to approve of Alysanne's choice. Don't ever blurt out you've loved her since her progress. Agree to Targaryen names for your children with her, should they appear. Don't tell her you love her, not even in bed.
Thirteen-year-old Alarra Stark was quite shocked when she learned that Queen Alysanne was going to wed her father, and was absolutely certain he would refuse her offer. She recalled that it had required a considerable amount of tact from the queen for Alaric even to welcome her to Winterfell, and even had Alysanne promised to raise her husband to the status of a consort (thought Alarra), the Warden of the North wouldn't be tempted.
However, Alysanne returned from the North on Silverwing, bearing different tidings.
"Your lord father has agreed to the marriage," she told Alarra. "As my future daughter, I want to entrust you with helping me prepare the wedding."
Alarra was delighted. More delighted than the queen herself, she reflected later. Alysanne made all the necessary arrangements, but most of the choices of what course to pick for this time of the feast or what song to play at that moment of the procession were left to Alarra. The queen grew almost as sad as she had been just after the funerals of the king and the poor little princess.
"I mean no disrespect towards your father," she confessed one evening, crying into her pillow. "I just can't stand the thought that I'm betraying Jaehaerys. It has been little more than a year and – oh! – we had shared everything in our lives before that. And my sweet Daenerys, how can I feast and make merry when she is dead and burned?"
The idea of brother-to-sister marriage was still rather unsettling to Alarra, but even a stone would weep at observing the queen's sorrow. Preparations for a splendid wedding seemed a terrible insult in such circumstances, both to the Good Queen and to the memory of King Jaehaerys.
However, Alarra knew only too well that the sumptuous festivities were no folly of Alysanne's, so she did as much as she could to help her, and when her father finally arrived, the celebration to rival the Golden Wedding more than a decade earlier had been prepared.
Lord Alaric was, if possible, even more acerbic than usual. "This marriage is for the realm's sake, not for anyone's pleasure," he told Alarra when she tried to offer him congratulations. She barely held back tears: mayhaps she had grown unaccustomed to her father's harshness in the years she had spent at court.
"Please, Father, be kind to my queen," she begged him still. "She has suffered so greatly."
For a moment, his face softened.
"I will," he said, quite in earnest, and Alarra felt she had won at least a small victory here.
As she rose on the morning of her wedding, Alysanne tried not to remember the two times she was joined in wedlock with darling Jaehaerys. On Dragonstone, in the giddiness of secrecy, and then in King's Landing, with cheers and dances, but both times, she promised herself to him – her devoted brother, her dearest friend, and her adored lover, all in one.
Now she was to marry Lord Alaric. She knew he was a far better man than most people believed him to be, but he still held a grudge against the Targaryens after his brother's death, and there was no telling how he would behave as a husband. She had managed to get him to treat her with courtesy before, but then she had been a queen and a guest, and one's behavior to one's family could be a completely different matter.
The ceremonies were long and exhausting. Alysanne didn't remember them being quite so exhausting even at her second wedding to Jaehaerys... No, no more thinking of him! She asked Alarra to make sure her children didn't overtire themselves – after losing Daenerys, she was doubly careful about her kids' health – but Aemon, Baelon and even little Alyssa were bursting with energy all the time. Naturally, even for a boy of six like Aemon, a year was more like an eternity, and the tragedy of losing his father and sister had long faded from his memory.
Lord Alaric will be the only father they'll remember, she thought, and was torn between bitterness and relief. It broke her heart to think that Jaehaerys's own children had forgotten him, but, on the other hand, she did not wish her grief on anyone, let alone Aemon, Baelon and Alyssa.
When the cloak with a silver direwolf was put on her shoulders, Alysanne could barely hold back tears and force herself to keep smiling. This was it. In the eyes of the realm, she wasn't even permitted to mourn anymore, instead vowing to love and obey a new husband.
"Shall we maybe retire early, Alysanne?" Lord Alaric asked her quietly after they were wed again in the godswood. She almost jumped at being called her given name – that was something she had neglected to discuss with him beforehand.
"Are you so eager for the bedding?" her reply was more cutting than intended, but her headache had grown dreadful by then.
"I thought you were tired."
Alysanne was immediately ashamed.
"Thank you, truly, for your concern," she whispered back. "But you know we can't do that. We need to be present throughout the day."
Alaric had little love for tourneys (and in this case, his opinion was shared by most of the Northmen). A waste of strength and weapons and money, nothing more. Ofttimes, people got killed in these ridiculous spectacles, people who could have otherwise proven useful in actual battles.
The wedding tourney proved no exception. Though there were thankfully no casualties, Alaric soon grew bored of watching knights fight each other as if the realm depended on it but for no real reason other than pleasing the masses, most of whom knew little of swordplay anyway. (His sons Roderick and Edwyn acquitted themselves well, though, and Edwyn was only unhorsed when there were only three competitors remaining).
Ser Redwyne, a curly-haired and doe-eyed knight of the Kingsguard, was declared the victor after breaking several lances against Lord Commander Morrigen, and named Alysanne his queen of love and beauty. As a sworn brother, he had little choice, since any other lady could interpret the gesture as one of affection, and Alysanne was the only woman in the royal family save for six-month-old Princess Alyssa who had been taken to her chambers by the nurse anyway. However, Alaric could still feel a pang of irrational jealousy as he watched Alysanne smile and accept the crown. She was just as sweet with this white-cloaked youth as she was with Alaric himself, and it pained him to see the proof of how little true feeling she had for him.
Alarra was enjoying herself, he begrudgingly admitted. The years spent in the capital had made her quite used to the southron customs, it seemed. She gave her favor to a young knight of House Chelsted and cheered loudly for every victory of his, and after he was unhorsed, she looked only briefly sad before smiling and clapping once again.
At the evening feast, people kept talking about the tourney, and Alarra among the loudest of all.
"That's what keeps people happy," Alysanne commented as she observed Garon Baratheon and Septon Barth discuss the fighting in the melee.
"They must be pretty spoiled around here, then."
Alysanne glared at him, the forced smile still as if plastered on her face:
"Can't you even pretend to enjoy all this? Do you think I wanted to live through another Golden Wedding? If you loathed the idea of King's Landing so much, you could have said no when I offered you marriage!"
As if I could, Alaric thought. He was much too enticed by the sheer thought of marrying Alysanne.
"I will try, Alysanne. Forgive me."
She looked somewhat mollified by that.
The day was finally over. As she closed the bedroom door behind her and heard the crowd that had taken part in the bedding depart back towards the feast, Alysanne nearly wept in relief.
"We don't need to do anything, Alysanne," Alaric said, sitting down on the bed. "Nobody will ever know. You are no maiden."
For a second, she wanted to agree and thank him. She had avoided thinking of the coming night as much as she could: it was just so wrong to have someone other than Jaehaerys in her arms.
She had to pull herself together, though.
"Precisely, I'm no maiden," she said, "so there's no need to spare me anything: I'm well-acquainted with what goes on between men and women. I've observed many people at court, Alaric, and I know that there is a much higher chance for a good marriage if the spouses actually share a bed."
"I thought you only wanted a political match."
"I don't want to be utterly miserable in it. I've seen what it was like, for instance, when my mother and Lord Rogar quarrelled."
"Alysanne..." he began but quickly grew silent.
"And there's more to it. You and I both have had children – if our marriage goes on and I don't get pregnant, people will quickly realize we are just putting on an appearance. Remember, I need a proper wedlock with a... a man not related to me."
Looking convinced at last, he stood up:
"I wouldn't have chosen for it to happen like this."
"We both know we wouldn't have chosen for it to happen at all," she said, and his face grew impassive. Alysanne berated herself: she shouldn't have reminded him of how little choice he had in the marriage. She had pretty much pressured him into it – how could he say no when his daughter was at her court? Alysanne would never sink to the level of taking hostages, let alone hurting them, to secure a marriage, but Alaric had no way of knowing it.
She was afraid she had offended him, but he walked to her side and put his arms around her – gently and carefully, as if she was made of crystal. His lips sought hers in an equally gentle kiss, and Alysanne responded as eagerly as she could, though guilt kept stabbing at her: she felt like she was cuckolding Jaehaerys.
Jaehaerys is dead and burned, he won't be coming back, she told herself sharply, but rather than helping her snap out of it, the thought brought tears to her eyes. Alysanne shut them tight so that Alaric wouldn't see her cry, and, fortunately, he took it for a sign of pleasure, and his hands roamed her body somewhat more boldly.
It all felt wrong, terribly wrong, his coarse hands felt different from Jaehaerys's silk-like skin, and his thick beard was nothing like Jaehaerys's fluffy stubble, and his careful kisses didn't in the least resemble the passionate ones she had shared with Jaehaerys.
Perhaps I could have arranged not to rush with the wedding, Alysanne thought. Oh, Jaehaerys, dearest, please forgive me.
Thankfully, as a widower, Alaric knew what he was doing (which was another advantage to choosing him – Alysanne wouldn't have borne it to educate a green boy right now), and he was able to coax enough reaction from her body for her to be pleased.
"You are so lovely," she thought she heard him whisper, but by that time she was drifting off to sleep, and she couldn't tell if it was real or she had dreamed it.
