58 AC, nineteenth day of the second month.
The great hall of Winterfell was mostly quiet except for muttering and whispers. All of the current occupants of the room were looking upon their liege lord - Lord Alaric Stark - as well as his children, but most importantly, they were staring at Queen Alysanne Targaryen.
If Alysanne detected any tension or discomfort, her face did not express it. She used her knight to cut through a piece of ham and then ate it with a cheerful demeanor. Alaric wished to be polite towards this important and all-powerful individual, but he also wanted to deal with his guest as quickly and efficiently as possible.
"How are you enjoying your meal, Your Grace?"
Alysanne gave Lord Alaric a gentle smile. "The cooks here are excellent, Lord Alaric. I should speak with them later to express my gratitude for such a well-made breakfast. I do hope that no one was inconvenienced by my early arrival, I simply hoped to arrive at Winterfell at an early hour."
"We're simply glad you agreed to leave your dragon outside of Winterfell's walls," Alaric remarked. "I have no fear of your intentions, but a dragon is a large and dangerous creature anywhere in the world, even in the cold North."
"Tis no trouble at all, Lord Alaric. Our house may be the last of the ancient dragonlord, but my husband and I only seek to use them to protect our realm, not strike fear into the hearts of the innocent."
My uncle would have forced Lord Stark to feed Balerion enough sheep to starve the North, the queen thought to herself. Yet the Warden of the North was mainly concerned with his guest's plans for her time in Winterfell. In particular, Alaric was less than enthused for what Queen Alysanne had planned for him as her host.
"I wish to warn you ahead of time," he began, "that I will not be able to accommodate all your legions of knights and female companions. Food is hard enough to come by as it is in the North, and it would be less than appropriate to let the thousand or so joining you stay as guests. We simply cannot afford it."
"That won't be necessary, Lord Alaric. I plan to have only a hundred meet here with me at Winterfell at most. Many of them most likely had their fill of the North at White Harbor."
This surprised Alaric Stark. The queen had accepted all of his reservations so far without complaint, something that he would not expect for an entitled southron lady. Yet he still had more concerns he wished for Queen Alysanne to be made aware of.
"I want for you to know in advance, Your Grace, that if you have come here expecting balls and dances and tourneys as the nobles in the south are accustomed to, you will be greatly disappointed."
"Aye," spoke Aldrick, second son to the Warden of the North. "Brandon dances like a fish trying to walk, so that's no great loss."
His elder brother's face turned red as he punched Aldrick's arm. Alarra giggled and Aldrick chuckled, but Alaric shot a glare toward his younger son for acting in such a manner in front of the queen. But if she was bothered by the jest, Alysanne's face did not indicate it, instead smiling as she continued with her breakfast.
"Tis no trouble at all," spoke Alysanne as she washed down her bacon with some ale. "Meeting with the great House Stark is more than enough for me while I am to remain in Winterfell."
"Our house practices different hobbies than the great lords you're familiar with," Alaric warned. "My wife Brynna was a Mormont of Bear Isle, and when she was a girl of twelve, she slew a pair of wolves to make a cloak from their skin. She also gave me two strong sons and a daughter as pretty as any southron lady."
Alaric's two sons puffed their chests in pride, whilst little Alarra blushed. Alysanne looked upon the girl sitting across from her and smiled, for she was indeed a sweet and pretty little thing. Her dark brown hair fell behind her back down a blue dress, and her eyes were as sapphire blue as Alysanne's own.
"So lovely. I'm certain her mother was just as lovely to look upon."
"Aye," Lord Alaric coldly answered, "she was."
A cold was felt by all in the hall as silence filled the room, which said much given Winterfell's weather. The loss of Lady Brynna Mormont was a loss that pained House Stark three years after it happened. Alysanne realized her mistake and cleared her throat to attempt to rectify the situation.
"I apologize if I touched a delicate nerve. It was never my intent to-"
"It's alright," Alaric softly interrupted. "I heard of what your uncle did to your family, Your Grace. We've both lost the ones we love far too soon. But I thank you for your sensitivity. Now, if we can return to less depressing topics of discussion."
"Yes," the queen happily replied. "For one, I would be happy to arrange marriages for your sons. It's been more than a half-century since my grandsire brought most of Westeros together, but there is still much work to do to bring the great families of the realm together."
Brandon and Aldrick Stark looked surprised, not expecting to discuss their marriage prospects when speaking with the queen. Alaric, on the other hand, merely scoffed. "Let me make this clear to you, my Queen. I will not see my sons wed to any southron girl inside a sept. The old gods have kept my family safe for thousands of years, from the Long Night to the coming of the Andals. When the time comes for my sons to make me a grandsire, they will tell their children that their wedding vows were spoken under a heart tree."
Alaric thought to himself that if anything would unnerve the queen, it was hearing this. He did not wish to anger her by any means, but Lord Stark wanted to see if the queen had any plans for his house's future. After all, she was good friends with Lord Theomore Manderly, and while the man's loyalty to the Starks could never be questioned, Alaric thought that the laid-back lifestyle of White Harbor - with its balls and feasts and politics - was what Queen Alysanne was expecting throughout all the North. Even near the Wall, the queen was well-known for arranging marriages between rather remote houses, but Alaric would not allow Brandon, Aldrick, or Alarra be involved in any political games.
Yet even this did not seem to trouble. Alysanne merely nodded and took another drink of ale from her mug before responding to his concerns.
"I understand your concerns entirely, Lord Alaric, so I took it upon myself to find which houses south of the Neck still kept the Old Gods. It may please you to know that most houses still have a godswood standing from before the coming of the Andals, but if your future good-daughter's beliefs are of chief concern, there are the Blackwoods in the Riverlands who still keep to your gods. Another you may consider is House Shett of Gulltown, a vassal to the Graftons who reign as lords of that city."
Brandon, heir to Winterfell, spoke for the first time since the queen arrived. "The Shetts? Your Grace, forgive me for objecting, but I thought they were destroyed by the Graftons centuries ago."
"I can assure you that they did not. In the centuries after their downfall, one Grafton lord felt guilty about the dishonorable means with which his family took over the city, thus granting House Shett to worship both Old and New Gods. The Shetts of Gull Tower similarly worship both sets of gods, not to mention House Royce, who you no doubt know to be the chief vassal family of House Arryn. Beyond those, you have House Strong of the Stronghold - they reside near Harrenhal, you see, an ancient knightly house - and then House Rogers of the Stormlands. The Blackwoods have some cadet branches as well, the Silverleafs and Redroots, among others. I recalled seeing up to a dozen houses who shared faith in the Old Gods, and if you were to ask me at a later time, I can find their names for you in the castle's libraries."
Alaric Stark could only sit there stunned at what he heard. This small, non-threatening woman before him was no weak, mindless consort sent forth to smile and please her people on behalf of her king. Queen Alysanne's was her husband's equal, or as close to an equal as a consort could be to the Lord of the Seven Kingdoms. She was fearless, brilliant, & confident, and all in the room knew it.
"I, um…" Alaric cleared his throat. "I appreciate your time in, er, respecting our faith, Your Grace, and I will take your words into deep consideration. We simply didn't expect you to put so much effort into preparing a list of prospective wives for our boys."
"Though I must say I appreciate being given such a variety of brides to choose from," Brandon jested. Aldrick unsuccessfully tried to stifle a laugh, while Alarra sat in her seat looking rather confused, as expected from a six-year-old.
In any case, Alysanne remained unperturbed. "Tis no trouble at all. I must admit that arranging betrothals and weddings among the houses of Westeros, large and small, is my favorite activity in my capacity as queen. My grandmother, Rhaenys, sought to unite distant houses through weddings, such as having Lord Florian Tarth's triplet daughters wed to a Corbray, a Hightower, and a Harlaw."
"If I remember correctly, she also had Lord Torrhen Stark's daughter wed to the young Lord of the Vale, Ronnel Arryn. A waste of a betrothal - the boy didn't even give her a child before his brother threw him out the Moon Door."
Queen Alysanne was quiet for a second before taking a small sip of ale. "That was actually Visenya who arranged that union. She was…rather fond of the child, ever since took him on Vhagar flew around the Eyrie three times to hold him as a hostage while his mother gave up her crown and his."
Alaric could immediately sense he had touched a sore subject without intending to. Even in the North, Aegon's elder sister, one of his two wives and mother of Maegor the Cruel, had a foul reputation. It was believed by smallfolk and lords alike that she was a witch who had conceived her son through dark magic, which explained his vile nature. The king had thankfully been too preoccupied with murdering thousands of pious Southron smallfolk to focus on the North, yet his chaotic reign was a stern reminder to House Stark and its vassals as to why they should always keep a safe distance from the affairs of Westeros south of the Neck.
"Forgive me, Your Grace, if I brought up any unwelcome-"
"It's alright," Alysanne assured him with a small smile. "I know you intended no harm. Come now, I think we're done with breakfast. May I ask to see Winterfell's archery range?
…
Alaric Stark stood with his three children as the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, petite as she was, had decided to try her skill with bow & arrow. It was certainly a confusing sight - the North was no stranger to women serving as warriors, but this was no Northerner. Alysanne Targaryen had no reputation for martial skills, in sharp contrast to her great-aunt Visenya.
And yet in spite of that, this woman had no issue with taking half a dozen arrows and positioning herself to aim at a target, and in a dress.
"Thank you, Lord Alaric, for letting me practice my archery skills within your castle walls. Being a mother has given me more joy than I could have ever imagined, but having to raise four children has given me little time for more physical activities."
"Tis no problem at all," the Lord of Winterfell replied. "Would you like to change first? I would imagine you aren't accustomed to wearing leather and jerkin, but perhaps it would-"
TWUNG! THUMP!
The sound of the bow's release and its arrow striking the target board's center interrupted Lord Alaric. He and his two sons stared at the shot in awe, while Alysanne gave them a proud smile after aiming such an accurate shot. Little Alarra smiled, and Alysanne looked down to smile down at the curious little girl.
"That was, er, a fine shot, Your Grace," Lord Stark managed to say. "It seems your skills have not deteriorated since you last held a bow."
"You're too kind, Lord Stark. I also have some experience in hunting, and I would be delighted if I could gander at the great animals of the North alongside you and your sons."
"I…I would be honored." Lord Stark was still having some difficulty taking in this woman's inability to disappoint her host. King Jaehaerys somehow managed to find a perfect wife from the same mother, and now Queen Alysanne had done the king's work of charming the most distant and disgruntled of the Great Lords of the realm. (Aside from Dorne, that is, but the Martells were best left alone).
"If I may ask, my Queen," began Brandon Stark, "where did you learn such marksmanship?"
Alysanne's smile disappeared as she took aim at the second target board. "From the late Queen Visenya."
TWUNG! THUMP!
Another arrow flew from the queen's bow and struck its target dead in the middle. Silence of a most uncomfortable fell on the training yard, as Alysanne, not saying a word, calmly but coldly moved on to the next target.
"After my father died, my mother, Alyssa Velaryon, took me and two of my brothers - Viserys and my king Jaehaerys - to her girlhood home of Driftmark. But Visenya paid a visit to us on the back of Vhagar and made it clear to my mother that obeisance to her son, who sat on the throne rightfully belonging to my eldest brother Aegon, was necessary to avoid violence towards her children.
"Following Maegor's wedding to Tyanna, one of his six wives as well as his spymaster…"
TWUNG! THUMP!
Alysanne allowed one of her arrows to interrupt her. This one was not perfectly in the middle like the previous two - having landed slightly to the left of the center - but it was still a fine shot just within the borders of the smallest circle.
"...Visenya had Jaehaerys, my mother and I brought to Dragonstone as hostages, while Viserys was to remain in the capital where Maegor could keep an eye on him. Visenya always planned for Maegor to have a son, and once that occurred, both sons of King Aenys would be disposed of to silence any challenge to her son's reign."
She stopped only to position herself to let loose another arrow. This one also hit the board just within the yellow circle in the middle, though this one was north of the exact center.
As she walked to the next target, Alysanne continued her story. "But for me, I can only assume she saw me as less of a threat to her son's reign. A girl of six who could be wed off to secure an alliance. But one day in the yard, Visenya, who I had been terrified of up to that point, wanted to show me how to shoot with a bow & arrow. With how small I was then, too young to see this woman would slit our throats for trying to escape Dragonstone, I was in awe. Then Maegor's mother said that I could start practicing my archery skills and that my mother need not know.
"It was only when I spent that year on Dragonstone with Jaehaerys that I told anyone about that. I did practice archery after Visenya's lesson, but I was old enough to understand how vile she was."
Alysanne pulled back the bowstring and squinted her left eye. "He told me that I should do whatever makes me happy, that wicked old bitch be damned. Jaehaerys said that she was dead and could do us no more harm. He said I should practice with bow & arrow in spite of her, not because of her. So here I am, practicing archery in the yard which you have so generously allowed me to set foot upon."
TWUNG! THUMP!
This arrow, like the first two, struck its mark perfectly dead in the center. Alysanne lowered her bow, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. She then turned to Lord Alaric and his children and smiled.
"I hope you were all impressed by that. And let me thank you again for allowing me to reintroduce myself to this hobby."
Alaric's sons, Brandon and Aldrick were stunned into silence. As their jaws were stuck in an agape position, they began softly applauding the queen's marksmanship. Their little sister Alarra did the same, but she wore a cheerful smile matched by her louder clapping. The Lord of Winterfell, meanwhile, walked slowly towards Alysanne until he stood right in front of her. He was at least half a foot taller than Queen Alysanne, yet their stature and confidence matched each other's perfectly.
"I was quite wrong about you, my Queen. You are no mere southron lady, despite what many including myself believed. I would be happy to host you further in my home, within the limits of reason of course."
Alysanne beamed. "You're far too kind, Lord Stark. If I may, could I request to speak with you alone here? I merely have a few matters I'd like to sort with you."
Alaric nodded and turned back to his children. "Brandon, Aldrick, take Alarra back inside. I need to speak with the Queen for some time and we wish not to be disturbed."
The two young men bowed and said "Your Grace" as their sister curtseyed in her little dress. Once they had left, Alaric turned his attention back to his guest.
"Now then, how can House Stark serve the royal family?"
"You've already done plenty for us simply by agreeing to host me," assured Alysanne. "If I may state a few requests, I'd like to explore Winterfell's library. A silly thing to ask for, you may think, but the Starks are one of the oldest families in the realm. I'd love to explore your ancient scrolls and see what your ancestors accomplished dating back thousands of years."
"Done," Alaric bluntly stated. "Will that be all?"
"I wish to host a women's court at this castle. Since joining Jaehaerys on his royal progresses, I've begun to allow any woman who comes forth, be they born of nobility or smallfolk, to share their troubles & woes with me. Lord Theomore Manderly was kind enough to allow me to have such an event in White Harbor, and I think even speaking to the ladies in and around Winterfell would be a fulfilling experience."
Alaric pondered the idea before nodding. "That seems like a noble gesture, Your Grace. It shall be done. When this frost eventually thaws, I would love to take you hunting for elk and other game in our wolfswood. I think you'll find them to be larger and stronger here than in your southern forests."
"That sounds lovely. And may I discuss one more topic with you?"
Alaric raised an eyebrow. "Go on."
"Your daughter, Alarra…she truly is a little delight to watch. Remind me, how old is she?"
Even as Alaric understood where this conversation was likely headed, he restrained himself from speaking on it. "Six years old, Your Grace."
"Same as my eldest son, Aegon. I would happily take Alarra south to King's Landing as my companion if you would be willing. She could grow to be a friend for Aegon or his siblings in time - my daughter Daenerys will be five years old in less than half a year. In time, it would be my pleasure to ensure your daughter is wed to a good and wise lord. If you enable me to do so, of course."
Alaric turned away to ponder his decision, the queen waiting patiently as he did. Alysanne would not fault him if he refused, for she above all else knew the pain of being separated from her children for any long period of time. It was silent for some time until Alaric turned back around to face her again.
"Very well. You may take her south with you as your lady. But I wish for her to not wed any lord unless I give her leave to do so. I don't wish to be problematic, my Queen, but-"
"Tis no problem at all. I will never bring shame upon a father for ensuring his child's safety. And I assure you that your Alarra will learn much in my court, and she will wed a good, strong man worthy of your approval."
…
58 AC, twenty-first day of the eighth month.
He had managed to arrive at Winterfell the day before in the morning. It had taken him weeks upon weeks of negotiating with and reassuring the Archon of Tyrosh & Prince of Pentos, and he never could have imagined how impatient he was to get out of King's Landing through any means necessary. The only thing that kept him relatively sane was seeing his children every day, especially Aegon and Daenerys as his eldest grow in age and maturity. Even then, his time spent with them was unbearably little compared to the hellish hours spent attempting to create an agreement suitable for both cities.
Only when Jaehaerys plainly stated to them that he would raise armies to pacify their conflict by force did both sides finally strive to reach a compromise. No doubt the thought of Vermithor raining fire down upon their cities frightened the foreigners far more than any number of men. When the treaty was signed, Jaehaerys celebrated by spending the rest of the day with the children before he prepared to join his wife at Winterfell.
It had been half a year since he had seen his beloved queen, far too long. Even when Maegor ruled in King's Landing, Jaehaerys and Alysanne had been together, not to mention their special year on Dragonstone when the Faith and the Small Council sought to tear them apart. When Vermithor landed just outside the walls of Winterfell, the king was glad to see Alysanne was in good spirits, made ever clearer by her returning his fierce embrace with one just as strong.
Before she could regale him with her wonderous tales of the North, Alysanne sought to introduce Jaehaerys to the Warden of the North, Alaric Stark, whom she had spent much time with since arriving at Winterfell. If she had hoped the two men would become fast friends, the queen was far too optimistic. Jaehaerys could hear the coldness in Lord Alaric's voice even as he greeted him, and he also saw that Alaric's blue eyes stared at him with the feeling of accusation.
Jaehaerys was barely able to meet and exchange pleasantries with Alaric Stark's children when the Lord of Winterfell asked for the king to come with him into the crypts of the castle. Not desiring to appear discourteous or haughty, Jaehaerys obliged his request. He was famished, but he was also smart enough to put aside his hunger so he could best deal with whatever resentment Lord Alaric possessed for him.
He quickly learned of its origin. Alaric Stark brought Jaehaerys down to the tombs of his ancestors - both those who served as Warden of the North and those who called themselves King of the North in the times before the Conqueror. And among all the tombs beneath the castle, the one Alaric had wished above all others to show his guest was that of Walton Stark, Alaric's deceased older brother.
"This was the work of the Faith Militant, the ones who sought to spread their faith through steel rather than speech. After you disarmed them and sent them north to the Wall, the Night's Watch struggled to feed them all, but at the very least the Lord Commander had more than enough men to hold off wildling attacks. He could have even sent them to man some of the Wall's abandoned fortresses.
"Alas," Lord Stark continued, "two of the men who arrived at Castle Black had worn the white cloak for your uncle, Maegor, and it seemed they shared his love of treachery. They led an uprising at Castle Black that forced my brother to march north to put it down. Walton died chasing those rebels into wildling lands."
Jaehaerys stood in silence for several seconds looking down at Walton Stark's tomb before responding. "I am sorry for your loss, my Lord. Truly. I had hoped the men sent north would attempt to earn some shred of honor through service in the Night's Watch, but it seems their hearts were only embittered by their exile. You have my sincere thanks in stopping their rebellion, Lord Stark."
"I would sooner have my brother."
Alaric Stark's cold words struck the king to his core and made him think of his own deceased brothers. Jaehaerys was born the third son of King Aenys I, behind Aegon and Viserys. His eldest brother had been kind to Jaehaerys, from what the king could remember, ruffling his hair and promising to teach him how to fight when Jaehaerys was of age. But while Aegon was an outgoing young man filled with laughter, Viserys was more reserved and quiet, though just like his elder brother, the prince was kind to his younger siblings.
Both would have been great kings, but both met their ends at Maegor's hand. Aegon and his dragon, which had once belonged to their father, were killed above the God's Eye by Maegor on the back of Balerion. Following Aegon's death, Viserys spent years as his uncle's hostage before being tortured to death as punishment for his mother taking Jaehaerys and Alysanne from the island of Dragonstone. That left Jaehaerys as the last son of Aenys, which was used to help him ascend the throne after Maegor mysteriously died.
In any event, Jaehaerys did not know how to respond to Alaric Stark in a manner that would bridge the gap between them. Mentioning his own deceased siblings would do naught to bring back Walton Stark, and thanking him again would only serve to make it seem as if Lord Alaric's brother died for a just cause when the Warden of the North instead viewed it as pointless.
It was to Jaehaerys's great relief that, once the two of them emerged from the crypts of Winterfell, his beloved queen arrived to greet them both and take them to the dining hall. Over breakfast, she discussed having Lord Alaric's young daughter arrive south with the rest of her retinue as her lady-in-waiting, which would sail from White Harbor to the capital. Jaehaerys looked upon the little girl: she matched her father's brown hair and blue eyes, but she seemed to be a happy, if slightly shy, child, which sharply contrasted her father even as the man seemed to dote on her as any good father did their daughter.
Alysanne was also excited to mention the large tourney to be held near the end of the year, intended to celebrate Jaehaerys's tenth year on the throne. The mention of such an event intrigued Lord Alaric's two sons, each of them a young but energetic warrior befitting of the Stark name. Jaehaerys also noticed that Alaric seemed to be far more relaxed when conversing with the queen, which was a pleasant surprise given what the king had heard of Lord Stark's unyieldingly stoic demeanor.
Jaehaerys was walking alongside Alysanne and Alaric as the queen wished to show her king the heart tree of Winterfell (with Alaric's permission, of course). It was just next to a lake of cold black water deep in the godswood, and its bleeding eyes - carved into the center of the trunk - could scare some men into swearing fealty to the Old Gods in the hopes of avoiding their wroth. Jaehaerys approached the tree slowly to inspect it, but when he placed his hand on it, an image appeared in his mind.
All he could see was a man and a woman set to be wed. The man in question was tall and strong, wearing marvelous clothes adorned with the red dragon of House Targaryen, and his Valyrian origin was confirmed by his long silver hair and violet eyes. The woman, while taller than many of her sex, was shorter than him still, possessing a curtain of straight, silky dark brown hair and having blue eyes. She wore a white wedding dress made of the finest materials as it flowed down to the ground and behind her.
Man and woman smiled and closed their eyes before joining their lips together. Jaehaerys could hear the thunderous applause immediately after, but soon something even louder drowned out that sound. Cries, no, roars. The roars of dragons.
Jaehaerys somehow managed to pull himself from the heart tree without even noticing it, the vision vanishing like a mummer's trick. He caught his breath and stumbled backwards into the arms of his dear wife.
"Jaehaerys, are you alright?!"
Lord Alaric was right behind her. "What happened, Your Grace? Should you rest back at your quarters within the castle?"
The king turned to face the both of them and composed himself. No doubt they would think him mad if he told what he had seen - seven hells, even he was trouble believing what he had seen. But now Jaehaerys knew this - House Targaryen was not the only family in Westeros with unique ties to the higher mysteries, and this heart tree belonging to their gods proved it.
"Yes, I'm quite alright," he told Alysanne and Alaric. "I was merely lost in thought over something I once glimpsed in the past and became startled. I assure you, I'm fine. Now, let us talk about this tourney the queen and I have planned for later this year…"
...
...
Back again with a new chapter! I apologize for the wait, it's been insanely busy for me this last month with life stuff. Because of said life stuff, it may be a bit before I write another chapter for any of my stories. But until then, enjoy this chapter & the previous ones. Til next time!