The sigils of House Lannister, House Westering, House Crakehall and House Marbrand were draped all over… everything. Alysanne found it strange that these Westerlands' Houses had placed their colours out as if they were equal to the black and gold of House Baratheon. No other person in the court commented on it however, so she assumed that it was some strange southron custom. The Westerlords were the first of a large group that would be arriving over the next few weeks in preparation for her wedding to Joffrey, and having them here made everything even more real than it had been previously.
Of course, she had already spent hours with her ladies and the seamstress, planning the small details of the royal wedding. But that was abstract, this was tangible. “You look quite well,” a feminine voice called from behind her.
Alysanne turned on her heel and curtsied when she saw who it was. “Your Grace,” she said, straightening to look at the Queen. “Thank you. You look beautiful.” She wasn’t lying. The Queen was absolutely gorgeous in her red gown. The pinch to her brows that seemed to be ever present did slightly limit some of her beauty, but not all of it.
The Queen gave a pinched smile. “My son is quite taken with you,” she said, moving slightly closer to Aly.
“And I am quite taken with him,” Aly said. It had been weeks since Joffrey’s first apology, and the prince had continued to offer gifts and words of flattery multiple times a day. It was pleasant and it made the hurt of losing her wolf less potent.
“Good,” Cersei almost hissed. “My son is a good boy and will be a great king. Remember your place and everything will be perfect.”
Alysanne straightened slightly and stared directly into Cersei’s eyes. “I will never forget my place beside my husband.” She curtsied slightly, not taking her eyes off of the Queen’s, and left with a sharp click to her steps.
----
“Jeyne Westerling,” Coryanne said, waving her hand in the direction of the Westerling nobles on the balcony above them. “She is of age with you and the Westerlings are quite close with their liege lords. She is who you should make your lady.”
“Jeyne Westerling,” Alysanne repeated. She looked over the party, attempting to spot the girl. She was easy to find. The only woman of age with Alysanne in the party, with dark hair braided atop her head and soft eyes that seemed to be taking in every detail of the throne room. “I shall inquire about her.”
“The ladies from the Riverlands arrive today as well,” Lorra commented, stepping slightly closer to try and keep their conversation as private as it could be in the Keep. “I have already requested that the maids ready their rooms.”
“Good,” Aly nodded. “Then I shall head to the Godswood to pray before they arrive—” she stretched her arms slightly— “I have not had the time in recent weeks and Arya requested we go together.”
“If I may accompany you as well?” Tyla asked.
“Of course,” Aly smiled. “Please.” The two northern ladies stood, saying swift goodbyes to their companions before heading in the direction of the Godswood. It was still strange to pray there, the Old Gods did not have strength here in the south and especially not in a place with no weirwoods, but it was the best option and so she settled for it. Arya was already waiting by the entrance to the gardens, bouncing on her feet.
Her little sister hurried through the gardens, stumbling over rocks. Aly shared a smile with Tyla. It was always wonderful to see her sister happy and it had been such a rare occurrence since they had left Castle Darry. The three girls reached the centre of the garden and knelt to pray, though Arya was still bouncing slightly. Obviously something good had happened to her little sister, but Arya didn’t seem to want to tell Alysanne, or she already would have.
They finished their prayers just as the sun reached its highest point and Arya once again led the way back through the gardens. She jumped up to touch the branches of some trees, letting out joyful laughs as she did. A few times Alysanne had to call ahead to remind her sister to remain with them so she was safe, but Arya didn’t seem to care, prancing around like a prized jousting horse. Her joy had been such a rare thing that Aly found she did not care.
Arya split from the group once they were inside, probably going to cause some mischief while Alysanne and her ladies headed towards the courtyard to greet the new arrivals.
Coryanne, Lorra and Melony were already waiting for Aly and Tyla, dressing in their new matching dark grey dresses. The seamstress had spent hours deciding on the perfect fabric, even ensuring that she had extra to be used when the rest of her ladies arrived, and it was lovely. Her own red dress stood out amongst them, but she supposed that wasn’t an issue, she was supposed too after all.
The wheelhouses coming through the Red Keep gates were different from the one the Queen and her children had made use of. Smaller for certain, and less decorative. More practical truly. The one in the lead had the silver eagle of House Mallister painted on the side, and the one behind the twin towers of Frey flying on a flag above it.
The wheelhouses pulled to a stop and the doors opened. The first to step out was the girl in the Mallister wheelhouse, Melissa if Alysanne’s memory could be relied upon. Her blonde hair was pulled back from her face in a braid, revealing her blue eyes as they darted around. Aly didn’t have much time to focus on her however, as the other lady stepped out into the courtyard. She was certainly older than Melissa, if only by a year or two, but the styling of her red hair was more stiff, the braid tighter.
“Welcome,” Alysanne spoke first, stepping half-a-step forward. “We are very pleased to have you here. And I personally am overjoyed.”
“Thank you,” Melissa bowed her head and bent her legs in a slight curtsy. “It is an honour to be asked to serve as your lady.”
“Yes, an honour,” the Frey girl agreed. “My Father was quite pleased.”
“As I am pleased he agreed,” Alysanne smiled. “Please, meet my other ladies.” She raised a hand to signal that the women behind her move forward to stand in line with her. She began to list them, motioning to each lady as she spoke.
“An honour to meet you my ladies,” the Frey girl curtsied slightly. “I am Roslin Frey.” Roslin, that was the girls name.
“And I am Melissa Mallister, but everyone in Seaguard calls me Missy,” Melissa smiled.
“And everyone here calls me Aly,” Aly returned her smile. “Come let me show you your rooms.”
----
Sewing was perhaps the thing that Aly found the most joy in, besides archery but her father had specifically ordered her not to engage in such activities until her wedding. So she was stuck spending most of her free time with her ladies practicing her sewing and embroidery. Most days Sansa and Jeyne Poole would accompany her and her ladies, but since they were being joined by Melissa, Roslin and Jeyne Westerling, her sister had decided to give them privacy.
“Oh that is lovely my lady,” Melissa praised as she peaked at the embroidery Tyla was doing.
“I am no lady,” Tyla shook her head. “But thank you.”
“Apologies,” Melissa smiled. “That is a flower, yes?” she pointed to one of the parts of the embroidery, continuing the conversation as if the correction had never happened. It was something that Aly had noticed about the Mallister girl very quickly, she never seemed to stumble over words and doubt her course. It was refreshing.
“A winter rose,” Tyla agreed. “They grow in the Glass Gardens in Winterfell.” Alysanne smiled, her and Tyla had always loved the winter roses. When they were girls they used to pluck them and braid them into their hair, it was a fond collection of memories. “I try to include them in all my embroidery.” Tyla continued to explain, “they are very beautiful.”
“Perhaps we could request some for my wedding,” Alysanne commented. “They would look beautiful displayed in the sunlight here.”
“Oh they would,” Tyla agreed. “We should request that your Father sends for some.” Aly nodded in agreement.
“Have you—” Jeyne Westerling started, halted when all eyes turned to her, cleared her throat and continued. “Have you chosen the fabric for your dress yet, my lady?”
Alysanne gave her a gentle smile to hopefully help calm the nervous girl but shook her head. “The seamstress has offered multiple options but I cannot seem to choose one.” She sighed. “Perhaps you may assist me, my ladies.” There were mutters of agreement from around the room.
Alysanne opened her mouth to continue conversing but the sound of a door opening and footsteps on stone made her pause. She turned slightly to see who was entering. Her ladies reacted before she did, rising to their feet in short curties. “My prince,” Lorra said.
Joffrey was smiling as he entered the room, one of his hands held behind his back. “My ladies,” he nodded his head. “Lady Alysanne.”
“Prince Joffrey,” Alysanne stood to curtsy. “What brings you here?”
“I have something for you.” He stopped walking in front of Aly and smiled at her.
“Something?” Aly asked, raising a brow.
Joffrey’s smile turned slightly more playful as he raised his hand from behind his back and revealed what he had brought. It was a necklace and a set of earrings. The earrings seemed to match the necklace he had given her during the tourney, silver with carved wolves faces and pearls dangling from them. The necklace was also silver with small rubies hanging from it in the same shade as Lannister red.
“They are wonderful,” Aly said. “But exactly how much jewellery will you gift me in hopes to earn my love?” She raised an eyebrow in a half joke.
“Quite a lot,” Joffrey replied. “But I also wondered if you might accompany me on a journey tomorrow.”
“A journey?” Alysane asked. “What kind?”
“You shall have to wait and see my lady,” Joffrey smirked. “If you come.”
“We shall see,” Aly said slowly. “Thank you, for these,” she said as she took the jewellery from his hands.
“You are most welcome,” Joffrey bowed slightly. “I shall see you on the morrow, my betrothed.”
“I only said I would think about it,” Aly called after him as he left, but Joffrey didn’t bother to respond.
Vivec nodded. He pulled his hand back from Naris’ and straightened slightly, the aura of power around him suddenly becoming much more present. “Much to discuss,” he repeated. “You succeeded in your task, the heart is destroyed and as such Dagoth Ur is dead.”
“Well—” Naris paused— “that isn’t entirely true.” Vivec raised an eyebrow, worry creasing his features for a moment. “The heart didn’t disappear, it stayed in the mountain.”
Vivec’s eyes widened and shock filled his expression. “Well, that is an unexpected development,” his expression cleared after a moment and he nodded his head. “We were sure that once the enchantments broke the heart would be pulled to some other place, hmm, perhaps Sil will know the reason why.”
Naris swallowed, watching Vivec’s expression for a moment as he considered revealing the other detail regarding the heart. “I— I also kept the tools,” he said eventually.
“You kept the tools?” Shock returned to Vivec’s face, “you, want us to have the tools?”
“I didn’t say that,” Naris smirked slightly. “I brought them back to decide whether I want you to have them.”
Vivec nodded slowly in understanding. “And what will lead to your decision?”
“Whether or not I trust you, and I haven’t decided that yet—” Vivec’s eyes flashed with emotion and Naris ignored the slight tug in his gut at the sight— “don’t look at me like that, you betrayed my trust, Vehk and it may take some time before I trust you again like I did before.”
“I understand, you have every right to believe me untrustworthy—” Vivec’s expression became stoic and calm— “I will simply have to prove that I am trustworthy as I have always been.”
Naris smiled slightly, then a soft yawn came from him. “I am so sorry Vehk, there is of course mush more for us to discuss, but I haven’t slept in days and really need to rest.” Vivec nodded once and stood waving Naris to stand too.
“Come, you can sleep in one of the guest chambers,” Vivec led Naris through his large palace and into a large bedroom with a huge bed in the centre. “Please rest, I must summon Almaleixa and Sil, to discuss what has transpired.” Naris smiled at his old friend and nodded, tiredness was seeping into his bones and no words came to him. Vivec left the room and Naris collapsed onto the bed, his vision going black.
---
Ash was spilling across the bay, not from the ever smoking Red Mountain, but from what seemed to be a huge fire. Nerevar watched as the ash fell into the waters, he could not see whatever was burning, not from this distance. “I wonder what happened,” Almalexia muttered, leaning against Nerevar’s side.
“I do not believe she can,” Almalexia sighed. Nerevar shot her a look out of the corner of his eyes. His wife had become more and more cynical in the past years, and it was beginning to worry him. But he didn’t have time to worry about that now, there was a dangerous fire that needed to be dealt with.
“We should—” his words were cut off by a loud bang. Almalexia jumped, her hand snapping to the hilt of her sword. Nerevar gripped his own blade in his hand as he looked around, searching for whatever had made the sound.
There was nothing in sight and yet he could still feel something close. “Stay here,” he hissed to his wife.
Almalexia’s nose wrinkled. “I am no maiden in need of protection Neht,” she snapped. “I shall come.”
Nerevar pursed his lips. His wife was a warrior as much as he was, but still his heart ached for him to protect her. However, the look on her face told Nerevar that she was not going to be swayed on this, so he simply sighed and drew his sword. “Stay beside me then,” he said. Almalexia smirked triumphantly.
The two walked slowly along the edge of the shore, eyes darting around for a threat. That bang had come from somewhere close, so someone had to be here, but there was no sign of them. The further they moved away from their starting point the more Nerevar relaxed. Maybe the sound had simply been some large beast that was frightened by the ash cloud.
But just as Nerevar was thinking this a branch snapped beside him and he spun, raising his blade. “Neht? It’s me.”
“Vehk?” Nerevar gaped as his young friend appeared amongst the trees. The other elf was covered in ash, his golden skin stained with gray to the point that it looked like it was his skin itself. “What happened?”
Almalexia appeared at his shoulder, eyes widening at the sight of the younger elf. “What?” she breathed.
“I had to try and save them,” Vehk said, looking somewhere between sheepish and defiant as he jerked his chin towards the Inner Sea.
Nerevar sighed. “Vehk that was incredibly foolish and dangerous,” he scolded. “You are still training, you should have come to us.”
“I was already on Vvardenfell,” Vehk defended. “I was closer and quicker. Besides, I managed to save him.”
“Save him?” Almalexia cut in before Nerevar could continue in scolding of his wayward apprentice. “Who is him?”
Vehk stepped aside, revealing the prone body of a mer lying in the bushes. He was obviously unconscious and he was also covered in a thick layer of ash. “He was the only one still alive,” Vehk breathed.
“By Azura,” Nerevar whispered. “We should get him inside quickly.”
Nerevar’s eyes fluttered slightly and he was quite sure he saw a blurry shape beside him but before his eyes could focus they closed again and he slipped into darkness.
---
Naris woke to the sound of someone shifting by his side. The soft fabric of the sheets were the most comfortable thing Naris had slept on in months. He absently noticed that he had been changed out of his armour and into softer bed clothes. Naris slowly opened his eyes, squinting at the light, he raised himself up on his elbows and glanced around the room.
His eyes swept the room. A pair of bright golden eyes were watching him, taking in his entire body. Almalexia was as beautiful in person as she had been in his dream. Her red hair was loose, softly falling around her face and the gold of her skin seemed to glow in the pale light of the morning coming through the skylight.
Managing to tear his eyes away from his beautiful wife, Naris spotted the other person that had filled his dreams since his arrival in Vvardenfell. Sotha Sil was watching him as Almalexia had been. His eyes, always so sharp, had caught every expression, every movement that Naris had made. Sil looked the same, but different. His intelligent eyes now glowed a bright red, and his golden skin had faded to ashen grey, but he was still as handsome as ever.
“You changed me,” Naris finally spoke, turning his eyes to Vivec.
It was not a question, but Vivec answered anyway. “You collapsed before you had the chance to,” he smiled slightly. “I thought you would be more comfortable sleeping in… softer… clothes. I left your underclothes on, if that worries you.”
Naris blushed softly. “No, I didn't even think about that. Thank you.” He coughed. Vivec smirked.
“You must have been exhausted—” Almalexia cut in, stepping forward— “walking all the way to Red Mountain and fighting Dagoth Ur.”
Naris turned to fully face her. “Yes, it was quite exhausting, but…” he paused and thought over what to say. He could… Well he was never one for subtlety and by Oblivion he was still tired. “Returning here was calming though, yi'cilver.”
Almalexia froze, her eyes widening slightly in shock. Naris saw Sil take a half-step back.
Vivec chuckled slightly. “Even reincarnated you lack tact, Neht.”
“And it is one of my traits you love the most,” Naris responded, cocking his head.
“You… you,” Almalexia stuttered, which was very unlike her. “You know… you remember?”
“I am Nerevar,” Naris said. “His soul returned to Tamriel. I am Nerevar Incarnate in every way, my love.”
Almalexia let out a choked sound. “I never thought. I mean to say, that I believed perhaps Azura would not return you with every memory.”
“She did,” Naris smiled softly, staring into his wife’s golden eyes as a soft sheen covered them.
“Then perhaps her goal will not be achieved,” Sil spoke for the first time. Naris furrowed his brows as he looked at him. “Azura wishes you to kill us,” Sil said firmly. “But I doubt Nerevar could ever do such a thing.”
“No,” Naris agreed. “I do not believe I could.”
Sotha Sil was still looking at him with calculating eyes. His ever sceptical friend would doubt everything he said for a while, that Naris knew. And he found it comforting that Sil was still as he had always been.
“I will defend Morrowind with my life,” Naris said, staring directly into Sil’s eyes. “I only hope that defending Morrowind does not include killing the only people I have ever loved.”
“Prince Joffrey has sent me to inquire as to whether or not you will be attending the final jousts,” the servant asked.
Alyssane half-turned where she stood with her ladies helping her dress. “Of course I am,” Aly replied. “Tell Prince Joffrey, that if he wishes me to accompany him he should come and ask me.” The servant’s eyes widened slightly. “In a gentler tone of course,” she added. The servant bowed and left on hurried feet.
“I thought you had forgiven him,” Coryanne commented, fixing Aly’s sleeve.
“I was pleased with his display of repentance,” Aly said. “But I will require many more over the next months.”
“Good,” Tyla nodded. “His pride cost you a loyal companion and your sister a friend. I liked Meleys.” She pouted.
“As did I,” Aly sighed. “But I do not feel as though I have lost her truly, she is in my heart always.” Alysanne leant her head back allowing herself a moment of peaceful thought.
“Ruby or sapphire?” Melony asked. Aly looked back down to see her holding two separate necklaces in her hands. One was the gold and ruby necklace she had bought on her name day, the other was silver with a singular sapphire jewel hanging from it.
Alysanne considered both of them for a moment. “The ruby,” she said eventually, just as the door to her chambers opened once more and Tyla and Coryanne dropped into curtsies.
“My ladies,” Joffrey said as he entered the room.
“My prince,” all four replied at the same time.
Melony reached up to place the ruby necklace around Alysanne’s neck just as she turned to face Joffrey. “You look lovely, my lady,” Joffrey said, eyes sweeping over the ruby necklace and down to the black gown. “My mother shall be quite jealous.”
“Oh I doubt that,” Alysanne laughed and shook her head. “The Queen is the most beautiful woman in the Seven Kingdoms, everyone says it.”
“Everyone has not met you, my betrothed,” Joffrey replied.
“You are such a flatterer my prince,” Alysanne smiled. She was sure she heard her ladies giggling behind her too. “You did not come here to flatter me, however, what is it you need?”
“I was here to ask you to accompany me to today's joust,” Joffrey said, in a more formal tone than he usually used.
“I would love to accompany you,” Aly nodded. “If I am ready?” she glanced back at her ladies, who nodded. “Wonderful, the litter is still waiting outside for you my friends, enjoy yourselves with my sisters.”
“Of course, my lady,” Tyla nodded.
“Now Joffrey, have you prepared a litter?” Alysanne asked, taking him by the arm and allowing her betrothed to lead her from the room. Joffrey did not respond immediately but he led her outside to a litter anyway.
“Did you think I would make you walk?” Joffrey joked as he led her to the beautiful gold covered litter.
“Mayhaps,” Aly shrugged. “Did you know it is improper for us to travel alone together? My Septa will have a fit.”
“We shall not tell her then,” Joffrey placed his finger to his lips to signal quiet. Alysanne laughed and nodded in agreement as Joffrey climbed in beside her and signalled for them to move.
The two fell into a discussion about their days and what they had been doing recently. Apparently, Joffrey had been attempting to convince his sister that one of her dolls was cursed, but Myrcella was quite adamant that it was not. Aly rolled her eyes as he complained about his failed attempts. “Perhaps, your sister knows you like to play jokes on her,” Aly commented.
Joffrey pouted. “Well yes, but it was easier when she was younger,” he complained. Alysanne rolled her eyes and chuckled.
Joffrey continued to complain for a while longer until he seemed to realise he was the one talking the entire journey and he stopped himself. “What of you, Alysanne? What have you been doing?”
“Mostly relaxing,” Aly said. “Exploring the Keep and discovering more about my new ladies.”
“Ah yes,” Joffrey nodded. “I heard that you sent ravens out all across the realm asking for lords to send their daughters to court.”
There was a question in his tone. “Yes,” Aly nodded, looking through the silk covering the sides of the litter to see that they were getting closer to the tourney ground. “If I am to be Queen I must know my kingdom. As well as I am sure you do.”
Joffrey licked his lips. Aly narrowed her eyes. “You have had tutoring on the customs of all the kingdoms, have you not?”
Joffrey shifted in his seat. “Of course I have,” he said. “I am only four-and-ten my betrothed, I have time to learn more,” his tone was defensive and his expression had shuttered closed as he spoke.
“I know,” Aly placated. “I was not meaning to insinuate that you were not preparing yourself appropriately.”
“I know,” Joffrey relaxed as the litter was placed down with a shake and the guard announced their arrival. “I apologise for my defensive response.”
“And I apologise for the tone of my question,” Aly replied, taking his hand to help herself stand.
They were closer to the ground than Aly had been yesterday, right next to the box where the royal family sat. Princess Myrcella and Prince Tommen were already present, as was Sandor Clegane. “Alysanne!” Myrcella grinned at her as she appeared. “You came!”
“Of course,” Alysanne smiled back at Myrcella. “I would not refuse such an invitation.” Joffrey led her directly to one of the remaining seats and helped her sit without creasing the silk of her dress too much.
“I thought you hated Joff,” Tommen said suddenly, and way too loudly for the topic.
“Tommen!” Joffrey snapped, glaring at his brother.
Aly placed a gentle hand on his arm. “I do not hate Joff,” she said. “I was- and am- quite angered by his actions-” she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye- “but he can fix it.”
“Which I shall,” Joffrey said in a soft voice. She could feel his eyes staring at her and Alysanne smiled to herself.
“Oh… okay,” Tommen shrugged. He was too young to really understand the complexity of Aly's feelings about Joff anyway.
Alysanne rolled her eyes. Loud, heavy footsteps on the stairs leading to the dias made Aly tense, but it was just the King. When he appeared, everyone stood and bowed, but he waved them off. “Alysanne Stark!” Robert called loudly when he saw her.
“Your grace,” Alysanne bowed her head.
“Good to see you girl!” Robert bellowed. “Finally got off your arse and talked to your girl aye Joff?”
Joffrey pursed his lips but nodded. “Yes Father.”
“Good! Good!” Robert nodded. “Now where’s my wine and a fucking joust.”
Alysanne winced, sharing a look with Joffrey who seemed irritated at his father’s crassness.
The sound of a trumpet announcing the joust was beginning made Aly look back to the field. It was the final tilts today, and riding in the first were Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain and Ser Loras Tyrell. The Knight of the Flowers.
And gods did the name suit him. The knight was dressed in a suit of shining silver armour polished to perfection, filigreed with twining black vines and tiny blue forget-me-nots. Alysanne gasped softly when she noticed that the forget-me-nots were real sapphires. His cloak seemed to have been woven of real forget-me-nots to match the sapphires. “Tyrells,” Aly muttered. “I heard they were extravagant but by the gods.”
Joffrey hummed in agreement. Ser Loras was mounted on a light mare to contrast the Mountain’s heavy stallion. “Speed over power,” she commented. “A good choice when jousting such a heavy man.”
Ser Loras rode his horse along the line of ladies against the barrier, and Aly noticed that in his hand was a rose. A bright red rose to symbolise beauty that he handed to Sansa the moment he came to a stop before her. “A Queen of Love and Beauty,” Alysanne said softly to Joffrey, making sure the King could not overhear.
“If the knight was smart, he would have named you,” Joffrey whispered back. Aly rolled her eyes and slapped his arm lightly but she could not stop the light blush now covering her cheeks.
As the Knight of Flowers and the Mountain made their ceremonial bows to the king, Aly noted that Gregor’s stallion was seemingly in a bad mood, he kept rearing and huffing. Odd, jousting horses were usually very well behaved.
The two knights pulled their horses to the ends of the lists and prepared. Then suddenly they were off, the Mountain’s stallion broke in a hard gallop, plunging forward wildly. Ser Gregor juggled with his lance, while fighting to hold his unruly mount on a straight line, and suddenly Loras Tyrell was on him, placing the point of his lance just there, and in an eye blink the Mountain was failing. He was so huge that he took his horse down with him in a tangle of steel and flesh.
Loras Tyrell rode to the end of the lists and lifted his visor. The commons went mad for him. In the middle of the field, Gregor Clegane was getting to his feet, he threw his lance down and it clattered on the ground so harshly that Aly could almost hear it.
“My sword,” he shouted to his squire, and the boy ran it out to him. Gregor Clegane drew his greatsword and sliced through his horse's neck with a single blow. Alysanne gasped, clutching at Joffrey’s arm. Then Gregor was striding down the lists toward Ser Loras Tyrell, his bloody sword clutched in his fist.
“Oh gods, he’s going to kill him,” Alysanne gasped just as the Mountain reached Loras Tyrell and threw him from his saddle with a single blow. Ser Loras lay stunned on the ground as Gregor went to strike another blow.
Suddenly, the Hound was moving. He had been standing behind Aly’s chair the entire joust but he ran down the steps of the dias and onto the field. Aly and Joffrey were on their feet at once, as the Hound reached the Mountain. “Leave him be!” the Hound snapped.
Gregor turned on his heel to lock his blade with his brothers. Aly clutched Joffrey tighter as the fight continued. Thrice Alysanne saw Ser Gregor aim blows at the Hound’s head, but she never once saw Sandor strike for his brother’s unprotected face.
“STOP THIS MADNESS IN THE NAME OF YOUR KING!” King Robert’s voice boomed around the tourney ground. The Hound went to one knee. Ser Gregor’s blow cut air, but he let the sword fall from his hand as the swing came to an end. He dropped his sword and glared at Robert for a moment, then wordlessy walked away. “Let him go,” Robert called.
Alysanne and Joffrey sat back down. Joffrey looked impressed, Aly shocked. Loras Tyrell reappeared on the field. “I owe you my life. The day is yours, ser.”
“I am no Ser,” the Hound responded. Ser Loras lifted the other man’s arm into the air and cheers broke out across the grounds.
----
“I’ve heard from Winterfell,” Father said. Aly paused, cutting through her dinner and turned to look at him. “Robb cannot leave while Bran is still weak and unable to act as Lord, so Catelyn will be coming south for your wedding instead.”
Aly slouched back. She had been waiting to see her brother again, and dreading seeing Lady Stark. Why would her stepmother even want to come to King’s Landing? She hated Alysanne, surely she didn’t want to see her wed. “Oh,” she eventually muttered.
“I know you miss Robb,” Father said, placing a gentle hand on Aly’s shoulder. “But his duty is to Winterfell.”
“I know,” Aly said. “I’m sure he’ll send a letter.”
“I’m sure,” Father nodded. He considered Alysanne for a moment before speaking again. “I noticed the ravens you sent out,” he said slowly. “I also noted that none were sent North.”
Aly blinked at him. “I have no need to learn the customs of the North, it is where I was raised.”
“Yes, but surely you would find comfort in having another Northern lady?” Father asked.
“I have Sansa, and Arya, and Tyla,” Aly said.
Father sighed. “Aly, I am trying to tell you that the Northern lords will think you have turned southron if you do not have a noble Northern lady beside you,” Father said.
Aly’s nose wrinkled. “You did not say that,” she replied. “And besides, what about me is Southron?”
“You’re hair,” Septa Mordane suddenly cut in from down the table, beside Sansa. “And your dresses. They are very southron, my dear.”
Aly touched the braid that sat atop her head gently, and then the dark blue of her bodice. “Oh… I had not even noticed…”
“We are the ones doing your hair, Aly,” Tyla said. “Coryanne, Melony and Lorra are all Southron ladies.”
“Right,” Alysanne nodded. She glanced sideways at her father. “Then perhaps I shall invite a Northern lady south… Lord Karstark has a daughter, doesn’t he?”
