Alysane
Early the next morning, Alysane awoke soaked in sweat, her long red hair plastered to her forehead, and her chest heaving.
The dreams were unrelenting; each time she found respite, a new horror made itself known: Oberyn chained to a saltire, whipped and flogged until the floors ran slick with his blood. The King caressing Eloise’s cheek as the door to his bed chamber closed. The Queen Smiling her cold, cruel smile as she watched Alysane burn on a pyre. Little Tristane, who she loved as if he were her own son, in a cage as filthy and staving, like the little child Sera.
“What’s wrong, my love?” Oberyn asked, sitting up and taking her in his arms.
“Wicked dreams,” she sobbed. “I know not how my mind could conjure such horrors,” she said as her breath spilled out in shudders. In truth, she knew that the dreams were the reflections of her fears.
Doran was playing a dangerous game, and she could not stop thinking that he was using Oberyn as a pawn. She could see it so clearly: Sending Oberyn meant that Doran could maintain plausible deniability; Oberyn was a second son – not Doran’s heir. Any plots to overthrow the king could be easily blamed on Oberyn’s wild ire. Alysane knew that Oberyn had a reputation for being half mad, though she knew it was one that he spent a great effort cultivating. Would Doran risk Quentyn and Tristane, though?
Doran might have thought the cause worthy enough to sacrifice his second child; Quentyn was no great speaker, nor was he particularly handsome, or skilled with a horse or blade. He was kind, but kindness was no currency in the capital. Arianne would inherit Doran’s title and holdings, which made Quentyn of little use as a hostage. The Lannisers would dispatch of him as easily as Oberyn
But would he risk Tristane? The Lannisters had no qualms about killing children, as they had Elia and her children murdered during the war. Alysane loved children, though she did not want any of her own. Tristane had taken a liking to Alysane almost immediately upon her arrival in Dorne, and their bond only grew closer on the journey to the capital. He was a sweet, kind boy who loved lizards and the color purple. Would Doran put such an innocent, pure soul at risk?
Or was he trusting Oberyn, and by extension herself, as he said? It drove her mad. The weight of it all; knowing that the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms had allowed those that murdered children to walk free. More than that – to hold places of honor in the royal court. She understood that Doran wanted revenge if he could not have justice. Perhaps he did not see it as treason if he did not recognize Robert as king.
Oberyn pulled back from her slightly.
“I wish you would return to Dorne,” he said. “Let me handle this, alone.”
“No.”
“Alysane,” he said softly, his deep brown eyes pleading. Alysane shook her head, holding his deep brown eyes in a stare that he eventually looked away from.
“We’ll have no more talk of this,” She commanded. She ran her fingers through his thick dark hair. “No more talk of you sending me away. I love you desperately. We are such the same, you and I,” she said, taking his hand and pressing her palm flat to his. “I cannot bear to be apart from you, and as uneasy as this castle makes me feel, I would endure a thousand times worse and more to be at your side.”
“I cannot deny you anything you should want, not even this,” he said. “Very well.”
“What shall you do while I am at tea?”
“I might find a brothel,”
Alysane blanched, and her heart dropped into her stomach. Still, she had sworn that she would honor Oberyn’s wild heart, and forgive him if he strayed.
“Oh,” she said lightly, trying to disguise her wounded heart.
“Not for that,” he said gently. “It is a place for men to gossip and drink. Many Lannister guards frequent a place not too far from the palace, I’m told.”
“By whom?”
“Lord Varys, at the feast last night.”
“Which one was he?”
“The bald headed one, he reeked of lavender oil.”
“Oh yes,” Alysane said, picturing the soft spoken man with plump cheeks and hands as buttery soft as velvet when he took hers. “I cannot for the life of me understand why they call him The Spider.”
“I imagine it has something to do with him being the king’s Master of Whispers. It’s his job to collect the realm’s gossip and bring anything of importance to the king.”
“I see,” Alysane said.
“He probably has some poor child hiding in the walls listening to all the guests here for the betrothal ceremony.”
Just then, Eria tapped lightly on the door.
“Enter,” Alysane said.
“Beg pardon, My Lady,” Eria said. “The King sent a message to the Prince.”
Oberyn raised his eyebrows.
“Yes?” he said.
“He invited him to take in the air on the southern terrace once he’s up and dressed for the morning,” Eria said, averting her eyes. Alysane realized that Oberyn was still naked beneath the sheets.
I wonder if there’s time before I must dress for breaking fast…
“I can hardly refuse a royal invitation,” Oberyn said softly. “Would you tell Jerold to find me in my chambers in an hour?”
Eria nodded, and then curtsied before backing out of the room.
“I’m surprised the king is awake at this hour,” Oberyn said, sitting back in bed.
“Perhaps he never went to sleep,” Alysane said with a wicked grin, rolling on top of him.
Oberyn wasted no time pulling her sleeping shift over her head and covering her body in kisses. His hungry lips traced endless paths over her breasts and neck before finally settling between her thighs.
“Oberyn,” Alysane whispered desperately as his tongue made its way between her folds. “Oberyn,” she whispered again, grabbing a handful of his hair as he made her writhe and squirm with pleasure. Each time she whispered his name, his throat vibrated with sounds of excitement; not quite a growl, but a primal animal sound that vibrated against her, and made Alysane’s arms break out in gooseflesh.
In what seemed like no time at all, Eria was back. She was quite used to finding Oberyn and Alysane in many different positions, but Alysane still bid Oberyn to stop.
“I plan on finishing what I started,” he said with a mischievous grin. “But I will leave you to your primping,” he said. “Enjoy your morning with the queen.”
Alysane shot him a look, but did not say anything.
Eria brushed Alysane’s hair and began to braid it.
“No,” Alysane said, and a small slightly wicked smile spread across her lips. “Please curl it, but leave it loose. I have no wish to look like all of the other ladies in the capital.”
“Are you sure, My Lady? Court Gossip can be… Harsh.”
“I do not have any friends at court as it is,” Alysane said. “I cannot miss what I never had. I played the part last night, but today, I will be myself.”
A short while later, Lady Anissa arrived in Alysane’s bedchambers. She sprawled across Alyane’s bed as Eria finished dressing her in a brilliant yellow gown emblazoned with the Martell Sunburst in deep orange silk thread.
“Before I was wed, I went to a mask ball here in the capital ,” she said. “I had hoped for some gaiety to rival it, but I suppose breaking my fast with the queen shall have to do.” She rolled over onto her side. “Do you think the King and Queen still fuck?”
“You’ve been spending too much time with Arianne.”
“It’s dreadfully boring when you and Oberyn are gone, and she’s a good card player,” Anissa pouted. “I know I shouldn’t speak out of turn, but I’m surprised the queen doesn’t have a cloud of snow following behind her.”
“You shouldn’t speak out of turn,” Alysane said. “The walls have ears.”
“An old spinster’s tale. How can someone spy on you in a room like this?”
“Haven’t you ever heard the stories about how Maegar the cruel had all the stone masons who built the red keep killed so no one could ever learn of its secrets? I’m sure there’s a dozen secret chambers between your rooms and ours.”
“Fine,” Anissa said, rolling her eyes. “How is Oberyn handling being back in the capital?”
“He misses his sister,” she said, unwilling to speak much more about it.
“Will there be anything else my lady?”
“No, thank you,” Alysane said. “Shall we join the queen?”
Anissa stood up and together, the two of them made their way to the small hall, where the queen sat at a long mahogany table piled high with fruit and pastries, platters of bacon and potatoes.
From the doorway, Alysane curtsied before the queen.
“Approach,” Queen Cersei said. Alysane made her way across the hall, stopping a few yards away from the queen and curtsied again. As she raised her eyes, she took in the queen: She wore a magnificent morning robe of crimson silk, embroidered with golden threads in swirling patterns of crossing swords and prancing lions. Beneath it, her gown was mustard yellow with a black beaded bodice. Her long golden hair was again piled atop her head in a stack of intricate braids.
“Your Grace,” Alysane said demurely. “May I present Lady Anissa Wyll, of Dorne.”
“It is an honor to meet you, Your Grace,” Anissa said, bending down in a graceful curtsy.
“Welcome to King’s Landing, Lady Anissa. Is this your first time in the capital?”
“No, I came here several times as a girl.”
Cersei’s cool smile hardened a fraction. Alysane could see her mental calculations as she tried to determine Anissa’s age.
“I was good friends with Elia Martell.”
Cersei did not blink, but Alysane saw the way her fingers gripped the arm of her heavy mahogany chair.
“Well, please join me at the table,” Cersei said.
“You are most gracious my queen.”
“Grace has nothing to do with it. I’m nosey.”
The servaants moved around them, serving tea and honey cakes, bacon and boiled potatoes seasoned with salt and drowned in butter, flaky pastries and soft boiled eggs.
“I’m sorry, your grace?”
“You and the Prince have been quite the talk of the court this last season or two,” the queen said, dunking a spoonful of honey in her tea. “The love match,” she said.
“I think no one was as surprised as I was, my queen.”
“Hmm,” Cersei said. “Away with you all,” she barked at her servants. They left the room instantly. “The late princess of Dorne once wished to pact me to your beloved in marriage.”
“Prince Oberyn told me.”
“Did he?”
“He tells me all, your grace. There are no secrets between us.”
“Spoken like a young newly wed,” Queen Cersei said, her smile growing tight. “All men have secrets.”
“Perhaps,” Alysane relented, unwilling to argue with the queen. “I should think it worked out all right in the end for both of you,” she said. “You are queen of the seven kingdoms.”
“Yes,” Queen Cersei said, her spine straightening a fraction. She turned to lady Anissa. “And you, what of your lord husband?”
“He is bannerman to House Martell.”
“How lovely. Is that how you two became friends?”
“Yes, your Grace. We hosted the Prince and his lady wife on the last leg of their journey from the North. Lady Alysane and I became friends, and so Lord Wyll and Prince Oberyn are forced to mingle.”
“They like one another,” Alysane chastised Anissa with a smile, but then she looked back at the queen. “Forgive me, your grace. We do not wish to bore you.”
“No, no, I so rarely get to spend time with ladies who actually like one another.”
“Oh?”
“Yes,” Queen Cersei said. “Most are here to play the game.”
“The game?”
“Yes,” Cersei said. “The game of thrones. They wish to climb the ranks into my inner circle, so they may have some influence on the crown.”
“That must be very difficult for you,” Alysane said softly.
“Yes,” Cersei said. “It’s difficult to know who to trust.”
Everything Alysane was told about Cersei seemed to be wrong. She was cold, yes, but how could she be anything else, with false friends all around her? Did Alysane not slip on her own frozen mask when it suited her needs?
Or is this one of the games? Alysane thought.
Everything Alysane knew of the queen was second hand from Oberyn and his family, or from passing comments by Lord Stark when they were hosted at Winterfell, or when they hosted the Starks at Winterbrook. Lord Stark was once friends with King Robert when they were boys. Robert was betrothed to Lyanna, Lord Stark’s sister… And Rhaegar Targaryen, whom Cersei once hoped to wed, stole Lyanna away, forsaking his own marriage vows to Oberyn’s sister. That started a war… And that war ended with Cersei wed to Robert, and Elia and Lyanna in their graves.
“Lady Alysane?”
Alysane gave herself a mental shake realizing that the Queen was looking at her expectantly.
“Forgive me, my queen,” Alysane said slowly, organizing her thoughts. “I was looking at the painting,” she lied, nodding over the Queen’s shoulder. In truth, she only noticed it in that moment, but Queen Cersei took no notice of the lie. It depicted the queen with her long golden hair piled atop her head, a deep crimson and gold gown, and a cold, haughty look on her face. Next to her stood the king, though it was clear the painting was from the early days of his reign. Alysane could see why the spoke about how handsome he was; broad shoulders, black hair, and a fierce look in his eyes. “Is it your wedding portrait?”
“Yes,” the Queen said boredly. “It was painted shortly after we were wed.”
“It is lovely,” Alysane said. “Crimson suits your grace.”
“Lannister colors,” she said absently. “I don’t look good in yellow. I don’t have your coloring.”
“You flatter me, your grace.”
“It is not flattery. It is not hard to see how you managed to tame the viper,” Queen Cersei said. “You are exceedingly lovely.”
“Thank you, your grace,” Alysane said, her cheeks heating.
“Oh and you blush, how darling.” Cersei said. “The other ladies at court will love you.”
“I do hope so, your grace,” Alysane said softly. “Prince Oberyn and I do hope that a friendship might blossom between our two houses. With Prince Tristane and Princess Myrcella’s betrothal-”
“I haven’t agreed to that yet,” The queen cut in coldly.
“Forgive me your grace, I thought we were invited here to make it official.”
“No, you were invited here so I may look at the boy my husband wishes to sell my daughter to.”
Alysane fixed her face in a mask of cool grace, hiding her true feelings behind it.
“Lady Anissa,” the queen said suddenly. “You and your husband, was it a love match?”
“In a way,” Anissa said, looking surprised that the queen spoke to her. “We were children together and when I came of age to marry, I couldn’t imagine anyone else.”
“How sweet,” Queen Cersei replied. She glanced back up at the painting, and something passed across her face.
“Are you all right, your grace?”
“Yes,” she said softly. “My apologies, I was just thinking,” she cleared her throat. “No matter,” the queen pushed her chair back from the table and suddenly the servants returned, clearing away the plates, even though Anissa was still eating. “Thank you ladies, we must do this again.”
“Of course, my queen,” Alysane said, perplexed. The queen swept from the room and Alysane and Anissa made their way back to the guest corridors.
“What do you think upset the queen so?” Anissa asked as Eria brought them a flagon of wine. They took their goblets outside on the terrace, enjoying the morning’s warmth.
“It’s impossible to say,” Alysane said. “I know very little about her, other than what Oberyn has told me.”
“There’s little love for the Lannisters in Dorne,” Anissa said in a low voice. “You have to wonder though…”
“Wonder what?”
Anissa took a long sip of her wine.
“I am speaking out of turn,” she said.
“I thought we were closer than that,” Alysane said.
“The king has more than a dozen bastards,” Anissa whispered. “It makes you wonder…”
“Powerful men will always do whatever they wish,” Alysane said. “Oberyn has eight bastards. It does not make me love him less.”
“I do not think it is love between the king and queen,” Anissa said, her voice so low that Alysane barely heard her.
“It’s not for us to say,” Alysane said.
“No,” Anissa said. “It’s not.”
“Do you think we’ll be invited to sup with the queen again?”
“Perhaps,” Anissa said, looking out at the Blackwater river. “If it is the queen’s pleasure.”