THE DRAGON'S DAUGHTER I ROBB STARK

A Cage of Swords

A Cage of Swords

Before

Holding her breath, Alys stood before the Iron Throne, eyes wide with wonder. Here, she'd observed her father in a thousand moods, the throne of swords forming an imposing backdrop to her memories. Sometimes her father would slump down in its seat, exhausted by burdens he had not been born to bear. Or sometimes he would sit on the stone steps leading up the throne, the gesture jarringly boyish; with a wench on his knee and a roguish grin wreathing his handsome face, his large hand brandishing a tankard of beer instead of his famous hammer. But most of all he would sit upon the Iron Throne in state, brow furrowed, the crown heavy on his head; the throne casting a long shadow, engulfing empires. Yet despite its darkness, the Iron Throne continued to entice Alys, the child unaware it would always be out of her reach, her bastard blood ensuring it was so.

But in this moment, nothing barred her way, the throne seemingly hers for the taking, Alys taking a tentative step forwards, then another, and another, her small feet struggling up the steps, Alys falling over once or twice, before picking herself up again, steadying her wobbling lower lip as she did, having long learned that her tears only served to invoke violence, especially from her stepmother, her heavily ringed hand striking Alys at the slightest provocation.

Alys stood in frightened awe of Cersei, bedazzled by her golden beauty, her stepmother bearing a strong resemblance to the illustrations of the beautiful highborn maidens from the ancient tales of chivalry Alys liked to look at. She was unable to read the faded print of the tattered manuscripts, her father failing to exert himself in terms of her education, only employing a series of indifferent septas who haphazardly attended to Aly's needs. After the last septa had been dismissed for drunkenness, Alys was now served by Septa Berdell, a surprisingly young woman with navy eyes and dark eyebrows that collided with her pale hair hidden beneath her head-dress, her waistline threatening towards plumpness, the septa not above casting covetous glances at the king whenever she thought she wasn't being observed.

Biting her lip, Alys hesitated, staring at the swords fanning high above her, suddenly frozen with fear at what Septa Berdell would do if she found her in the forbidden throne room, having swiftly discovered that the septa could deliver a hard slap just as well as Cersei. Glancing around her, Alys felt her nerve slipping, the drapes of black velvet swathing the walls seeming to suffocate what little light was in the room, drowning her in darkness.

The kingdom had been plunged into mourning for the little black-browed prince Cersei had borne Robert six months before, a matter Alys had shown scant interest in, the baby stealing whatever intermittent interest her father had shown in her. But the child had unexpectedly died several nights ago, sending the court spiraling into chaos, Cersei hysterical, Robert beating his hands bloody against the wall, Alys hiding under her bed, terrified, her small world tumbling down around her ears. She had seen the small bundle being carried away by the maester, Alys unable to understand death, only that the blue-eyed boy she'd reluctantly called brother was suddenly and inexplicably still.

For a long moment, Alys just stood there, the Iron Throne seeming to whirl above her. Suddenly, she staggered up the last remaining steps, becoming seized by a reckless resolve. But as she did, she tripped on the top step, flinging out her hand to catch herself, catching the edge of one of the swords instead, cutting her palm. With a sharp cry, Alys reeled back, grabbing her injured hand with the other, the blood seeping through her fingers, staining her skin.

"Get down from there!" a voice demanded from the doorway, making Aly's head snap up, startled, only to see Jaime Lannister standing in the shadows. "You have no right to even be in here!" he said through gritted teeth, sheathing his sword upon seeing the intruder was nothing more than his brother-in-law's bastard.