chapter five !
parted but never alone
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AEMOND, 126 AC
It was going to be a horrible day, Aemond decided. Much worse than the day he realized his dragon egg was never going to hatch. Worse than when Aegon first started to torment him. Worse than when Rhaenyra's sons hatched their dragons. No, this day was the epitome of terrible days because it was the day that Alayne was leaving.
He'd woken that morning filled with dread, and a pain in his knee besides. It was only the pains of growing, his mother told him when he'd mentioned it at breakfast. No matter what it was, it was annoying.
Aemond did not want to endure the ride in the wheelhouse that morning, nor did he want to bid Alayne farewell. If he could, he'd stow away on the ship and make the journey with her.
The wheelhouse bumped along the rocky cobblestone street of King's Landing, jostling Aemond as he sat next to his brothers and sister. Across from him was Alayne next to his father, who'd insisted he was well enough to come with them.
Alayne sat quietly, hands clasped together in her lap. Today, she wore a gown more suited for sea travel, the dark blue fabric made for warmth against the chilled winds coming off the water. Her hair seemed darker, too, the burnished gold rubbed into dullness. She seemed dreary, still twirling her ring round her thumb, and Aemond was secretly glad that her mood matched his.
But if he was being truly honest, he worried about her. He might be young and a part of the royal family, but as a Targaryen born in the midst of his siblings and not having a dragon made it easier for him to go unnoticed in most situations. This gave him the opportunity to observe those around him, to understand them.
It was especially easier yesterday when Alayne was being introduced to the Royces. She was nervous, that much was obvious, but she desperately tried to hide it. Gerold and Gunthor saw that, too. While the former took charge in leading, the latter studied. Perhaps it was always the duty of the second son to do so. Ser Gunthor watched every move Alayne made, from the gracious nod of her head when she met Robar to the downward cast of her eyes when Willam did not greet her.
Speaking of Alayne's other cousins, Aemond disliked them both. The younger of the two, Willam, didn't seem to appreciate Alayne in the slightest, so Aemond was immediately wary about him. Robar, however, seemed too friendly, too accepting, and that made Aemond suspicious. If Alayne grew too comfortable around her other family, would she want to stay with them instead? Would they take her away from him?
Aemond had an indifferent opinion about Lord Jakob Mormont. He neither liked nor hated the man. Only time would tell how Aemond's opinion of him would develop.
When Ser Gerold had said that they would be departing the next day, every muscle in Aemond's body had gone rigid. He couldn't move, couldn't think. Then he'd seen a similar reaction in Alayne, only different. While she had frozen, only her shoulders and chest had moved with her breathing, and it was very panicked breathing.
Of course, Rhaenyra had come to the rescue. She led Alayne from the room with the excuse of packing, but Aemond knew better. He'd seen how his cousin had reacted to the sudden news, how her fingers twitched and hands shook, absolutely aching to release the tension within her.
When Aemond was very young, his first memory was the bleeding of his mother's fingers from her constantly picking at the skin around her nails. At first, he'd thought it was a bad habit, but as he grew, he realized that it was a result of worriment and uneasiness. Since then, whenever Aemond saw his mother's nerves emerge, he'd ask her a question to distract her and put an end to her stress.
It worked most of the time.
After his half-sister had taken Alayne away, the queen had approached her older cousins and asked to speak with them while the younger men were shown to the guest quarters. She, Lord Lyonel, and the king all went into the Small Council chambers and were not seen again until the dinner that night.
And what an unusual dinner it had been. Delicious as always, perhaps slightly more grand for the benefit of their guests, but everyone seemed slightly on edge, as if they were ready to jump out of their seats at any moment. Nothing out of the ordinary had occurred, but the queen had seemed quite pleased with whatever the outcome was of the meeting with Sers Gerold and Gunthor.
Now, in the wheelhouse, his mother still seemed content.
They arrived at the royal harbor on Blackwater Bay a few hours before the sun reached its highest point in the sky, for the Royces wanted to get a good start on their journey. Everyone gathered where they had just days ago when they waited for Alayne's arrival, and the young Lady of Runestone bid her farewells, starting with Rhaenyra.
His sister bent down and gently embraced her cousin, avoiding her injured shoulder that had been bandaged with extra cloth to prevent her gown from rubbing. Rhaenyra whispered a few words into Alayne's ear, and the younger girl's eyes grew glassy.
Next was Ser Laenor, who also hugged his niece, but he had wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her from the ground, her slippered feet dangling in the air. She'd apparently grown quite close to him as well.
Once she was back on the rough sandstone, she kissed both Jace and Luke on their round cheeks, which instantly reddened, the blush spreading across their noses. Aemond wanted to roll his eyes at the childishness of it, but he had to admit, his face would have also turned red if she kissed his cheek.
The king also accepted a kiss from her, and he clucked her under the chin affectionately. Alicent had grasped Alayne's hands, a smile gracing her lips, and said that she was sure they would see her much more in the years to come.
Aegon gave her a bow of the head, but he didn't interact with her on a physical level. Aemond was glad for that. Helaena allowed her to hold her hand, and as was her way, his sister offered her the words, "Parting makes way for change."
One of her least confusing utterings.
Then it was his turn. Alayne met his gaze, a sad smile on her face, and she hugged him tightly, the cloak around her shoulders brushing his legs in the blowing wind.
"I shall miss you, cousin," she whispered before retreating from his embrace. "Can I write to you?"
Aemond nodded. "I would like that. We can practice in Valyrian."
Alayne grinned widely, her blackberry eyes turning a plum color in the morning light. "I shall see you in a year."
And with that, after pressing a hand to Daeron's cheek in farewell, Aemond watched his newest and truest friend walk back up the gangway, just as she had before.
As they left the harbor, Alayne stood at the stern of the small ship, waving her good arm above her head as she went to stand on a crate so she could be seen. Robar stood nearby and moved to offer a hand to help her up. He held onto her so she would not fall, his larger hand clutching her smaller one tightly.
It was odd how they became familiar so quickly. Perhaps it was because Robar was older and remembered her as a baby during his youth. He would have been around twelve when she was born, so it would make sense for him to be protective of her.
It concerned Aemond, for Alayne to have someone to turn to other than himself, but he still lifted a hand and waved back as the ship went out to sea.
When he returned to his chambers in the Red Keep, he saw a small chest sitting on his desk, along with a note. Aemond opened the folded parchment and read its contents, a single line of neat script:
"I thought that they should stay together."
Confusion created a knot between his brows, but when he lifted the lid of the chest, every doubt or concern disappeared.
Nestled on a bed of linen next to his bronze and green egg was Alayne's gold and cream one, left for him to look after.
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ALAYNE, 126 AC
The waves crashed against the side of the ship in a fury, sending Alayne to brace herself so she wouldn't topple over. These past few days were filled with overcast skies, light rain showers, and semi-decent conversation with her family. Well, perhaps from only Robar and his father, Gunthor. Gerold and Willam were often distant, the latter more than the former.
Then there was Lord Jakob. He was kind and funny, often telling jokes to make Alayne smile. In the first days of their journey, she didn't do much of that. Her time was spent ignoring the others and drafting letters so they could be sent when they reached land. She often had to start over due to the annoying tears that fell without her permission.
How her mother and father would hate to know that she'd been crying. She was old enough that she shouldn't be expressing tears, wasn't she? Even if it was acceptable at her age, Alayne was the oldest of her sisters, and now she was the head of her own house. Ruling ladies do not cry.
In truth, she had not been crying due to the sadness of leaving, but because she was angry. At first, she had been spiraling and emotional because everything was out of her control. But as she settled and slowly adapted to the change, Alayne was ready to spew fire. How dare the Royces force her to depart early and disrupt her schedule. How dare they use her injury as an excuse to whisk her away. And how dare they suddenly treat her as if she was a child that was meant to be seen and not heard.
Well, Alayne was still technically a child, but may every god damn her cousins if they thought she would not be heard.
She was a Targaryen as much as she was a Royce, and the blood of the dragon burned within her veins.
But in the last days of their trip, only one of her cousins—not including Jakob, as he was not yet a cousin by marriage—would make the effort to get to know Alayne.
Robar was almost twice her age, as she came to discover. But while Gerold's wife Rowena had been Rhea's heir, and Alayne's up until her death, Robar was at the end of the direct line of inheritance. Four people would have to die for him to be Lord of Runestone, and that would still not be likely to happen. While Gerold and Willam were snubbed of an inheritance, Robar was not, so he had no qualms with his younger cousin.
As the boat approached the dock, finally putting an end to the harsh rocking that upset her stomach, Robar sat next to Alayne on a pile of crates, his father standing behind them. Gerold was ordering the few men he brought, having them gather Alayne's belongings. Willam stood a good distance away, his eyes dark and permanently in a glare.
Observing her older cousins with a tilt of her head, Alayne asked, "Have they always been so..." She paused, searching for the right word. "Tense?"
"Not always, my lady," Gunthor sighed. "Since Rowena's death, both my brother and Willam have been out of sorts. I was the same when my wife passed after birthing Myranda."
Alayne nodded. "Of course. Forgive me, I'd forgotten momentarily."
"No need for apologies. You didn't know her like we did. To you, Rowena was words on parchment. To us, she was someone we'd grown up with. It was the same with Rhea," Gunthor said mournfully, then chuckled. "We used to torment her, your mother. Jealousy, at first, but then it became great fun."
"What was she like?" Alayne asked, looking up at him. His gray beard had grown unruly in the days past. Even Robar had a dusting of stubble. "My father never spoke of her."
Gunthor shook his head, eyes hardening. "No, I didn't think he would. What do you want to know?"
The boat came to a halt, and Gunthor offered Alayne a hand. She gratefully took it and stood as she said, "Everything. I only know her as the woman who birthed me, not my mother. The only mother I've ever known is Lady Laena."
"Lady Laena's graciousness was well-known throughout the realm, to be sure. But your mother—that is, Rhea—was known for her stubbornness, her generosity, and her loyalty. She loved to hunt and ride; it was one of the only times she was filled with pure joy," Gunthor mused as he descended from the ship with his son and Alayne at his side. "There was only thing she loved more than her horses or bow."
Now on the wooden dock, much more crude than the stone at the royal port in King's Landing but still sturdy and well-built, Alayne glanced up at Gunthor, curiosity shining in her eyes. "What?"
"You," he said, full of sorrow and remorse. "She loved you more than anything else in the world. You used to follow her around the castle once you learned to walk. It is my one regret in life that I was not as kind or as tolerant of her while she was alive."
He stopped then, turning to face Alayne completely, and bent to one knee. Now at eye-level with her, he could speak to her directly and whole-heartedly. "I promise you, Lady Alayne, that you have my unwavering devotion, loyalty, and protection as long as I live. You do not know me very well and may not trust me fully, but I hope to change that in the months to come. Our words are 'We Remember,' for we never forget what has been done to us, and more importantly we never forget who we are and what we come from. We are the blood of the First Men, and our duty is to each other."
Alayne blinked. The wind blew strands of her hair across her face, but she didn't pay them any mind. The men from the ship passed by her, but they were of no concern to her, not even when Willam looked down his nose at her. No, Alayne's eyes were locked on Gunthor's, for no one had ever declared such fidelity to her. No one had treated her as anything other than a child until now.
But there were still doubts poking at her from the back of her mind.
"What if no one else believes such things?" She asked, keeping her chin locked and not trembling.
Gunthor sighed, placing a hand on her shoulder. "My brother and nephew are in a dark place now, but they will soon come to realize the same as I. The moment I saw you, I saw your mother, her strength and gentleness. You may be a Targaryen and look similarly to them, but you are Lady Royce. Half of you is Valyrian steel, but the other half is bronze. You embody that without even knowing, just as your mother did. Once everyone knows you, they will see what I see."
Alayne didn't speak, couldn't speak. She didn't know what to say in response to that, so she nodded slightly and whispered, "Thank you, cousin."
Shaking his head, Gunthor huffed a laugh. "Your mother didn't often show her emotions either, unless it was annoyance or when it was with you. You may find that you're a lot like her than you realize."
He stood, his brother just passing by, and bowed before joining Gerold at the head of the traveling party. Next to her, Robar offered his arm to Alayne as they made their way up the stone walkway that led to the castle. And what a castle it was.
It wasn't as large as the Red Keep, of course, more closely to the size of the manse that her family was staying in in Pentos. But unlike the manse, Runestone was built from sturdy, gray blocks of stone on the side of the cliff, the main part of the castle at the base of a tall, symmetrical square tower. Some castles had random towers sporadically built around the main keep, which Alayne thought was ridiculous and overwhelming, but the sight of Runestone created a warmth in her chest. She was glad it was pleasing to the eye.
The weather was bleak and dull, and perhaps slightly more chilly than King's Landing or Pentos, but Alayne could tolerate it, and perhaps get used to it, in the future. Besides, this was hers, and she'd never lived in a place that she could call her own. They'd lived as permanent guests and travelers for her entire life. She couldn't even call the Red Keep home.
But Runestone she could, in time. For Alayne knew home as where her heart was, and her heart was with her family.
Maybe eventually, she would be able to call the Royces her family by anything other than blood.
The group entered the castle, which had fireplaces in every room and hall, thankfully. Alayne was led to the Great Hall, where two young women stood at the end of the line of servants and men. One was slightly taller and flaming red curls cascaded down her shoulders that were clothed in a deep green dress. The other was wearing bright blue and had half of her silken brown locks pinned back in a neat hairstyle. It was not difficult to understand that this was Josslyn Arryn, for she had one hand resting gently on the swell of her pregnant belly.
At Alayne's side, Robar grinned and rushed forward to embrace his wife. Even Jakob, who had been walking behind her, greeted the red-headed Myranda with a kiss to the back of her hand.
Gunthor, this time, introduced Alayne to his daughter and good-daughter instead of Gerold, who stood rigidly to the side.
Josslyn curtsied as well as she was able, offering Alayne a gracious and genuine smile. Myranda, on the other hand, stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the smaller girl, taking note of the bandages sticking out from underneath the neckline of her dress. She squeezed Alayne tightly before releasing her.
"Cousin Alayne, it is an honor to meet you. I would have gone with the men, but someone thought his wife wasn't able to look after herself and had me stay behind," she targeted toward her older brother, elbowing him in the side.
Alayne liked Myranda already.
"I didn't want her to be alone," Robar defended himself, placing a hand over the sore spot on his torso. "I never said she wasn't able to take care of herself."
Myranda lifted her nose into the air. "It was implied."
Robar turned to the lord of Bear Island. "Jakob, my good-brother to be, will you please take my side on this?"
Jakob only tilted his head back and laughed. "I dare not," he drawled. "Your sister would have my head if I did."
"Traitor," Robar muttered, accepting an affectionate hug from his wife. "Willam?"
The other young Royce had been standing near his father, arms crossed over his broad chest. His dirty blonde hair seemed darker now that they were in the Vale.
Willam scoffed, and Alayne prepared herself for eye-rolling negativity. He'd been nothing but derogatory and impolite since they'd met, and Alayne reminded herself to keep clear of him. However, when a grin formed after the huff of annoyance, she was taken aback.
"I'm not sure," he sighed, the smirk lighting up his gloominess. "What's in it for me?"
Robar groaned, a hand absent-mindedly moving to rest on Josslyn's belly. "I'll train the recruits for a week."
"Three."
"Two."
From her spot next to Myranda, the woman's arm still around her shoulders, Alayne watched as her cousins bartered and joked in absolute awe. Her father had told her how the Royces were stuck up pigs. Well, he didn't use the word pigs, but her mother Laena didn't want Alayne to repeat what her father actually said.
At first, Alayne had been apprehensive about her cousins, but now that she's seeing them through her own eyes instead of her father's, she would have to make her own assumptions, and so far, they have been quite different.
And now, during her year at Runestone, she will have to discover what it means to be both Royce and Targaryen.
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