Chapter 13 – Gathering Storm
Alyssa leaned back against the cushioned seat of her carriage and closed her eyes for a moment.
Get it together, she scolded herself.
The faint warmth still lingering in her cheeks was embarrassing enough. The fact that Margaery Tyrell had managed to fluster her so easily was worse.
She was Lady of Moat Cailin.
She negotiated trade agreements, commanded soldiers, redesigned fortifications, and outmaneuvered merchants twice her age.
And yet one Tyrell girl smiling at her and kissing her hand had left her sitting in a carriage trying to remember how to breathe normally.
Alyssa groaned quietly and covered her face with one hand.
"Gods, that was ridiculous."
But beneath the embarrassment was something else.
Something warmer.
Because the girl who had made her blush like a fool was Margaery Tyrell.
One of the few characters from the show she had genuinely liked.
A girl who had deserved a far better ending than the one she had received.
And now that same girl... liked her.
Alyssa dropped her hand and looked out the carriage window.
King's Landing spread around her in all its chaotic life.
Vendors shouted.
Children ran between carts.
Sailors staggered through streets that smelled of salt, smoke, and too many people packed too close together.
It was vibrant.
Alive.
And in a few short years... it would be in chaos.
Alyssa sighed.
Her mind moved back through the day.
The Tyrell luncheon.
Vivienne's sudden appearance.
Olenna's sharp eyes.
And then Varys.
That conversation still lingered in her thoughts.
Too many things were shifting.
Too many pieces moving in ways she hadn't expected.
And she still had one meeting left she truly did not want to deal with.
Queen Cersei.
Alyssa leaned her head back against the carriage wall again.
"Wonderful," she muttered. "I'm not nearly drunk enough for all this shit."
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Several days passed.
During that time, the quiet war Alyssa had begun in King's Landing continued.
Kael moved efficiently through the city's shadows, purchasing or quietly acquiring several of Littlefinger's brothels through a web of intermediaries. Ownership shifted without drawing too much attention.
Money changed hands.
Information began flowing in new directions.
Meanwhile Lyra oversaw the movement of children.
Ships left King's Landing harbor under legitimate trade banners—each carrying groups of orphans bound northward.
Food, clothing, and a chance at a future waited for them at Moat Cailin.
The city never noticed their absence.
But Alyssa did.
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Alyssa and Margaery met again during those days.
At first the meetings were casual.
A walk through gardens.
A shared meal.
Conversations that drifted easily from politics to books to ridiculous court gossip.
Margaery had a way of making people feel at ease.
Alyssa found herself laughing more often than she expected.
Which only made things worse when Vivienne inevitably appeared.
Uninvited.
Every time.
The third time it happened, Alyssa groaned quietly under her breath as Vivienne strolled into the garden like she owned the place.
"Am I interrupting something?" Vivienne asked pleasantly.
"Yes," Margaery said immediately.
Vivienne ignored her.
Alyssa sighed. "I'm starting to think I should bring wine whenever I meet either of you," she muttered under her breath.
Margaery heard it and laughed softly. "If it helps," she said with playful sympathy, "most people require wine to survive Tyrell gatherings. Vivienne especially."
"Noted," Alyssa replied dryly.
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Later that same afternoon, Alyssa stood in her chambers preparing for a far less pleasant meeting.
Queen Cersei Lannister.
Her attendants adjusted the final details of her gown while Alyssa studied her reflection in the mirror.
Her expression was calm.
But her mind was already preparing for battle.
Because unlike flirting Tyrells and rival sisters...
Cersei Lannister was a danger Alyssa understood very well.
Earlier that day both Tyrell women had made that abundantly clear.
Margaery had grown unusually serious when the topic came up. "Be careful with the Queen," she had told Alyssa quietly. "She does not forget insults, real or imagined."
And Olenna had been even more blunt.
"Smile," the older woman had advised dryly. "Agree with nothing. Promise nothing. And remember that lions smile before they bite."
Alyssa exhaled slowly at the memory.
Yes.
This meeting would require far more caution than surviving Tyrell sisters.
The Red Keep rose above the city like a crimson crown.
Alyssa's carriage rolled through the gates beneath the watchful eyes of Lannister guards. She stepped down a moment later, smoothing her skirts before allowing herself to be escorted inside.
The halls of the castle were exactly as she remembered them from the show—grand, polished, and heavy with quiet power.
And waiting at the far end of the solar was Queen Cersei Lannister.
Golden hair. Green eyes. A lioness seated on her throne-like chair with perfect composure.
Ser Jaime Lannister stood nearby, one hand resting lightly on the pommel of his sword. His green eyes watched Alyssa with careful interest as she approached.
So that's the girl, he seemed to be thinking.
Alyssa stopped at the proper distance and dipped into a respectful curtsy.
"Your Grace," she said calmly.
Cersei's gaze swept over her slowly.
Assessing.
Judging.
"Lady Alyssa Stark," Cersei replied. "I have heard quite a lot about you."
Alyssa rose smoothly and gestured to the servant beside her, who stepped forward carrying a small velvet box.
"A token of respect," Alyssa said.
The box was opened.
Inside rested an exquisite necklace of gold and crimson gems, the centerpiece shaped in the elegant form of a lion—the sigil of House Lannister.
Even Cersei's practiced composure shifted slightly at the craftsmanship.
Jaime's brow lifted in quiet approval.
"A thoughtful gift," Cersei said carefully.
Alyssa inclined her head.
"The lion seemed appropriate for the Queen of the realm."
Cersei studied the girl more closely now.
There was no simpering flattery in her voice.
No weakness.
Just respectful confidence.
Interesting.
Alyssa held the queen's gaze calmly while, beneath the surface, she focused on something else entirely.
Her magic stirred faintly.
Carefully.
Subtly.
Like Wanda Maximoff had done in the films she remembered, Alyssa brushed lightly against Cersei's mind.
Not enough to alarm her.
Just enough to listen.
Fragments of thought flickered through.
Another girl trying to play at power...
Too young.
Too bold.
Then another thought, colder and sharper.
But clever.
Cersei's mind continued to turn as she studied Alyssa.
She rebuilt a ruin into a fortress.
Fed the North.
And she refuses to bend to men.
A trace of reluctant respect slipped through the queen's thoughts.
Stubborn little wolf.
Alyssa withdrew her power before the contact could linger too long.
Cersei leaned back slightly in her chair, fingers resting lightly on the lion necklace now placed in her palm.
"You have accomplished quite a great deal for someone so young," she said.
Alyssa allowed herself a small smile.
"The North has always valued hard work, Your Grace."
Cersei expected arrogance.
Or fear.
Instead she found neither.
Against her better judgment...
She found herself beginning to respect the girl.
And that, perhaps more than anything, irritated her.
Cersei's lips curved slightly, though the smile held little warmth.
"Tell me, Lady Stark," she said, voice smooth as silk, "do you always accomplish so much without the guidance of men? Or is there some northern lord quietly claiming credit for your work?"
Jaime's gaze flicked briefly to Alyssa, curious how she would answer.
Alyssa met the queen's eyes without flinching.
"The North has many capable men," she said evenly. "But they work with me, not above me."
Cersei's brow arched.
"How unusual," she said lightly.
Inside her mind Alyssa caught another flicker of thought.
Or perhaps enviable.
Cersei tapped one manicured finger against the lion pendant.
"You have made Moat Cailin prosperous," the queen continued. "Fed your people. Built schools. Quite impressive for someone so young."
A pause.
"Tell me," Cersei added casually, "how does a girl accomplish all that without a husband advising her?"
Alyssa smiled faintly.
"By not having one."
Jaime huffed a quiet laugh before catching himself.
Cersei's green eyes flashed toward him briefly before returning to Alyssa.
Sharp tongue, Cersei thought. Bold. Too bold.
But the thought that followed surprised even herself.
Good.
"You sound rather certain of your independence," Cersei said.
"I am," Alyssa replied simply.
Cersei studied her for several long seconds.
"Men do not like women who refuse to be ruled," the queen said softly.
Alyssa tilted her head slightly.
"Then it is fortunate," she replied, "that I do not plan to ask their permission."
Jaime actually laughed this time.
Cersei shot him a look that might have melted iron, though the faintest hint of amusement tugged at the corner of her mouth.
Gods, she thought irritably, I should despise this girl.
Instead she found herself studying Alyssa with reluctant approval.
A young woman who had built power with her own hands.
Who bowed with respect but refused to crawl.
Cersei understood that kind of stubborn pride all too well.
"Be careful in King's Landing, Lady Stark," Cersei said finally. "Many men here would consider your success... inconvenient."
Alyssa dipped her head politely.
"Then I suppose I should be grateful I am not easily inconvenienced. After all," Alyssa added with a small, sharp smile, "if lions have teeth, it's a good thing wolves do too."
For a brief moment the room went still.
Then, to Jaime's visible surprise, Cersei laughed—an actual, genuine laugh that softened her features.
"Careful, little wolf," she said, still amused. "You may find lions enjoy a creature that bites back."
Jaime watched the exchange with renewed interest, realizing this meeting had become far more entertaining than he expected."
Cersei's laughter faded, though the amusement lingered in her eyes.
"Since we are speaking so frankly," the queen said, voice light but probing, "my husband has mentioned the possibility of joining our houses. My son Joffrey is of an age where such discussions are not unreasonable."
Jaime's brows lifted slightly, watching Alyssa carefully now.
Alyssa did not react immediately. Instead she folded her hands politely before her.
"Your Grace honors my house with the thought," she said diplomatically. "But matters of betrothal are for my father to decide. Lord Stark will consider any offer carefully."
It was neither agreement nor refusal.
Exactly the sort of answer Olenna had advised.
Cersei studied her for a long moment.
Careful little wolf, she thought.
The queen inclined her head slightly.
"Of course," Cersei said smoothly. "Family decisions must always be respected."
The tension in the room eased after that. Conversation shifted to safer matters—trade between the North and the Crownlands, the rebuilding of Moat Cailin, the coming winter.
Jaime contributed the occasional dry remark, clearly enjoying the exchange.
Eventually Alyssa dipped into another respectful curtsy.
"Thank you for receiving me, Your Grace."
Cersei waved a hand gracefully.
"Travel safely, Lady Stark."
Alyssa turned and allowed the guards to escort her back through the halls of the Red Keep.
Only once she stepped back into the sunlight of the courtyard did she finally let out a long breath.
Gods, she thought, climbing into her carriage.
She leaned back against the cushions as the carriage began to roll toward her manse.
A slow smile spread across her face.
She had survived her chat with Queen Cersei Lannister, at least for today.