Chapter 14 – Rumors and Rivalries
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The Spider Listens
The Red Keep had many walls.
Varys knew what most people never realized.
Walls did not stop information.
They carried it.
The Spider sat comfortably in his private solar while one of his little birds—an underfed boy of perhaps twelve—finished whispering the story he had been sent to deliver.
"The Stark girl did not bow her head," the boy finished. "Not really. She was polite... but she spoke back to the Queen."
Varys steepled his fingers.
"Did she now?"
"Ser Jaime laughed," the boy continued. "And the Queen laughed too. When the wolf girl said something about lions and wolves having teeth."
That made Varys smile faintly.
"How delightful."
"And the Queen asked about marrying her to Prince Joffrey," the boy added. "But the girl said it was up to her father."
Now Varys leaned back in his chair.
Interesting.
Very interesting.
He dismissed the boy with a small coin and sat in silence for several moments.
A child who had impressed the roses.
A child who had now impressed the lions.
Lions and roses alike...
Varys smiled slowly.
"A child who impresses lions and roses alike," he murmured to himself.
"How very dangerous."
For a brief moment Varys considered the other great player in King's Landing—the man called Littlefinger.
Petyr Baelish.
Where Littlefinger hoarded secrets like coin and spent lives as easily as gold, Varys watched for something else entirely.
The realm.
The smallfolk who suffered when lords played their games.
Alyssa Stark, he suspected, might understand that difference.
Baelish plays for himself, Varys thought quietly. I play for the realm.
If the young wolf ever had to choose between them...
Varys suspected she would learn quickly which man truly served Westeros.
The Spider had been watching Alyssa Stark carefully.
Now he would watch her even more closely.
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The Queen of Thorns
Across the city, another old player received the same news.
Olenna Tyrell listened as one of her informants recounted the story of Alyssa's meeting with the Queen.
The necklace.
The wolf and lion comment.
Jaime Lannister laughing.
Cersei Lannister actually laughing.
Olenna snorted.
"Well," she said dryly. "That is promising."
Her eyes gleamed with amusement.
"The little wolf bit the lion and survived."
She leaned back in her chair.
"I like her more already."
But beneath the amusement was calculation.
If the girl could stand in front of Cersei Lannister and leave with her head still attached...
She was exactly the sort of person House Tyrell wanted tied to them.
Olenna turned to one of her servants.
"Begin preparations," she said.
"Preparations, my lady?"
"For a journey north," Olenna replied calmly. "Winterfell."
The servant blinked.
"And have the caravans prepared," Olenna added. "Proper gifts. Grain, cloth, wine, silver. If we are asking Lord Stark for something as valuable as his daughter... we will not arrive empty handed."
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A Sister's Game
Alyssa discovered quickly that the Red Keep library was one of the few places in King's Landing that still allowed her to think.
Which was exactly why Vivienne Tyrell appeared there.
"How fortunate," Vivienne said lightly as she stepped between the shelves. "I was hoping to find you alone."
Alyssa did not look up from the book she had been pretending to read.
"That seems to happen a lot lately," she replied dryly.
Vivienne laughed softly.
"You spend so much time with my sister," she said, leaning casually against the table. "I thought it only fair you spend some time with me as well."
Alyssa finally looked up.
Her expression was polite.
But unimpressed.
"Is that what this is?"
Vivienne's smile sharpened slightly.
"Perhaps I simply find you interesting."
She stepped closer.
Too close.
Alyssa noticed immediately.
Vivienne tilted her head.
"A girl who commands soldiers," she said softly. "Rebuilds castles. Makes queens laugh."
Her voice dropped.
"It is very attractive."
Then she leaned forward—clearly intending to kiss her.
Alyssa stepped back instantly.
"Don't," she said flatly.
Vivienne blinked.
Alyssa closed her book and stood.
"I am not interested in playing whatever game you and your sister are fighting," she said calmly.
Vivienne watched her carefully.
Then she smiled.
"That's unfortunate," she said lightly.
"For you," Alyssa replied.
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Sisters at War
Margaery learned about the meeting within the hour.
She stormed into Vivienne's chambers without knocking.
"You went to her behind my back."
Vivienne looked up from her mirror.
"Did I?"
"Don't pretend," Margaery snapped.
Vivienne turned slowly in her chair.
"You don't own her," she said simply.
The room fell silent.
"No," Margaery replied coldly.
"But you are deliberately trying to provoke me."
Vivienne smiled.
"Is it working?"
Margaery's hands tightened slightly at her sides.
"Stay away from her," she said quietly.
Vivienne laughed.
"Oh sister," she said. "That is not how games are played."
Margaery stepped forward suddenly and shoved her.
Vivienne stumbled back a step, shocked.
"Stay. Away. From. Her," Margaery said through clenched teeth.
Vivienne recovered quickly and pushed her back just as hard.
For a moment the two Tyrell sisters looked less like court ladies and more like street fighters ready to claw each other apart.
Servants wisely disappeared from the doorway.
Vivienne's smile returned, but it was sharp now.
"Careful, sister," she said. "You might reveal how much you actually care."
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Secrets of the Rich
That evening Kael arrived at Alyssa's manse with several thick ledgers.
"We found something at one of Littlefinger's whore houses," he said.
Alyssa opened the first book.
Her eyes widened slightly.
Lists.
Names.
Payments.
Spies inside the Red Keep.
Blackmail accounts.
And a financial trail that eventually pointed to the Vale.
Lysa Arryn.
Alyssa leaned back slowly.
"Seven hells," she murmured.
Littlefinger was not simply running brothels.
He was running half the political secrets of Westeros.
A slow smile crossed her face.
"Good," she said quietly.
"Now we can use it."
Dreams of Silver and Fire
That night the dream returned.
But this time... it was different.
The mist cleared.
And for the first time in years of shared dreams—
They saw each other.
Daenerys Targaryen stood across from her.
Silver hair.
Violet eyes.
And a presence that felt like heat beneath the skin.
Alyssa blinked in surprise.
This was not the frightened girl she remembered from the early episodes of the show.
The Daenerys before her had steel in her spine and fire in her gaze.
Season One Daenerys had been timid. Controlled by Viserys.
This girl was something else entirely.
Stronger.
Fiercer.
Like a dragon who had not yet realized she could burn the world.
"So," Daenerys said softly.
"So this is what you truly look like."
Alyssa smiled.
Gods... she's beautiful, Alyssa thought, the realization hitting her all at once.
So this is the girl I've been dreaming of all these years.
Across from her, Daenerys was having a very different reaction.
The moment she saw Alyssa clearly, something in her chest tightened like a coiled flame.
Mine, a fierce, instinctive voice in her mind whispered.
The wolf girl was younger than she expected, dark-haired and violet‑eyed, carrying herself with a quiet strength that made Daenerys's pulse quicken.
Not fragile.
Not weak.
Dangerous in her own way.
Daenerys felt heat bloom in her chest—jealousy at the mention of other suitors, protectiveness at the thought of southern courts trying to control her.
The dragon inside her did not like the idea of anyone else claiming the girl she had dreamed beside for years.
"You too."
They stared at each other for a long moment.
Then Alyssa spoke.
She hesitated first.
"There is something else," Alyssa admitted quietly.
She looked almost guilty.
"As I told you before the king hinted that I may soon be forced into a betrothal with his son. I... may have found a potential spouse already, who would stop the king's plans, and so far she has treated me well in our meetings."
Her voice softened.
"I'm sorry."
The moment the words left her mouth Alyssa felt something sharp ripple through the bond between them.
Heat.
Jealousy.
It wasn't her own emotion.
It was Daenerys.
For a split second the dragon girl's anger brushed across Alyssa's mind like a burst of flame before settling again.
For a moment neither of them moved.
Then Daenerys stepped forward.
Before Alyssa could react, the silver‑haired girl reached out and caught Alyssa gently by the wrist.
The touch was warm—almost hot, like holding a coal that refused to burn.
Daenerys pulled her a step closer, studying her face with fierce intensity.
"You have nothing to apologize for," Daenerys said, her voice low but burning with emotion. "You are surviving."
Alyssa told her about King's Landing.
About the Tyrells.
About the possibility of a political betrothal.
Daenerys did not interrupt.
But her jaw tightened.
"I hate it," she said finally. "But I understand why you must do this."
Her violet eyes burned with something fierce.
"No matter who you marry," she said quietly. "You are mine."
For a moment neither of them moved.
Then Daenerys lifted her hand slowly and brushed her fingers along Alyssa's cheek.
The touch was gentle, almost reverent, as if she were memorizing the shape of her face.
Alyssa inhaled softly, surprised by how warm the contact felt even in the dream.
Daenerys studied her for another heartbeat—then, as if deciding something, she leaned forward and kissed her.
It was not rough or desperate.
Just warm. Certain.
A promise more than anything else.
Alyssa froze for half a second in shock before kissing her back, shy but real.
When they finally pulled apart, Daenerys wore a small, satisfied smirk.
Then the dream began to fade.
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Daenerys woke abruptly.
For a moment she lay still, staring up into the darkness of the ceiling above her.
Slowly, almost without realizing it, her fingers rose to her lips.
The place where Alyssa had kissed her.
Across the world, in a distant city she had never seen, the wolf girl was waking as well.
Daenerys could feel it somehow.
Worlds apart... yet bound together.
Her breath came fast and sharp in the darkness.
Then suddenly something unexpected brushed across the bond.
A flicker of warmth.
Embarrassment.
Shy happiness.
Daenerys blinked in the darkness, confused for a moment before realization dawned.
Alyssa.
Somewhere across the world the wolf girl had just woken—and she was blushing.
A slow, satisfied smile spread across Daenerys's face in the darkness.
"Good," she murmured softly.
The dream still burned in her mind.
The wolf girl.
Real.
Threatened by politics and marriage and southern courts.
Daenerys clenched the blankets in her fists.
"Then I will become strong enough," she whispered fiercely into the darkness.
"Strong enough to take what is mine."
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Miles away in King's Landing, Alyssa Stark woke with a soft inhale.
For a moment she simply lay there in her bed staring at the ceiling.
Then, slowly, her fingers lifted to her lips.
The exact same place Daenerys had touched only moments before in the dream.
Her cheeks warmed.
"Gods..." she murmured softly.
A small smile spread across her face before she buried it in her pillow, equal parts embarrassed and happy.
Even half a world away...
They had both felt it.
The bond between them was not just dreams.
Sometimes—Alyssa had begun to notice—when Daenerys felt something strongly, an echo slipped through the connection.
A flash of anger.
A spark of fear.
Something warmer that made her cheeks burn when she woke.
And Alyssa suspected the same was true in the other direction.
Two girls.
Two worlds apart.
Yet sometimes their emotions crossed the distance between them like a whisper carried on fire.
Her breath came fast and sharp in the darkness.
The dream still burned in her mind.
The dragon girl.
Real.
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A Road North
Weeks later Alyssa stood at the balcony of her manse watching the harbor.
Ships carrying orphans northward.
Brothel networks under her control.
The Tyrell sisters at war.
Cersei watching her carefully.
Varys watching even more carefully.
She had what she came for.
Information.
Power.
Leverage.
Alyssa exhaled slowly.
"Time to go home," she murmured.
The North was waiting.
And soon... so would the game.