The Road Home
The road north felt different.
Quieter.
Cleaner.
Alyssa leaned against the side of her carriage, watching as the landscape slowly shifted from the crowded chaos of the south to something more familiar.
More hers.
She exhaled slowly.
King's Landing felt like a lifetime ago already.
The Red Keep.
Cersei's sharp eyes.
Varys's careful words.
Littlefinger's web.
The Tyrells.
Her lips twitched slightly at that last thought.
Margaery Tyrell.
Alyssa lifted her fingers unconsciously to her cheek.
The place where Margaery had pressed a soft, courtly kiss before she boarded her carriage.
It had been such a small thing.
Proper.
Expected.
And yet—
Alyssa's cheeks warmed faintly at the memory.
"Gods," she muttered under her breath.
She had gone to King's Landing expecting politics.
Schemes.
Danger.
She had not expected... that.
Alyssa leaned her head back, staring at the ceiling of the carriage.
At first the idea of marrying Margaery had simply been practical.
A shield against the crown.
A way to avoid being tied to Joffrey.
A political alliance.
But now...
Now she wasn't so sure it was only that.
Margaery was kind.
Clever.
Dangerous in a way Alyssa respected.
And she had never once tried to diminish her.
Alyssa huffed softly.
"Well," she muttered, "it could be worse."
That was perhaps the highest praise she was willing to give anyone in King's Landing.
A Meeting of Thorns and Spiders
One week after Alyssa Stark departed King's Landing, a quiet meeting took place in a shaded solar overlooking a garden of climbing roses.
Olenna Tyrell did not rise when Varys entered.
"Lord Varys," she said dryly. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
"Curiosity," Varys replied smoothly, settling himself across from her. "And perhaps... mutual interest."
Olenna snorted.
"If you're here about the Stark girl, you're late. Half the city has already taken an interest."
"Yes," Varys said mildly. "Though I suspect not all of them understand what they are looking at."
That earned him a sharper look.
Olenna tapped her cane lightly against the floor.
"Go on, then," she said. "Say what you came to say."
Varys folded his hands.
"Alyssa Stark is presented to the realm as the twin sister of Robb Stark," he began. "And she looks enough like a Stark to make that believable."
Olenna's lips curved slightly.
"But?"
"But," Varys continued, "her features suggest... something more."
Silence settled between them.
Then Olenna gave a soft, humorless laugh.
"Please," she said. "I may be old, but I am not blind."
Her gaze sharpened.
"That girl's origins are anything but simple."
Varys inclined his head.
"Then we are in agreement."
Olenna leaned back in her chair, studying him.
"Say it," she said.
Varys did not hesitate.
"Lyanna Stark and Rhaegar Targaryen."
The name lingered in the air.
Olenna did not look surprised.
"It would explain a great many things," she said calmly.
"Her appearance. Her temperament. Her... defiance."
"And her potential," Varys added quietly.
Olenna's expression darkened slightly.
"If that is true," she said, "then the girl is in more danger than she realizes."
"Yes," Varys agreed. "Which is why no one can know."
Olenna nodded once.
"Agreed."
She studied him for a moment longer, then added thoughtfully,
"That is likely why Ned Stark claimed her as his trueborn daughter and named her Robb's twin."
Her voice softened slightly, though the sharpness never fully left it.
"The girl is the last thing he has left of his sister."
Olenna's gaze hardened.
"If the fat king had known the truth, he would have had her killed the moment he learned of her."
Varys inclined his head slowly.
"Robert Baratheon's hatred for Targaryens is... well documented," he said quietly. "Lord Stark's decision was not only emotional—it was necessary."
His eyes flickered with something calculating.
"And it seems it was also... effective.
He paused, then added quietly,
"It appears the girl herself does not know the truth of her own origins. She moves as if she were only what the realm believes her to be, a Stark of the North, —unburdened by the weight that knowledge would place upon her. In some ways, that ignorance is her greatest protection; it keeps her from betraying herself in word or deed. But it also makes her... unpredictable. A piece on the board that does not yet know it is a queen."
Olenna's brows lifted slightly at that before a slow, impressed smile spread across her face.
"Well," she said dryly, "that makes all that she has accomplished even more impressive.""
A brief silence passed before Varys spoke again.
"Is that why you are pushing so strongly for a match between your granddaughter and the girl?"
Olenna's eyes narrowed slightly.
"No," she said simply.
Then, after a beat, she added with a faint smirk,
"That is not the only reason."
Varys raised a brow.
"Margaery likes her," Olenna said bluntly. "Truly likes her. And I have learned to pay attention when my granddaughter takes a genuine interest in something."
Her tone sharpened.
"Especially when that something is as useful as Alyssa Stark."
Varys allowed himself a small smile.
"A practical woman."
"I am still alive," Olenna replied dryly. "That should tell you enough."
She tapped her cane again, thoughtful now.
"There are others who might recognize what she is," Olenna continued. "Men who knew Rhaegar."
Varys's gaze sharpened slightly.
"You are thinking of Ser Barristan Selmy."
"He was Rhaegar's man," Olenna said. "Loyal. Honorable. He would see the truth."
"And what would he do with that truth?" Varys asked quietly.
Olenna did not answer immediately.
"Protect her," she said at last.
"Perhaps," Varys said. "Or perhaps he would feel duty-bound to reveal it."
Olenna's lips thinned.
"And if he knows," Varys continued, "then the Martells may learn of it as well."
Olenna's gaze sharpened further.
"Elia Martell," she said.
"Rhaegar's lawful wife," Varys confirmed.
"If Alyssa is his child... then she is a bastard."
Olenna considered that.
"Oberyn would not take that lightly," she muttered. "Not because of bastardy, Dorne has never cared for such things, but because of what was done to Elia and her children."
"Nor Doran," Varys added. "And both would have an interest in the matter."
Olenna's expression shifted, thoughtful rather than dismissive.
"For all that," she said slowly, "if it came to it... I would sooner side with the Starks than the Baratheons or the Lannisters."
Varys inclined his head slightly.
"As would I," he admitted. "The North is... steadier. Less prone to excess."
Olenna tapped her cane lightly.
"Which makes me wonder," she continued, "if it might be wise to tell Oberyn. Not the truth in full—but enough that he understands where his anger should be directed."
Varys was quiet for a moment.
"A dangerous gamble," he said at last. "But perhaps... not an unwise one, if handled carefully."
Olenna held his gaze a moment longer, then gave a short, decisive nod. "Then we do it—carefully," she said. "A word in the right ear, no names, no proofs."
Varys inclined his head. "Agreed. A whisper to Prince Oberyn—nothing more. No trails, no witnesses."
The room fell quiet again.
Finally Olenna exhaled sharply.
"Then we say nothing to anyone but Oberyn," she decided. "The girl lives as a Stark. And for her sake, that is what she must remain."
"Agreed," Varys said softly.
He rose to his feet.
"For now," he added, "we watch."
Olenna smirked.
"I always do."
As Varys moved to leave, she spoke again.
"She impressed your lions," Olenna said. "And my roses."
Varys paused slightly.
"Yes," he said quietly.
"That is what concerns me."
He lingered a moment, then added with quiet intent, "When do you intend to ride north, my lady? If you mean to place your granddaughter's hand before Lord Stark, timing will matter."
Olenna's mouth curved, sharp and pleased. "Soon," she said. "Before other clever people decide to be just as clever. I will not have the Baratheons, or anyone else, reach Winterfell first."
She tapped her cane once, decisive. "A modest procession, respectable but not ostentatious. Enough to honor the Starks, not enough to invite envy."
Varys inclined his head. "And your message?"
"Plain," Olenna replied. "Alliance, mutual benefit, and a granddaughter who will not try to rule the girl she marries." Her eyes gleamed. "Unlike certain princes."
"Prudently put," Varys said. "The North values respect more than spectacle."
"As do I," Olenna returned. "See that your little birds do not make a spectacle of it."
Varys's smile was faint. "My birds sing only when I ask them to."
Olenna watched him for a beat, then asked lightly, "Tell me, Lord Varys—have you ever given thought to setting a dragon back upon the throne? Our king drinks, whores, and leaves ruling to lions."
Varys did not startle. He folded his hands, voice even. "Across the Narrow Sea there are two Targaryens of note—Viserys and his sister, Daenerys. The boy is... unstable. The girl, by all accounts, is learning."
Olenna's brow arched. "Learning can be shaped. Madness cannot."
"Just so," Varys said. "And there are whispers the young princess possesses qualities the realm may one day find... desirable." He paused, then added with quiet precision, "Like your granddaughter, Lady Margaery, Daenerys was born intersex. In Westeros it is uncommon, but not unknown—and often overlooked when it proves politically convenient."
Olenna's mouth curved. "The realm tolerates what serves it. As do we."
"Then you see the difficulty," Varys continued. "Any move toward a Targaryen restoration must be timed, guided, and—above all—kept quiet until it cannot be undone."
Olenna tapped her cane once. "Quiet is a language I speak fluently, Lord Varys. As, it seems, do you."
She held his gaze, then added, more pointedly, "We will wait before we whisper anything to Prince Oberyn. Not until after I have secured the betrothal between Margaery and the Stark girl. I will not risk spooking the North, or inviting interference, before the match is set."
Varys inclined his head in agreement. "Prudent. Once the alliance is formalized, any rumor can be... better contained. Until then, silence serves us."
He paused, then, with a faint, curious smile, added, "There is, however, another matter. Your other granddaughter, Lady Vivienne. Her interest in Alyssa Stark seems... unusually pointed."
Olenna exhaled sharply, the sound half a sigh, half irritation. "Vivienne," she said, with clear exasperation. "The girl has ambition without patience, charm without restraint, and a rather unfortunate habit of wanting whatever Margaery has."
Varys's brows lifted slightly. "A rivalry, then."
"A nuisance," Olenna corrected. "Margaery plays the long game. Vivienne prefers to snatch at pieces the moment she sees them. It is inelegant."
"And dangerous," Varys added mildly.
"For her, perhaps," Olenna said. "If she interferes where she should not, I will remind her of her place."
Her voice hardened. "And I will not have her jeopardize this match. Not when it could secure both my granddaughter's future... and perhaps something far more significant for the realm."
Varys watched her a moment, then said quietly, "And tell me truly, my lady—does Lady Margaery care for Alyssa, or is this merely another harvest of advantage? I have no desire to see an innocent girl drawn into the game as a pawn."
Olenna's eyes sharpened. "My granddaughter is many things," she replied coolly, "but when she cares, she cares. She wants the girl, yes—but not in the way you imply."
The game was changing.
And at the center of it...
A wolf with dragon's blood was returning home.