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Chapter 22 – The Lion and the Queen
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The bells of King's Landing rang endlessly beneath a gray sky.
Slow.
Heavy.
Mournful.
Throughout the capital, people paused at the sound.
The Hand of the King was dead.
Inside the Red Keep, silence filled the throne room.
The great hall that usually overflowed with courtiers, guards, and petitioners now felt strangely hollow.
At the foot of the Iron Throne rested the body of Jon Arryn.
Silent Sisters moved carefully around the corpse, their gray robes whispering softly against the stone floor as they prepared the former Hand for funeral rites.
High above in the gallery overlooking the throne room stood Queen Cersei Lannister.
Still.
Watching.
Beautiful green eyes remained fixed on Jon Arryn's body below.
But her thoughts were elsewhere.
Footsteps echoed quietly behind her.
Jaime Lannister emerged from the adjoining hallway dressed in white Kingsguard armor, golden hair gleaming in the dim light.
He stepped beside his twin effortlessly.
"As your brother," Jaime said casually, "I feel it's my duty to warn you, you worry too much. It's starting to show."
Cersei did not look at him immediately.
"And you never worry about anything," she replied.
Finally, she glanced sideways toward him.
"When we were seven, you jumped off the cliffs at Casterly Rock."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"One hundred foot drop into the water. And you were never afraid."
Jaime smirked lazily.
"There was nothing to be afraid of until you told Father."
He straightened slightly, lowering his voice into an imitation of Tywin Lannister.
"'We're Lannisters. Lannisters don't act like fools.'"
Despite herself, Cersei huffed a small laugh.
Then her gaze drifted back toward Jon Arryn's corpse.
The amusement faded instantly.
"What if Jon Arryn told someone?" she asked quietly.
Jaime's expression barely changed.
"But who would he tell?"
"My husband."
Jaime leaned casually against the stone railing.
"If he told the King, both our heads would be skewered on the city gates by now."
Cersei still looked uneasy.
Jaime watched her for a moment before continuing:
"Whatever Jon Arryn knew, or didn't know, died with him."
He glanced down toward the throne room.
"And Robert will choose a new Hand. Someone to do his job while he's off fucking boars and hunting whores."
A pause.
"Or is it the other way around?"
That finally earned a genuine laugh from Cersei.
Small.
Sharp.
Familiar.
Jaime smiled faintly at the sound.
"And life will go on," he finished.
Cersei studied him quietly for a long moment.
Then:
"You should be Hand of the King."
Jaime immediately grimaced.
"That's an honor I can do without."
He glanced toward the Iron Throne.
"Their days are too long. Their lives are too short."
Below them, the Silent Sisters continued their grim work beneath the shadow of the throne.
And far above the city—a raven began its flight north toward Winterfell.
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Far away in Winterfell, the atmosphere could not have been more different.
Warm firelight filled the Stark family chambers while laughter echoed softly through the room.
Direwolf pups sprawled absolutely everywhere.
Robb's gray pup currently chewed on one of Bran's boots.
Arya's wolf was trying to climb beneath a chair.
Jon's white direwolf rested silently beside him, strikingly calm compared to the chaos around the others.
Meanwhile, Alyssa sat sprawled comfortably across one of the couches with her pure black wolf pup stretched across her lap.
Margaery sat beside her holding Tavion while Arlenna proudly hugged her cream-colored wolf close.
"So," Robb said, looking around the room. "Have the beasts been named yet?"
Alyssa immediately brightened.
"Yes."
The sheer excitement in her voice made Margaery sigh fondly.
Alyssa proudly lifted the black direwolf slightly.
"This beautiful creature," she declared dramatically, "is Nyx."
The black wolf blinked sleepily.
Robb snorted.
"Of course you picked something dramatic."
"I'll have you know it's a perfect name."
Arlenna immediately bounced in place.
"And mine is Fenrir!" she announced proudly while nearly squeezing the cream-colored wolf to death.
Alyssa quickly rescued the pup slightly.
"Gentle, little wolf."
"But he's big!" Arlenna argued.
"He will be," Alyssa corrected.
Margaery smiled softly before glancing down toward the russet-colored pup curled protectively beside Tavion.
"And Tavion's wolf is Alysanne," she said.
The little boy babbled happily as Nymeria nosed against his tiny hand.
Catelyn watched the scene warmly from nearby.
Even Ned looked more relaxed than usual watching his grandchildren with the wolves.
"They suit them," Sansa said softly.
"They do," Margaery agreed.
Alyssa glanced around the room curiously.
"So," she said, "what did the rest of you name yours?"
Robb scratched behind the ears of his gray pup proudly.
"Grey Wind," he announced. "That's his name."
The smoke-gray wolf immediately perked up at the sound, yellow eyes bright.
Beside him, Bran hugged his silvery-gray pup carefully.
"Summer," he said softly.
Rickon bounced excitedly nearby while his black-furred wolf pup growled at absolutely nothing.
"Shaggydog!" Rickon declared proudly.
"That one certainly fits," Theon muttered.
Arya sat cross-legged on the floor while her gray wolf climbed halfway into her lap.
"Nymeria," she said firmly. "The warrior queen."
Alyssa immediately pointed at her.
"That's an excellent name."
Arya beamed.
Across the room, Sansa gently stroked her lighter-colored wolf.
"Her name is Lady," she said softly.
The pup blinked up at her calmly.
Finally, everyone looked toward Jon.
The white direwolf rested beside him silently, almost unnaturally still compared to the others.
"Ghost," Jon said quietly.
The room fell silent for a brief moment.
The name suited him perfectly.
Pure white fur.
Red eyes.
Silent as snowfall.
Alyssa smiled softly.
"That's a good name, brother."
Alyssa leaned back slightly with Nyx still draped across her lap.
Ned looked around at the remaining unclaimed pup still wandering clumsily near the fire.
Then his gaze shifted toward Alyssa and Margaery.
"That last one should go to your next child," he said simply.
For a moment, Alyssa stared at him.
Then her entire face turned bright red.
"Father," she groaned.
Across from her, Margaery smirked slowly.
"Oh, I think that's an excellent idea," she said smoothly.
Alyssa buried her face briefly in Nyx's fur while everyone else laughed.
Margaery reached over and rested a hand possessively on Alyssa's thigh.
"We accept," she declared.
Alyssa looked up immediately.
"We do?"
Margaery's smirk only widened.
"We do."
Alyssa stared at her for another second before finally sighing dramatically and nodding along.
"Apparently we do," she muttered.
That immediately earned another round of laughter from the room.
Then after a moment, her expression shifted.
More thoughtful.
"We should probably head back to Moat Cailin soon," she admitted.
The room quieted slightly.
"Margaery and I still need to begin the journey south to the Reach."
At that, Arya immediately made a face.
"Why?"
"Because your sister's wife's family misses her," Margaery answered dryly.
Alyssa muttered under her breath:
"And because apparently I'm being dragged to Highgarden against my will."
Margaery elbowed her lightly.
"You'll survive."
Alyssa looked deeply unconvinced.
Robb laughed.
"Scared of meeting the Tyrells?"
"I am terrified of meeting certain Tyrells," Alyssa corrected immediately. "Specifically Vivienne." She grimaced dramatically. "I fully expect your sister to try fighting you for me at least once."
Margaery sighed the long-suffering sigh of someone who had spent years dealing with her younger sister.
"She will absolutely try," Margaery admitted. "But if Vivienne attempts to steal my wife again, I reserve the right to throw her into a fountain."
That earned another round of laughter around the room.
But even as the warmth and humor continued—
far to the south, the game of thrones had already begun.
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That night, Alyssa dreamed.
Or perhaps it was something more than a dream.
The strange bond between her and Daenerys had only grown stronger with time.
Sometimes they shared emotions.
Sometimes visions.
And sometimes—
they found each other here.
A place between sleep and magic.
Alyssa stood beneath a dark sky filled with unfamiliar stars while silver grass swayed softly around her.
Footsteps approached.
Then Daenerys Targaryen emerged from the darkness.
Older now.
Stronger.
Beautiful violet eyes immediately locked onto Alyssa.
And just as quickly—
those eyes narrowed slightly.
"You married her," Daenerys said.
Alyssa blinked.
"That's your greeting?"
Daenerys crossed her arms.
"You married Margaery Tyrell."
There was unmistakable jealousy in her voice.
Possessive.
Sharp.
Alyssa immediately started laughing.
"Oh gods, you're jealous."
"I am not."
"You absolutely are."
Daenerys glared at her.
Then after a moment, she sighed dramatically.
"I do not particularly like her."
Alyssa snorted.
"Margaery's going to love hearing that."
"But..." Daenerys admitted reluctantly, "she treats you well."
The jealousy softened slightly.
"She loves you."
At that, Alyssa's expression gentled.
"She does," she agreed quietly.
Alyssa's expression softened further.
"I know this is hard for you," she admitted quietly. "To see me with someone else. To feel it through whatever this bond between us is."
Daenerys remained silent.
"But..." Alyssa continued carefully, "even if it started as a marriage of convenience at first... it isn't only that anymore."
She glanced away briefly.
"I genuinely care for Margaery."
The admission came softer than the others.
Honest.
"She makes me laugh. She protects our children. She stands beside me no matter how reckless or impossible things become."
A small smile touched Alyssa's lips.
"It's not the same as whatever exists between you and me," she admitted. "Nothing could ever feel quite like this."
Her gaze returned to Daenerys.
"But that doesn't make what I feel for her fake."
Daenerys was quiet for a long moment.
Her violet eyes searched Alyssa's face carefully.
Jealousy still lingered there.
But beneath it—
understanding.
Finally, Daenerys exhaled softly.
"I know," she admitted.
The possessiveness in her voice had softened now.
"I can feel it."
She glanced away briefly, silver-gold hair shifting in the strange dream-wind.
"The way you think about her is different than how you think about me."
Alyssa stayed silent.
Daenerys looked back toward her.
"But it's real."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"And honestly... if I had to lose you to someone, I suppose it is better that it is a woman willing to bare her teeth for you."
Alyssa laughed softly.
"Oh, Margaery absolutely bites."
That finally pulled another laugh from Daenerys.
Then her expression gentled again.
"I still do not like sharing you," she admitted honestly.
The dragon in her practically growled the words.
"But... I am glad you are loved.""
For a moment, the tension faded.
Then Alyssa smiled.
"You should see the children."
That immediately caught Daenerys' attention.
Alyssa's face lit up as she started speaking.
"Arlenna is chaos wrapped in curls and stubbornness," she said fondly. "And Tavion already thinks he's terrifying because he has a direwolf now."
Daenerys laughed softly.
The sound was warmer than before.
"They sound perfect."
"They are."
Alyssa smiled softly.
Then she tilted her head.
"What about you?"
Daenerys' expression dimmed slightly.
"Viserys has gotten worse," she admitted.
The warmth in the dream seemed to cool.
"He grows angrier every year."
Alyssa's jaw tightened immediately.
Daenerys continued quietly:
"We found one of our father's bastard daughters."
That surprised Alyssa.
Daenerys nodded once.
"Viserys means to sell her off."
A pause.
"Perhaps me as well."
Alyssa's eyes flashed dangerously.
"He what?"
Daenerys sighed.
"He speaks often with Illyrio now. About alliances. Armies. Marriage."
Her expression turned distant.
"But honestly... marrying Khal Drogo would still be better than remaining trapped beside Viserys forever."
Alyssa blinked.
"You know Drogo?"
Daenerys nodded.
"For years now."
A faint smile touched her lips.
"He has been training me."
Alyssa stared.
"In swordplay?"
"And riding," Daenerys said proudly. "And surviving."
That surprised Alyssa even more.
Daenerys noticed immediately.
A slow smirk spread across her face.
"Oh," she purred softly.
Now it was Alyssa narrowing her eyes.
"You're jealous."
"Maybe a little," Alyssa admitted.
Daenerys looked entirely too pleased by that answer.
"He is my friend," she said smoothly.
Alyssa crossed her arms.
"You seem awfully fond of him."
Daenerys' smirk widened further.
Gods.
She was doing it on purpose.
Then slowly, Daenerys stepped closer.
Close enough that Alyssa could feel warmth radiating from her.
"It will not be much longer now," Daenerys said quietly.
The teasing faded from her expression.
Something deeper replaced it.
Something longing.
"We are finally going to meet."
Alyssa's breath caught slightly.
And somewhere far away beyond dreams and kingdoms—
destiny waited patiently for both wolves and dragons alike.
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The next morning dawned cold and gray over Winterfell.
The castle had already begun stirring to life by the time Alyssa finished preparing for the journey back to Moat Cailin.
Servants moved through the halls carrying supplies.
Direwolf pups chased each other through the corridors.
And somewhere downstairs, Arlenna could be heard loudly arguing with Rickon about whose wolf was bigger.
Alyssa had just finished strapping her sword to her waist when a knock sounded at the chamber door.
"Come in," she called.
One of Winterfell's guards stepped inside.
"My lady," he said respectfully. "Lord Stark requests your presence."
Alyssa blinked.
"At this hour?"
The guard nodded.
"In the crypts."
That made Alyssa pause.
"The crypts?"
"Yes, my lady."
The guard bowed slightly before departing.
Alyssa frowned.
Confused.
Why would her father want to speak to her there of all places?
Still, she pulled on her fur cloak and headed down into the depths beneath Winterfell.
The crypts were cold.
Silent.
Stone kings watched from their tombs as Alyssa descended deeper underground.
Torches flickered against ancient stone.
And waiting beside the statue of Lyanna Stark, stood Ned.
Her father looked older somehow in the dim light.
More tired.
He turned slowly as Alyssa approached.
"You wanted to see me, father?" Alyssa asked.
Ned nodded once.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Alyssa glanced around the crypt uneasily.
"You're starting to worry me a little, Father."
Ned looked toward Lyanna's statue.
Then finally—
he spoke.
"There is something I should have told you long ago."
Alyssa's brow furrowed.
Ned exhaled slowly.
"The truth about who you are."
The air suddenly felt colder.
Alyssa stared at him.
"What?"
Ned's voice remained low and heavy with old grief.
"You are not my daughter."
The words struck Alyssa harder than any blade ever had.
For a second she genuinely forgot how to breathe.
"No," she said immediately, the denial instinctive and sharp.
Ned's expression twisted painfully.
"You are my blood," he corrected softly. "But you were never truly mine."
He turned toward Lyanna's statue, torchlight flickering across the carved stone face.
"Your mother was Lyanna Stark, my sister."
Alyssa's stomach dropped.
Her eyes snapped toward the statue.
Toward the aunt she had spent her entire life hearing stories about.
Beautiful.
Wild.
Gone too soon.
"And your father..." Ned's voice faltered for the first time.
He closed his eyes briefly before forcing the words out.
"...was Prince Rhaegar Targaryen."
The crypt fell completely silent.
Not even the torches seemed to crackle anymore.
Alyssa simply stared at him.
Her mind rejected the words instantly.
"No," she whispered.
But even as she said it—
pieces of her life began violently rearranging themselves inside her head.
The dreams.
The dragons.
Her connection to Daenerys.
The magic inside her that had always felt too large, too strange, too unnatural.
Her silver-white direwolf form.
The visions.
The fire.
Gods.
Gods.
Ned stepped closer slowly, as though afraid she might break apart in front of him.
"When I found Lyanna in the Tower of Joy, she was dying," he said quietly.
Pain shadowed his face.
"There was blood everywhere. She was holding you in her arms."
Alyssa's chest tightened painfully.
"She made me swear to protect you. Robert would have killed you if he ever learned the truth."
Alyssa looked away abruptly, dragging a hand through her hair.
Everything felt wrong.
Like the ground beneath her feet had shifted.
"You lied to me my entire life," she whispered.
Ned's silence told her enough.
"I loved you as my own from the moment I held you," he said finally. "You were my daughter in every way that mattered."
Alyssa laughed once.
A disbelieving, overwhelmed sound.
Then Ned spoke the final blow.
"Your birth name was Visenya."
Alyssa froze completely.
Visenya.
Not Alyssa.
Not Stark.
Targaryen.
The name echoed through her mind alongside silver hair, dragons, prophecy, and fire.
For years she had thought the dreams were simply visions.
Now suddenly they looked a lot more like memories waiting to happen.
She stared at Ned with wide eyes, trying desperately to process everything at once.
Then finally, completely stunned beyond reason, Alyssa breathed out, "Bloody fucking hell."
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