Despite her natural inclination to defiance, Alysanne managed to fall into step with her husband, never falling so much as a pace behind him. It was a matter of pride. He was much taller than her, but short of tripping …show more content…
Even the banners clung to the wall with a bored sense of complacency, roiling occasionally as the fires lit below unsettled them. Despite the many candles and the great central hearth, it still seemed dark, dank, and wet. She had only ever known a Great Hall to lack warmth once in her life, but the Dreadfort put all of the Twins’ willful gloom to shame without even making much of an effort.
Alys clenched her jaw when her husband still did not take her hand even as she was presented to his court. Out of spite, she reached for his arm, tucking her slender fingers into the crook of his elbow as they walked. She would not let him alienate her in gesture. Alysanne understood the political importance of appearing to have a strong union. She would be grossly underestimated if Domeric continued to shun her so, and she would not have his people treat her as he did.
She did not hesitate to slip her hand from his arm once they were properly seated. Though she knew he would stand to toast to her, she had no intention of meeting his gaze when he did. Instead, she met the eyes of his people—of their people—as he rose a toast to her, slender hand wrapped around the stem of her cup. Whether or not they liked her, whether or not she liked them, it was her sworn duty now to see to their welfare, and she would uphold that duty. It was the Stark in her that could not forsake the honor of being their …show more content…
“So many favor summer swill, but this is no sweet wine.” It was ruby red, rich and deep and clearly aged, and it went down smooth, despite it’s apparent strength. She would need to mind herself. It was important that she kept her wits about her, especially on a night like this.
She did not like to be spoken down to like a child, but she allowed him the comfort of explaining himself. It seemed fickle not to. Alys did not deign to lean back in her chair, maintaining her posture though she did not turn to face him. “Ah, the bedding ceremony. I suppose that is rather a barbaric practice, isn’t it?” She answered him coolly as she turned her hands in her lap. If he wanted her to thank him for sparing her, she wasn’t going to afford him the pleasure of it.
“Lest you forget, Lord Husband, I am the daughter of the Warden. These people have always been mine in my heart because they are my father’s charge as well as yours. It would never be within me to insult them by not enjoying what they have labored to prepare.” She took too much satisfaction in pointing it out as she leaned over her bowl. Alys finished a mouthful before continuing, dabbing delicately at the corners of her mouth. “They are doubly my charge now that I am your wife, are they not? All the more important that I should make it my duty to show my appreciation for their