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There was something familiar about Alayne Stone from the start.
Himeko wasn’t stupid, she knew the girl was hiding secrets. Everyone in the Eyrie was hiding something, most likely a dagger behind their back as they all eyed each other and the waning warden, a young boy who couldn’t be more than nine years old. That Baelish most of all, who kept eyeing Himeko herself with hungry eyes.
It wasn’t the kind of hunger Himeko was comfortable with. Oh, yes, she was a beautiful woman, she was proud of it, but there was something else there. Something Himeko disliked.
Alayne had been introduced as Baelish’s bastard daughter, which Himeko thought was a crock of shit. They didn’t look much like each other, but it seemed that little Robert Arryn’s court was taken in by the lie. Something about Alayne, though, prickled at Himeko’s mind, but her first couple of days at the Eyrie, she didn’t think about it much.
There was, after all, a Stellaron that needed sealing all the way to the North. They needed the bickering kingdoms to band together, because from the reports Phainon and Mydei were sending into the group chat, there was a rather huge army of undead amassing north of the Wall. To that end the Nameless had all split up to cover more ground, and Himeko had come down here to talk the recalcitrant Eyrie into committing its forces to the cause.
Baelish was a non-starter. She didn’t like the slick way he smiled at her. Little Robert Arryn and Alayne Stone, though? Maybe.
Arryn was sick, it turned out. Himeko got the sense that the court was just waiting for the kid to bite it, which was unconscionable, so one day Himeko tracked down Alayne to a little snow-covered man-made forest (if you could even call it that) and said, “Miss Stone?”
Alayne turned around, a hand on one of the trees. She smiled politely, but her eyes were wary. Much like Dan Heng’s had once been, Himeko realized.
This girl had been a prisoner. Perhaps she still was.
“Lady Himeko,” Alayne greeted her. Her eyes weren’t quite on Himeko, instead staring past her shoulder. Every so often she seemed to look at her face and then look away just as fast. “How might I help you?”
“I’d like to speak with Robert Arryn,” said Himeko.
“Sweetrobin?” Alayne said, surprised. “Whyever for? He’s sleeping right now, he just took his medicine.”
“About that,” said Himeko. “With your permission, and his, I can contact friends of mine with extensive healer backgrounds who might be able to better treat him. They have significantly more access to resources that just might help him.”
Alayne blinked at her and said, “Is—I am sure that won't be necessary?” Her voice lilted upwards, making it sound more like an uncertain question than what Himeko was sure had been an attempt at asserting authority.
“If you'd like,” said Himeko, “we’ll simply call it satisfying my curiosity. That’s all.”
“Is it really?” Alayne asked. “You must want something from Sweetrobin.”
“I do,” said Himeko, with a nod, and Alayne blinked at her again, caught off-guard by—what was it? It couldn’t just be Himeko being upfront about her motives. Surely the court wasn’t that secretive.
Then Himeko recalled spotting somebody reading her fake correspondence at least three times and decided, yeah, they fucking were.
“The Vale’s forces?” Alayne guessed. “You wish to march on King’s Landing.”
“Oh, no, not on King’s Landing,” said Himeko, shaking her head. “What I’ve said before remains true: we want your help in getting north, past the Wall, so we can seal away the Stellaron that’s been messing with this world’s seasonal cycles.”
“You haven’t said what a Stellaron is,” said Alayne.
“Right,” said Himeko, remembering: this world hadn’t even been aware of the presence of others beyond the skies. “I’m sorry—I’m used to dealing with people who know what I’m talking about when I mention certain terms, so.” She let out a breath, and it came out cold in the mountain air. With the Trailblaze’s blessing upon her, she only felt the slightest chill from the winter cold. “A Stellaron,” she said, “is…a seed of disaster that responds to the wishes of a world. But in that response, it causes great cataclysms to overtake the world, and obstructs the star rail that connects each world.”
“You say that this Stellaron is the reason why our seasons are years long,” said Alayne. “I confess I cannot imagine otherwise. I was born during a long summer, Lady Himeko—I know nothing else.”
“I say that the Stellaron is the reason for a lot of things,” said Himeko. “The strange climate of this world is among them. The other is the dead rising beyond the Wall.”
Alayne shook her head. She was looking down, away from Himeko, staring at her hands. “Wights don't exist,” she said.
“They do,” said Himeko, and after a moment's hesitation, pulled out her phone. “Would you like to see proof?”
--
Robert Arryn was small, sleeping, and scrawny as hell. Underdeveloped for his age, Himeko figured that out fairly quickly. “His mother was feeding him from her breast until she died just a few months ago,” said Alayne in explanation, glancing at the maester, who was squinting at Himeko. “He…has been declining, ever since. We give him sweetsleep and milk of the poppy, as my—as my father has directed, but…”
“I worry that the poison may build in his blood,” said Maester Colemon. “In fact I have not leeched him in some time—”
“You shouldn’t be leeching him at all,” said Himeko. “Or giving him opiates.” She pulled up a chair, opened her briefcase, and rummaged around for her supplies.
“What are you doing—” Colemon started.
“I’m going to check his vitals,” said Himeko. “The more we know the better. Colemon, Miss Stone, you’re both welcome to stick around, I’ll teach you a few things. Then I’ll call a few people and they’ll get here as fast as possible—”
“My lord father,” said Alayne, her eyes on Sweetrobin and away from Himeko, her tone soft, “may not like this. He’ll call it interference.”
“The Lord Protector,” said Himeko, “is only the Lord Protector, and if the kid’s declining he’s not doing a great job of protecting him.” Or Alayne. Or anyone. The way he eyed Himeko, the dead-eyed smile on his face the few times they had spoken to each other—Himeko would be shocked, frankly, if he had ever thought about protecting anything but his own interests. “Miss Stone—Alayne—let me help. Don't tell Baelish. We both know he can't know.”
That seemed to sink in. “What is in it for you?” Alayne asked, glancing at Himeko’s hands. “What do you want from Sweetrobin?”
“He's nine years old,” said Himeko. “Nine, Alayne. I might want the Vale’s forces to help us but—this is a kid, he needs my help, I can give it.” She gnawed on her lower lip and said, “If you tell him and he outright disallows it, I’ll do it anyway. But I would find it easier if he didn’t know.”
Colemon fiddled with his voluminous sleeves, and said, “You cannot mean to imply—”
“Maester,” said Himeko. “Does the Lord Protector know that the drugs you’re giving him are building up to dangerous levels?”
“I have informed him, yes,” said Colemon.
“What if there are larger concerns?” Alayne asked. “Like the wights that you spoke of. Like the army you need. Wouldn't it be—easier, to have my father’s support?” There was a wavering quality to her voice, as if two sides of her heart were battling it out inside her.
“The big zombie army north of the wall is a pretty big concern of mine, sure,” said Himeko. “But I’ve got people on that, and my friends are working on getting the other kingdoms’ help. My chief concern right now is making sure this kid makes it through the night.”
Alayne was quiet. Then, for the first time since they met, Alayne’s eyes met hers, and Himeko’s breath caught in her throat. She knew that face. That was the face that greeted Himeko in the mirror every single morning, but—younger, with bluer eyes.
“What do you need, Lady Himeko?” she asked.