Heir Apparent

15

For the next few days, Alayne and Robb were contained in a bubble of happiness. Their days consisted of staying in bed, going on walks and horse rides, and basking in their good mood.

"Robb! We need you down stairs!" Bran and Rickon ran into the room, startling Robb, who quickly pulled on his shirt and boots, pressing a chaste kiss to Alayne's lips before hurrying after his little brothers.

A couple of short, silence filled minutes later, Alayne's new Winterfell maid Grace knocked lightly on the door before walking in, dragging the lady – as politely as she could – out of bed, and lacing her into her dress. It was starting to get a little tight, which worried Alayne. Was she growing out of all of her dresses?

They stayed in their uncomfortable silence, whilest they walked to the training courtyard together. She was sure this is where Robb would be, and, probably all of the Lannisters.

Eventually, they made it to the courtyard, where, much as she predicted, Joffrey was attempting to throw his puny weight around; backed by the Hound and several very bulky Lannister men. Alayne could practically see the steam coming out of the Stark men's ears, and felt herself bristle.

"Joffrey, enough," she hurried forwards, trying to reason with her brother without causing a scene.

He looked her up and down before waving his hand in her direction.

"Leave us, little girl. You clearly do not know when to mind your own business. This is a Baratheon matter, and you. Well. You are a Stark. You are no sister of mine, or Myrcella. Or Tommen."

Tears welled in the corners of her eyes, her frustration and anger with it. How dare he? That little shit faced toad was going to get a walloping once she was past his guards.

"I said enough Joffrey," she growled, "didn't mother tell you that she needs to measure you for your petticoat."

Behind her she could hear stiffled laughter. Robb snorted, biting his lip to stop himself from outright laughing in the future king's face. His bright eyes shone with pride for his wife.

"You'd know all about petticoats, wouldn't you, Lady Stark," Joffrey spat the words as if they were poison on his tongue.

"Yes, I would. Because I'm a woman. What are you?"

Joffrey's face contorted with fury. Red blotches appeared on his cheeks.

"I. Am. Your. Future. King."

Crossing her arms, she tilted her head to the side and smirked, pleased that she's made him drop his facade, before turning away. Just as she did, she heard the familiar sound of metal scraping against metal, and felt the hairs raise on the back of her neck.

Theon's arms grabbed her and dragged her away as the Hound knocked the too large sword out of Joffrey's hands with his own. Robb and Jon where quick to draw too, standing in between Alayne and the blonde bastard.

The Hound lowered his sword, bending to whisper in the future king's ear, before turning to nod his head at Alayne. Breathless and still in Theon's arms, she nodded feebley back, unable to process what had just happened.

A smaller, blonder blur ran past them all and punched Joffrey square on the jaw. Tommen raised his fist again as he straddled his older brother on the snow.