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Chapter 1: Prologue
As long as Jaime could remember, it had always been Cersei. When he thought of his future, it was Cersei he pictured. Cersei by his side, Cersei chasing their little golden children around Casterly Rock, Cersei and him running free. A foolish thought perhaps. Especially foolish, for as he mooned after his sister, she was in turn mooning after Rhaegar Targaryen and picturing little golden princes and princesses with purple eyes.
Cersei as queen, a goal of his mother’s that his father couldn’t quite let go, a promise whispered to Joanna Lannister on her deathbed. Their golden lioness a queen, and a Lannister grandchild on the throne. A pretty picture to be sure. A picture that should have been easy to paint for all that his father had done for the king.
Aerys Targaryen had been nothing without Tywin Lannister, and the realm knew it. The backbone of his reign, the steel fist behind the King’s word. None would dare betray Aerys Targaryen with Tywin Lannister’s backing, except perhaps Tywin Lannister himself. Good enough reason for any sane king to reward such a staunch ally. Ensure his continued loyalty and military support by making his daughter a queen. Any sane king would have thought the same.
Aerys Targaryen, the second of his name, was many things, sane not among them.
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Chapter 2: In the Sight of God's and Men
It was a funny thing, really, knowing that come the next morning one’s role in the world would be entirely changed. She had left King’s Landing and come to Winterfell knowing this day would come, but it had always felt so distant, so beyond her. No matter how many years passed, it had always felt as if this day was years away, and now that the day was here it still felt as though it was years away.
She sat up in her bed, wiping the sleep out of her eyes and stretching. A flash of blue caught her eye and she turned to see the winter roses Robb had given her the night before, after he walked her to her rooms. “I won’t be able to give them to you on the morrow, if Sansa has her way” he had said. He had given her a sweet kiss before heading towards his own rooms, leaving her blushing and her stomach full of butterflies.
He’s a fool, she thought fondly. My fool.
Robb was always so sweet to her, going out of his way to gift her flowers or the honey cakes she was fond of. She laughed to think of how they had despised each other as children. They would argue for days and try to outdo each other on the training yard, where Robb would usually win. But overtime their rivalry turned friendly, and their friendship turned to a love she was ever thankful for.
What would I have done if we continued to hate each other? Would the betrothal have been broken? She doubted it. Her grandfather had never been concerned for her happiness here, only caring that she did her duty and played her role for the family.
There’s naught to worry over, however. For if Robb is a fool for her then she is certainly a fool for him. The time she spent embroidering with Sansa and Jeyne was often spent working on something or other for Robb. A new jerkin or a pretty handkerchief in Stark colours, or perhaps mending clothes which had torn in the training yard. Clothes she had likely torn with her own sword in a spar that had been a tad bit too competitive.
She took her time, choosing to dress herself and enjoy her last morning as a maiden in peace. I’ll be married this evening, and my mornings will no longer be so alone. She knew the Lord and Lady Stark shared a bedchamber and she wondered if Robb would wish to do the same. She wouldn’t mind. Despite the heated walls of Winterfell she often found herself chilled at night, still unused to the cold. A problem she had solved by spending the night with Sansa or Arya, but that would be out of the question once she was married.
She supposed she wouldn’t mind Robb’s company, either.
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Chapter 21: Iron and Bronze
Pine needles prickled the bottom of her bare feet, and her toes turned to ice. She wiggled them, but they were stiff and slow. Alysanne took note of her surroundings. The north? How did I get here? She shivered and made to draw her cloak tighter around her shoulders, but it slipped through her fingers and turned to sand. I am dreaming, I must be. She closed her eyes to try and wake herself, but she couldn’t. She opened them again. A dense fog had risen from the ground. She did not recognize these woods. They were certainly not the Wolfswood back home in Winterfell. The woods were dark, but not so dark she could not see. Dark, like Winterfell often was before snow or rain. A beast rumbled behind her and her hair stood on end. Go , her mind told her. She walked into the fog.
The ground beneath her feet grew warm, but the pine needles and woods remained. The smell of smoke reached her nose. The fog was no fog at all. Smoke. Smoke shrouded the woods, but there was no fire, nor was there any glow. She did not cough or struggle to breathe and her eyes did not sting like they did when the smoke from the cook fire blew towards her. She continued forward. The silhouette of a man formed ahead, walking forward with her. “Hello?” she called. The man did not turn or stop. She walked faster and drew closer to him. She could see the shine of golden armor, and soon could make out golden hair not unlike her own. “Father?” she asked tentatively. The man stopped and faced her. It was indeed her father, as she had left him in King’s Landing when she was a girl. Age had not touched this version of him. Hope bloomed in her chest. He’ll keep me safe here. She reached for him and he smiled, but before she could touch her hand to his, he turned to ash and blew into the wind. “No,” she screamed. The beast rumbled once more behind her and the smoke grew thicker, so she ran.
She slowed once more, once the smoke thinned. Another figure stood ahead. This one was a woman, and like her father, she did not respond to her calls. Alysanne made her feet move faster and the ground grew hotter beneath her. Unlike her father had, the woman remained out of her reach. All Alysanne could make out was a lavender dress, but even that was a smear through the smoke.
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ALYSANNE VI
Pine needles prickled the bottom of her bare feet, and her toes turned to ice. She wiggled them, but they were stiff and slow. Alysanne took note of her surroundings. The north? How did I get here? She shivered and made to draw her cloak tighter around her shoulders, but it slipped through her fingers and turned to sand. I am dreaming, I must be. She closed her eyes to try and wake herself, but she couldn’t. She opened them again. A dense fog had risen from the ground. She did not recognize these woods. They were certainly not the Wolfswood back home in Winterfell. The woods were dark, but not so dark she could not see. Dark, like Winterfell often was before snow or rain. A beast rumbled behind her and her hair stood on end. Go , her mind told her. She walked into the fog.
The ground beneath her feet grew warm, but the pine needles and woods remained. The smell of smoke reached her nose. The fog was no fog at all. Smoke. Smoke shrouded the woods, but there was no fire, nor was there any glow. She did not cough or struggle to breathe and her eyes did not sting like they did when the smoke from the cook fire blew towards her. She continued forward. The silhouette of a man formed ahead, walking forward with her. “Hello?” she called. The man did not turn or stop. She walked faster and drew closer to him. She could see the shine of golden armor, and soon could make out golden hair not unlike her own. “Father?” she asked tentatively. The man stopped and faced her. It was indeed her father, as she had left him in King’s Landing when she was a girl. Age had not touched this version of him. Hope bloomed in her chest. He’ll keep me safe here. She reached for him and he smiled, but before she could touch her hand to his, he turned to ash and blew into the wind. “No,” she screamed. The beast rumbled once more behind her and the smoke grew thicker, so she ran.
She slowed once more once the smoke thins. Another figure stood ahead. This one was a woman, and like her father, she did not respond to her calls. Alysanne made her feet move faster and the ground grew hotter beneath her. Unlike her father had, the woman remained out of her reach. All Alysanne could make out was a lavender dress, but even that was a smear through the smoke.
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CHAPTER 25: The Father and the Son
Dirt kicked up beneath his feet as he ran, trees became a blend of greens and browns. The air was crisp and cool as it ran through his fur. He stopped and sniffed the air. It differed from home, where it smelt of ice and snow, peat and smoke. The air here smelt warm and damp, of fresh grass and the river. He lifted his head and howled. His brothers and sisters answered back. One brother was close by, amongst the pack of men they’d traveled south with. His other brother and two sisters were north. They traveled closer by the day, but still they were too far.
Something rustled in the branches and leaves. He sniffed the air. Prey. He could smell the hot blood, the fresh meat. Hunger sunk its claws into his belly. He wove in and out through the bramble and brushes, stalking silently towards the noise. Leaves reached out, sticking to his white fur. Though it was dark, he could see the doe just ahead. It was clear as ever. He crouched low to the ground, prepared to pounce, when the doe lifted her head. Her gaze snapped to the east before it bounded away.
He huffed. Slaver pooled in his mouth. So close. Curiosity got the better of him. Instead of chasing after his meal he stood and listened for what had spooked the doe. In the distance, in the opposite direction of his man pack, he heard clanging and shouts. Man sounds. But these weren’t men he knew. He headed off towards the sound and did not travel far before the lights of cook fires spotted the horizon. Another pack of men had put up their strange cloth dens. He sniffed the air. These men did not smell like his pack. He crept closer through the bramble. The sharp sticks men used like claws glinted in the air, as well as the metal skins they dressed themselves in. Strange cloths hung in the air, beasts he did not recognize.
A howl echoed in the distance. Brother. The sky took on a strange tint as the sun rose. He turned tail on the strange men and sped off towards his man pack.
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Chapter 29: Family, Duty, Honor
Stone Hedge reminded Robb of home; a sprawling castle made of grey stone. It wasn’t as big as Winterfell, but it was certainly larger than the canvas pavilion he’d grown accustomed to. The thick, stone walls and the privacy they afforded were a comfort. Too often, Robb had felt as though the wind carried his every word throughout the camp. It was part of the reason he’d waited until then to have this conversation.
Robb sat across from Jon. The room used to hold the war councils seemed as though it hadn’t been used in years. A fine dust covered the higher surfaces, and old tapestries lay folded in a corner. Tall windows let in the late afternoon sun, illuminating the dust in the air.
“Alyn,” Jon shouted. A scrawny boy stumbled into the room, wide eyed and tripping over his own feet.
“Yes, Your Grace?” Alyn Blackwood was no older than Bran, long-limbed and scrawny, with a mop of black hair. When Robb announced Jon as his hand and proclaimed him a Prince of Winterfell, Lord Blackwood had been the first to offer one of his sons as a squire.
Jon sighed. “Go find Theon and tell him Robb wishes to speak with him.” Alyn began to sprint off when Jon called after him. “And Alyn, just Jon, is fine.”
Alyn ran off with a hurried, “yes, your grace.” Jon scowled at Robb, who grinned at him in amusement. “You could have named me Hand without naming me a Prince,” he quipped.
“You’re my brother, which makes you a Prince,” he insisted. Robb didn’t mention that by rights, he was a King. “And don’t pretend you don’t like being called a Prince. Prince Jon of Winterfell,” Robb japed.
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CHAPTER 30: Sixth of His Name
Magister Illyrio’s manse was as it always had been, over the top in its grandeur, and home. They’d only been at the manse for a few days since returning from Braavos. Aegon liked to travel, to see unknown places that he'd only visited in stories. But he preferred the manse. He had his own chambers here, his own space. He didn’t have to worry about re-dying his hair blue so frequently. Separate from the rest of the world with its twelve-foot walls, Aegon could be Aegon instead of Young Griff, and Jon could be Jon. It was only Septa Lemore who kept up her facade. Not that Aegon minded. He’d known her as Septa Lemore for so long it felt natural.
Aegon sat in his chambers with a book spread open in front of him, but his eyes were elsewhere. He watched the colorful birds flit from tree to tree in the gardens below. Gardens that he had spent hours upon hours exploring as a boy. They’d once felt as though they were jungles of their own, his alone to explore. Now, they felt as though they’d shrunk to half their size.
He mindlessly flipped another page before snapping the book closed, returning it to its shelf. Aegon ran his fingers along the spine, selecting another at random. Magister Illyrio had an extensive book collection, and he always switched out the books on his shelves when Aegon visited. Aegon asked him once what his favorite book was, but the magister hadn’t an answer to give him. Septa Lemore later japed with him that he more likely wanted the novelty of owning such rare books.
The book flopped down onto his desk with a thunk, Aegon in the chair beside it. He flipped the cover back to an illustration of a dragon staring up at him. The garden below long forgotten, Aegon dove into the book. Illustrations of eggs, dragons in their stages of growth, saddles, he poured over it eagerly. He analyzed the chapter on dragon’s eggs, but his heart fell. Nothing on how to hatch eggs.
Aegon glanced at his own egg, sitting on top of the lit brazier in his room. The brilliant, shimmering gold flickered in the flames, cut through with stripes of orange. If only there was red, he lamented. Then, it would truly be a dragon for House Martell. He turned instead to the chapter on dragons of days passed.
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CHAPTER 31: Burning Bright
The Smalljon’s booming laugh carried through the wind, and she smiled at the sound. Alysanne peered over her shoulder to see Jon chuckling at something the Smalljon said. Jon caught her eyes and gave her a friendly wave, which she returned.
A small group of guards rode ahead, but aside from them, it was Alysanne leading the host. Wylla rode to her left, and Jorelle to her right. Were Alysanne to look over her shoulder, she knew she would find Ser Addam just behind. It was a welcome change to have her friends beside her that day. The previous day had been Ser Stevron, and the day before that Maege Mormont. Not entirely unpleasant company, she supposed.
Jorelle turned around as well. The wind whipped her dark hair into her face and she batted it away. “What’s so funny, Umber?” she called back teasingly. Another gust of wind snapped Jon Umber’s cloak behind him. The wind grew more biting as the days went on; a sign that winter would soon be upon them, according to Alysanne’s men.
The Smalljon waved a dismissive hand. “A jape, not fit for the ears of a lady,” he insisted. Wylla and Alys snickered. They doubted that anything the Smalljon said was any bawdier than what they’d heard out of Jorelle’s mouth that day alone.
Jorelle scoffed. She wheeled her horse about back towards where the Smalljon rode. “Try me,” she challenged. Alysanne continued to glance over her shoulder as Jorelle approached Jon Umber. She pulled her horse to a stop beside his and matched his pace. Jorelle leaned her head closer to his, his lips moving as he relayed the joke. Alys turned back to face forwards once more as Jorelle’s sharp laughter rang through the air. She could just make out the Smalljon’s light chuckles at Jorelle’s teasing barbs.
A fine match, they would be. Jon Umber did not seem the type to mind a wife’s preference for maces and mail. They got along well enough, he and Jorelle. They shared the same wretched sense of humour. Alys had watched the past few days as they worked together to get a rise out of Jon and Wylla. Or, gods help her, Harrion Karstark. A match made in the seven hells, more like.
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CHAPTER 32: Mother’s Mercy
He nodded to Ethan Forrester, who stopped at the entrance to the godswood. Robb continued on with Grey Wind following after him. Ethan hardly gave a second glance to Grey Wind, something most of the other men who guarded Robb did. He’d grown used to the enormous beast by now, Robb supposed.
Grey Wind bounded off further into the godswood of Raventree Hall, but Robb continued on his straightforward path. The moon had only just risen, and the godswood was still. He could breathe easier here, away from all the people. I never get a moment alone. There was always some lord requesting an audience, or another guard following after him.
He didn’t mind his guards, and he knew they gave Alysanne peace of mind. A fair compromise, she’d said, in exchange for her agreeing to increase her own. Not quite a Kingsguard, but close enough. Robb wasn’t a southron king, and he wouldn’t bind men to him in such a way. And besides, with Alysanne gone, the extra company wasn’t unwelcome. Dacey Mormont was always in good humour and always willing to jape at the expense of other lords. Torrhen Karstark was far less boorish than his elder brother Harrion, even if he was more Bran’s friend than Robb’s. And Ethan Forrester, though soft-spoken, was affable and fast becoming a friend as well.
Though Robb had already visited the heart tree at Raventree Hall several times, he still found himself disappointed. He’d found himself disappointed in this godswood from the start, as awful as he felt for feeling that way. It hadn’t been what he expected at all, when he heard there was a true godswood so far south.
When Robb pictured a godswood, he pictured the godswood from home. A dense canopy of trees; ironwood and oak, sentinels and pines, a thick layer of dead leaves and moss on the forest floor. He pictured the small pools warmed by the hot springs that he and his siblings used to swim in, and the black pool at the base of Winterfell’s heart tree; an ancient tree, towering with a weeping face and leaves of blood. There were hardly any other trees aside from the heart tree in this godswood. Not as many as in Winterfell, anyway. The heart tree itself was long dead, with only its bone-white bark remaining. Poisoned by the Bracken’s, to hear Lord Blackwood tell it. It was a colossal beast, far larger than the heart tree in Winterfell. Yet it still paled compared to the tree he’d stood before with Alysanne.
Thinking of the godswood from home always reminded him of Alysanne and the night they married. He could still see the candles that lit the path to the heart tree, and her soft smile and flushed cheeks as she made her way to him. The godswood at Raventree Hall brought to mind none of those things.
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Hi there! So first of all: yay for the new chapter of Throw Me to the Wolves, I'm so glad you managed to find the time to update!!! As with all the chapters before it, it was amazing 😁
Now, for the question: I remember that in the GOT show, Robb has quite the intimidating talk with Jaime after he captures him (not sure if any of it happens in the books since I haven't read them yet). I was wondering how you think that scene changes in the Throw Me to the Wolves timeline? Because in your universe, Robb and Jaime are much more connected than they were without Alysanne - not to mention having even more reason to dislike each other. I can imagine so much more tension between them and I just love to think about it!
Sorry for the absurdly long ask, I guess I got excited lol. Thanks for allowing questions - and thanks again for the new chapter!
Hi! Sorry it took me so long to reply to this! And sorry for how long this answer is about to be lol
It for sure changes in this timeline. Robb has seen what Jaime’s abandonment of Alysanne did to her growing up, and so he already has resentment towards him in addition to everything that happens during the war. I think there’s also the odd, contradictory feeling of thanks, because it’s because of Jaime that Robb has Alysanne. But then again, Jaime’s bastard son has taken his father’s head and to Robb’s knowledge, holds his siblings hostage.
And as for Jaime, he has a lot of lingering guilt surrounding how he’s treated Alysanne and how he essentially let her be sent away as a child. Jaime has never been good at facing past hurts and failures, especially those where he’s at fault.
I don’t think Jaime would truly believe Robb “stole” Alysanne from him, but he might let himself think so because it would be easier than facing the truth. Jaime consistently lets himself believe in lies that allow him the easy way out, especially in this timeline. He tells himself that his “dishonor” will only stain his daughter, and so he lets her drift away. In truth, he knows it’s because he should have done more to keep her by his side, and he can’t bear to look her in the eye and see that hurt and betrayal. He didn’t want to be faced with the fact that she was growing up so far away from him, and without him.
So here’s Robb, who has been there for Alysanne at all the points Jaime wasn’t, who his daughter is loyal to above all else, and who has just beaten him on the field of battle and taken him prisoner. I really do think his feelings of sorrow and guilt for missing out on her life thus far would manifest into anger towards the one who did get to be there. And there’s the anger that exists because of Robb waging war against Cersei her children.
And Jaime isn’t completely heartless, he loves Alysanne dearly. Beneath it all I do think he has some level of respect/gratitude towards Robb. He sent Ser Addam with Alysanne out of fear that she’d be saddled with a cruel husband, and Robb is the opposite of cruel to Alysanne. He saw at their wedding how much they love one another, and the way she’s followed him to war speaks to that love. Jaime has only ever wanted his daughter to be happy despite the misguided ways he goes about it, and how could he truly hate the man his daughter loves, and who loves her in turn?
I toyed with including the Robb/Jaime scene, but instead I cut it in favor of Alysanne’s confrontation with Jaime. Having both so close together felt a tad repetitive to me and I thought Alysanne deserved the chance to confront Jaime far more than Robb. I may still write a scene between the two, though! Their dynamic is far too interesting not to.
Along the same vein, I originally wanted to do a chapter with Ser Addam’s pov because I feel like it’d be so interesting to explore how he’s felt about being sent north, and how all of the sudden he’s responsible for this six year old girl who is all alone in the world. And on the opposite end there’s Jaime, who comes back into Alysanne’s life once she’s grown, and Ser Addam has essentially stepped into the role Jaime left empty. I couldn’t find the right place for it in the narrative but I may still write it and post it as a “deleted scenes” type of thing.
And I loved loved loved the long ask, I live for these types of things and I so rarely get to talk about my fic! So, thank you for the question. And thank you for reading!
I feel like I kinda went off on a tangent, Jaime and Alysanne’s relationship is a whole other beast and I could go on for hours about them alone. Let me know if this didn’t answer the question hahaha
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Hi there, Throw Me to the Wolves anon here! Thank you for answering my other ask, it was great! I honestly might die of joy if I get to read Jaime and Robb interacting again. Two people who are fiercely protective of Alysanne, who absolutely hate each other but are also undeniably grateful to each other - the atmoshpere would be incredibly tense, and I have no doubt you'd do it justice if you ever decided to write it.
I do have another question: I was wondering if you have any example pics for Alysanne's appearance? For some reason I just really want to make sure the image in my head is right. For instance, her hair - I think you've referred to it as golden several times. I've always sort of imagined it on the paler side of gold - maybe just blonde enough to pass as Lannister and just silver enough to pass as Targaryen. I know that Alysanne's eyes are the traditional Lannister green, so I wondered where (if anywhere) the other side of her heritage made itself known. Now that I've typed it out, this kind of seems like a wierd question lol.
Sorry (again) for the long ask!
Hello! Sorry again for taking a minute to reply, I wanted to be able to sit down and really answer this. (Also, incredibly flattered that you think I’d do the conversation between Jaime and Robb justice, thank you ❤️)
And you’re not the first person to ask this! I’ve spent so long trying to find someone who fits perfectly my image of Alysanne I have in my head and it’s been almost impossible, but I’ve been playing around with art breeder, though, so I can attach that picture at the end :)
It’s not a weird question at all, and you’re completely right about the hair! It’s definitely on the paler side of gold, somewhere between Lannister and Targaryen. Her eyes are indeed Lannister green.
I think the shape of her eyes, though, comes from her mother. As does her nose, and both of those things to me come entirely from her Targaryen ancestry. There’s also some of that “Valyrian” beauty in her, a regal air about her almost. She has her mother’s height as well, and her chin, oddly enough.
(A small little head cannon I have is that she isn’t overly fond of her nose, as most aren’t, but the only reason she doesn’t truly hate it is because she knows it comes from her mother)
Since her mother’s parents were siblings, she’s still half Targaryen in the sense that she still has a good bit of Valyrian blood in her. She just as easily could have been born silver haired and purple eyed like her mother, and so could her children someday.
I’m still not 100% happy with how the portrait on art breeder came out, but it’s the closest I could get! The eyes aren’t perfect because I had to fix those after the fact with Lightroom, and I’m not very good at using that program lmao
Thank you again for the question :)
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Throw Me to the Wolves anon here! Okay, so I was reading through your story again, and I got to Varys' interlude, and something caught my attention. Varys mentions that Cersei had insisted upon Shaena using the Grand Maester (that was obviously in Lannister pay) for the delivery. He then says that it was unfortunate that Cersei's actions did not have the intended effect (keeping both Shaena and baby Alysanne alive).
But here's the thing: why would Cersei want to help Shaena? I assume that Cersei at best derided her and at worst absolutely hated her, so why would she care about Shaena's health? It couldn't be because of Jaime, because Cersei only cares about whether or not Jaime is hers, not about his feelings. And it couldn't be because she particularly wanted the baby to make it out alive, because I feel like she would have seen Alysanne as something to come between her and Jaime at that point. And I don't think that she did it for the good of the family, because I don't think that Cersei cares much about that beyond how it affects her.
Which all leads me to the question: Is Cersei the reason Shaena died? Like, did Cersei pay the Grand Maester to do something to weaken Shaena so that she didn’t make it out of the delivery alive?
Because if so? When Jaime and Alysanne find out? Holy. Crap.
Anyways, I really hope that this isn't totally wrong, cuz I'm gonna look so dumb if it is lol. If I'm completely wrong please just like...ignore this ask lmao
AH no you're not dumb or wrong! This was definitely the conclusion you were supposed to reach, and I'm so so glad people are picking up on it! (also, you reread my fic??? crying 🥺❤️)
Varys knows what Cersei's true intentions were, and he knows of Pycelle's part. Cersei did in fact despise Shaena, and is fully responsible for the end she met. What precisely she did, however, remains to be seen :)
And her feelings towards Alysanne are complex. Had Alysanne remained in King's Landing as Cersei wished, she would have latched onto her. She viewed Alysanne as the daughter she could have had with Rhaegar, and with Shaena out of the way she could have embraced that delusion. Cersei 100% would have groomed Alysanne to be queen after her, and would have done everything she could to wed her to Joffrey. In her mind, the prophecy of a "younger, more beautiful queen" could have been avoided because she would control that queen. Alysanne would have been another piece for her to move around the board, a way for her to retain power as long as she could.
But now that Alysanne has struck out on her own? She is nothing less than a traitor in Cersei's eyes and is entirely disposable. Like you said, Cersei does not care for much beyond Cersei (and her children, which she ultimately views as extensions of her self). Her love for Jaime is entirely selfish and self-serving, and if Alysanne had remained in King's Landing and gone against Cersei then she would absolutely have been viewed as an obstacle and done away with, regardless of what Jaime felt.
I do plan on exploring Cersei's views towards Alysanne in a future chapter. Cersei is so fun to write, and she's one of my favorite characters in canon!
But yes, I'm so looking forward to writing that reveal, and what it does to Alysanne and Jaime.
Thanks again for the questions!
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