Queen of Wolves // Jaime Lannister [GAME OF THRONES] (ON HOLD)

7. BROKEN THINGS

What Alynna had been wishing for, for almost half her life, was finally within her grasp.

She was back home.

Yet the northern air was colder than Alynna remembered. She was grateful her mother kept aside new woollen dresses and cloaks since her southern silk and soft cotton did absolutely nothing to defend her from the chill. All her dreaming of home did leave out quite a few details she tended to overlook, such as the fact that it wasn't the same home she left behind and everyone and everything remained slightly foreign.

When Alynna was younger she could disappear and read for hours at a time with no one to bother her much, but even that had to change now because they all wanted her presence and attention, which she couldn't possibly blame them for, no one had seen Alynna in years, and she wasn't the same little girl anymore.

Alynna knew it was a small price to pay, still, she'd rather be surrounded by every person in Winterfell than spend another day playing the part of sweet and pleasing, Lady Alynna in the Red Keep. Here, she could be the shy and genuinely kind person she once was and she didn't have Celeste or any other handmaidens at her beck and call to make her feel so guilty for being indulgent or entitled.

'Am I doing it right?' asked Alynna, her brows drew together in concentration, weaving Sansa's auburn locks into braids that could be wrapped behind her head into a fine bun with the remaining hair cascading down her back nicely.

Sansa bit back a wince as Alynna tugged on her hair, 'It's lovely Alynna, absolutely lovely.' She forced a smile, brushing her hand over her jawline.

'Really?' Alynna raised her eyebrows as the bun began to sag limply down to the left and wisps of hair came out of the varying thickness of Sansa's braids. Alynna had never been particularly good at this.

'No, no, I like my hair now,' Sansa nodded, causing the loose bun to fall lower, 'it's different,' she insisted while instinctively, her fingers grazed her chin, playing with the skin right below her lower lip.

'You shouldn't touch your face when you lie, it's a telling sign.' Alynna warned her. Sansa opened her mouth helplessly, dropping her arm, 'I-I'm not lying,' she stammered, playing with her hands in her lap.

'Fidgeting is worse.' She grasped Sansa's hands in her own for a moment before releasing them, the dainty hands now lay still.

'How do you know?' her face wore a mixture of scepticism and confusion.

'Maybe it's a gift,' smirked Alynna, 'if they don't know to hide it, I can tell when someone's not saying the truth.' She finally finished Sansa's hair and stood up.

'How are you so sure I'm lying?' said Sansa in an accusing tone.

'I grew up in King's Landing.' said Alynna, 'And someone once told me this of King's Landing: 'To know is to destroy and to ask is to be destroyed.' Her eyes glittered with discernment.