[ Alayne briefly wonders after Shireen's mother. The Lady Selyse, if she recalls correctly, who is little more than a name to Alayne — a solitary leaf hung upon a broader tree whose shade cast itself over the Stormlands and called itself Baratheon. Did the Princess possibly take after her mother's disposition, Alayne thinks, but then puts the thought out of her mind. She cannot imagine Lord Stannis with such a wife, though it would be foolish to suppose that all marriages were finely matched.
She watches him as they pursue their little charge, Alayne gaze fixed sideways on the man. Though she does not know the true language of his face, she looks to divine some of it here. Was his concern truly for his daughter, or was there something — some greater secret? (For all men had those, certainly.) ]
Is she frightened of you? [ A bold question. It was not her place to champion this little girl, as unknown to her as she was. Still, Alayne asks, her eyes lingering. ] Is it your fool who sings such a broken tune?
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She watches him as they pursue their little charge, Alayne gaze fixed sideways on the man. Though she does not know the true language of his face, she looks to divine some of it here. Was his concern truly for his daughter, or was there something — some greater secret? (For all men had those, certainly.) ]
Is she frightened of you? [ A bold question. It was not her place to champion this little girl, as unknown to her as she was. Still, Alayne asks, her eyes lingering. ] Is it your fool who sings such a broken tune?