A brief smile flitted across Alais’ face as she realized it was her brother. She was rather fond of him, and he was a welcomed face in King’s Landing, where she was still getting her bearings.
“Ah, Arys, what would I do without you?” she rolled her eyes, all the while pulling the dry cloak about her, trying to catch in some warmth, “You know, the Eyrie and mother miss you so. She’s quite curious to know what you have been up to here,” It was true enough; through the many letters the elderly Lady Arryn had sent her eldest daughter, each one had some form of questioning about the newly made Lord Arryn’s dealings, wanting to hear it from a “trustworthy” source. Alais found it tedious and annoying, so much so she had begun to make up ludicrous stories of Arys’ plots with pyromancers and joining mummers’ bands. Her mother, who had little time for humor, had written a rather harsh letter back, which Alais had merely burned.