More surprising to many is Alisander's skill. He rises to the occasion of being Zak's right-hand man with grace, and if he's not as good as Zak at the social handling and charisma he makes up for it with sheer force of will and grit. The opinions of his men, in particular, rise steadily every time he puts his foot down and stands up for the North, every time hears them and listens to them and brings his concerns to the table and gets the war effort to be more shaped in ways that play to their strengths.

Not to mention every time he kicks someone's ass for being a bit too uppity.

Of course no one's baring steel, here, and of course they wouldn't actually fight, but they can occasionally "spar" to let out their frustrations, and the fact that Alis seems to enjoy sparring with people who are speaking out of turn too much or being too disrespectful is a mere coincidence, of course. Especially people who feel like it's a good idea to question his loyalty to his lady or to suggest that she might be enjoying Zak's attentions, too. Alisander's heirs' parentage will not be in question, and if you feel like it is in your interests to start or participate in rumours otherwise, well, he will see you in the salle.

Time passes, and the day they must set off approaches. They make their preparations. They send and receive missives, try to gather allies from farther afield, try to get information on their enemies' movements and poke at the weakest links in their alliances. Zakary really, really wants Dorne on their side.

And then it's time for them to go.

Yes. It is.

(For more than just the men, in fact. But her own departure is to be more clandestine, so. She will have the expected tearful goodbye to her husband out in public where everyone can see how happy their marriage is.)

By this point in time, she has finished embroidering the handkerchief. Anavett feels a little... something... about making a show of giving her husband her favor, but, well. This, too, is politics. A very Southern tradition leveraged to be as obnoxiously Northern as possible, and she already paid the price in time and effort, so she'd be a fool to not use it. Is it a bit gauche to turn her private affairs into a show for the smallfolk? Yes. Is it still her duty? Also yes. So her husband very obviously gets his bit of cloth handed directly to him, in front of approximately everyone, right before he's about to leave to go to battle, and she is sure to let it dramatically fall open to reveal the painstaking embroidery of the weirwood tree that took her approximately forever. (Say she's not serious about her marriage, Bolton-or-some-other-Stark-enemy. Do it. Her fingers have blisters that refute it, thank you, it is not easy to embroider something so complicated in less than a month! Especially when still doing other things!!)

"Come back to me," she... well, begs, really. The soft sincerity causes her voice to break as she hands him his silly bit of cloth. Yes, yes, this is something of a show for the people, but that doesn't mean that her lines are lies. They're heartfelt, it's just the location that's a bit staged.

Gods he's in love with this woman. 

He accepts the handkerchief then takes her hand, turns it palm up, and bends down to kiss it. "My lady, on my honour as a Stark, I vow to return to you whole and victorious." He usually reserves promises for when he'd rather die than break them but, well, if he breaks this one it will in fact be because he's dead, so that works well enough.

.... Okay, maybe there's some merit to having this all in front of approximately everyone, if it pleases him like that. He's clearly delighted by these theatrics. Look at that adorable hint of a smile of his, so unobtrusive and sincere. He's going to love her silly little bit of cloth forever and ever and that makes her feel warm and fuzzy inside.

"Good." Smiiiiile. And then, because they are in front of a mostly northern flavor of approximately everyone: "Heads of your slain enemies are also welcome but not required. I hear they get rather messy after too long, and the journey home will be long."

He rolls his eyes fondly. "I would offer the Mad King's itself but I fear that one may have other claimants."

...but then he turns a bit more serious and straightens up. "Be safe, milady, and await my return. I will count the days until I see you again, and miss you every one of them."

"Alright, alright, lad, we've had it," says the Greatjon good-naturedly, walking up to them and clapping a hand on Alis's back. He'd already been warming up to Alis but now he's plausibly the Stark heir's staunchest admirer and ally, save perhaps for two. "Let's be off afore the sight of yer lady chills yer feet."

"'Twould seem Lord Umber has started to get jealous, Lady Stark, but there is sense in his words. You tempt me, but I should not dawdle." ...he'll lean forward again to place his lips near to her ear and add a final, "I love you. My heart is yours forevermore." And then he straightens up once more.