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PROLOGUE
Rhaegar Targaryen stood in the shadows, his silver hair catching faintly in the dim lamplight, as he watched his Lady Wife. He had not spoken to her in days, though the weight of her absence a constant ache in his chest. She was here, in their bed chambers, secluding herself with but her thoughts.Rhaegar had lacked the courage to face her until now.The warm glow of the lamps caressed her ivory skin, rendering her ethereal, as if she were a being not of this world. Lyanna Stark needed no embellishment; her beauty was otherworldly, akin to a fae or nymph of some sort from old tales. She was the being who had saved him like a blessing from the Gods when he had been drowning in his despair. But now, she was the one drowning, and Rhaegar could do nothing but watch.The Gods were most cruel to condemn him and his so after giving him a glimpse ofjoy and everlasting happiness.Tears traced silent paths down her cheeks, her swollen grey eyes evidence of the hours she had spent alone, crying. She sat motionless, her pain a sharp and visible thing. Rhaegar knew better than most how good Lyanna was at breaking herself apart. It was her strength and her curse - this warrior’s heart that could endure any torment, even self-inflicted. Even now, she had to know he was here; she was too well-trained, too aware to miss his presence. Still, she made no sign, no sound. His Heart sat there in the silence, turned away from him.Rhaegar could not bear it. He turned to leave, the guilt of his inaction burning in his chest. He could not bear to be witness to his beloved in agony. But before he could step away, the words of the Grand Maester echoed in his mind.
“Your Grace, if you wish to dissolve the child, this moon is your last chance. The Princess has reached the fifth month of her pregnancy. Any further delay will put Her Highness' life at risk.”
He clenched his fists and forced himself into the chamber. In two strides, he crossed the distance to her, grasping her arms and pulling her to her feet. His Lyanna’s beautiful red rimmed eyes widened in shock as she looked at him, startled by his sudden approach and the raw desperation in his face.“I have lost,” he said, his voice breaking, the words trembling in anguish. “I have lost, Lyanna. It feels as though you have been playing me all along.” His laugh was hollow, bitter. “But if begging will make you stay, I will do it. I will fall to my knees if that’s what you want.”Lyanna’s lips parted, her breath hitching at his words. “How– How can you say such a thing?” she rasped, her voice hoarse and filled with such hurt that it broke him further. He was the reason for her pain, but he couldn't stop, not now. Not when it meant her life.“Because,” Rhaegar said, his voice rising, “if I don’t, I will lose you completely. Do you understand that? Without you, there is nothing left for me. I know this is a game- a cruel game of emotions. But even knowing that, I keep laying my cards bare before you. Again and again.”“Your Grace…” Lyanna began, her voice quivering, but Rhaegar pressed on, unable to stop the words spilling from his heart.“Do not think of anything else,” he implored. “Decide this with only yourself in mind. Forget the child, the throne, the dynasty. Choose me, Lyanna. CHOOSE ME OVER THE BABE THAT IS CHIPPING AWAY AT YOUR LIFE AS WE SPEAK!” His voice cracked as tears finally spilled down his face. His body shook, overcome by the fear that he might truly lose her. “Please. Don’t leave me.”Even through her own tears, Lyanna smiled softly. The sight shattered him further. Even now, she was comforting him, when she was the one whose life hung in the balance. Without a word, His Heart wrapped her arms around his waist, pulling herself close to him. He felt her flinch at the movement, and guilt surged through him. He had not been gentle, but she made no complaint. Instead, she held him tighter.“I am choosing you, my prince,” she whispered, and his heart broke anew.Her words were a lie. She was not choosing him, not in truth, she was choosing his legacy, the promise of his bloodline, the promise of their marriage alliance, the promise of an heir. She would not give up the life growing inside her, no matter the cost to her own. He saw it in her eyes, in the fierce resolve that had always defined her.“Without you, Lyanna, I am nothing,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. He buried his face in her hair, inhaling the faint scent of winter roses that always lingered on her. “Don’t leave me. Please Lyanna. I am the Crown Prince of the realm. I– I have never pleaded for anything, but for you I will. I will get on my knees and beg if it will please you. Please Lyanna.”Her calloused hands stroked his hair, soothing him as if he were the one in need of comfort. “Do not say such things, Rhae. You are everything. You will be the greatest king the Seven Kingdoms has ever known. I believe in you. You are destined for greatness, my love.”“Then tell me, Lyanna. Tell me what I can do. How can I save you? How can I make you stay?” His words were a plea, a man broken and desperate to keep the one thing he could not bear to lose.Lyanna pulled back slightly, just enough to look up into his tear-filled eyes. Her hand rose to cup his cheek, her thumb brushing away a stray tear. “You cannot save me, Rhaegar. Not from this. Some battles cannot be won, even by you.”Her words were soft but resolute, resigned, and they hit him like a blade to the heart. She had already accepted her death.He shook his head, refusing to accept them. “No. I refuse to believe that. There must be a way–”“Listen to me,” she interrupted gently, though her voice wavered. “You are my heart, my soul. But this child, Rhaegar… this child is ours. They are hope. They are the future of everything we have fought for. I will not abandon them.”His hands tightened on her arms, his grief ever consuming. How was it that he was grieving and mourning for someone whose heart still beat. “But what of us? What of the life we dreamed of? Do you not see that losing you would destroy me?!”Lyanna’s smile was bittersweet, her own tears falling freely now. “I see it, my soul. And it destroys me to know I must leave you. But you will endure, Rhaegar. You must. For them. For us.”Her words felt like a farewell, and Rhaegar’s knees buckled. He sank to the floor before her, his head resting against her swollen belly as he sobbed. Lyanna’s hands cradled his head, her touch tender despite the pain consuming them both.“You are stronger than you know,” she murmured. “And one day, you will find a way to forgive me.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
I. Hide and Seek
The echoes of her giggles bounced off the stone walls of the Maidenvault as the Princess Alysanne ran as fast as her little legs could carry her. Her breath came in short bursts, but she didn’t stop. She couldn’t stop! If she slowed down, Barbrey would catch her, and she wasn’t ready to lose yet. Not again.Her slippers slid a little on the smooth floor, but she caught herself with a huff. She’d seen the way the maids smiled at her when she passed, and she liked that they thought she was clever and quick. She was clever and quick. Faster than anyone!“Princess, be careful!” Ashara’s voice floated after her, sounding worried but also a little like she might laugh.Alysanne grinned to herself. Grown-ups worried too much. She wasn’t going to fall, and even if she did, it wouldn’t hurt. She was strong, like a dragon – and maybe a wolf too. Ashara always said she was both – by way of her Lord Father and Lady Mother.Her heart raced as she rounded a corner, throwing a glance over her shoulder. There she was – Barbrey Dustin, with her long legs and her sharp eyes, moving so calmly, as if she wasn’t even trying to catch her. It wasn’t fair, really, because Barbrey was so tall, and her steps were so big. But that didn’t matter. Alysanne was small and fast, and she would escape.Or at least, she thought she might.Before she could dart down another hallway, strong arms wrapped around her middle, and the world spun as Barbrey lifted her into the air. Alysanne shrieked, half in protest and half in laughter, as her feet dangled.“I’ve got you now, little ice dragon!” Barbrey said, spinning her around.“No!” Alysanne cried between giggles, her arms flailing dramatically. “I let you catch me!”“Oh, did you now?” Barbrey asked, holding her close. Her voice was playful, but her grip was firm and safe. “Well, I thank you for your kindness, Princess. Otherwise, I might still be chasing you through the Maidenvault.”Alysanne pouted, though it was hard to keep her face serious when her heart was still racing with excitement. “I am faster than you,” she insisted, brushing her unruly dark hair away from her face, revealing flushed cheeks and dark indigo eyes that sparkled with mischief.“Of course you are,” Barbrey said with a smile, her grey eyes twinkling in that way they always did when she teased. “The fastest little dragon in the realm, I’m sure.”By now, Ashara had caught up. She was a little out of breath, but she didn’t look mad. Alysanne liked Ashara because she never got mad, even when she probably should. It made her feel really bad sometimes.“My lady, I believe the princess has outdone me again,” Ashara gasped, her chest rising and falling from the exertion, as she held onto her knees.“She’s a slippery one,” Barbrey replied, tickling Alysanne’s sides until she squealed with laughter.“I am!” Alysanne declared, wiggling in Barbrey’s arms to prove it. “Slippery like a dragon! And faster than both of you!”“Oh, truly?” Barbrey said, feigning disbelief. “Should we test this theory again, Your Highness? Or shall we find a more dignified way to spend our afternoon?”Alysanne thought about it, her little brow furrowing in concentration. “Let’s go to the gardens!” she said finally, her face lighting up.“The gardens, is it?” Ashara said, brushing a strand of her ebony hair from her face. “And what shall we do there, Your Highness? Another round of hide-and-seek, perhaps?”Alysanne nodded eagerly, her small fingers curling into Barbrey’s shoulder. “And this time, I shall hide so well that no one will ever be able to find me!”Barbrey carried her toward the winding staircase, her arms steady and strong. “We will see about that, little one. But remember, even the best hiders get found in the end and I have plenty of experience in finding my Princess.”Alysanne just smiled. She wasn’t worried. She had plenty of good hiding spots, and she knew the garden as well as anyone. Maybe even better.As they stepped outside, the crisp air kissed her cheeks, and the scent of roses wrapped around her like a hug. The warm summer sun was shining bright in the sky, and the vibrant colours of the blooming flowers spread out before her never failed to make her gasp. They were all so different but still so very pretty! Alysanne wiggled slightly and then gave a true proper curtsy to Barbrey for putting her down. Her feet carried her across the stone pathway, her heart skipping with excitement as they entered the gardens. This was her most favourite place in all the world!She would be five soon – five whole years! That felt so important and grown-up! Everyone had been talking about it for weeks, especially the maids, who were already bustling about, preparing for the celebration.Alysanne stopped for a moment near a cluster of wildflowers, kneeling to inspect a particularly bright yellow bloom. Her tiny fingers brushed over its petals as she thought about the one thing she wanted most for her Name Day.The King. Her father.He was always so busy, always away at meetings or tending to matters of the realm. She understood, Ashara and Barbrey and Dacey had all told her plenty of times, that he was the King of the Seven Kingdoms. People needed him. But sometimes, she wished he would understand that she needed him too, just for a little while. He was her only parent left after all.She had prayed every night, to both the Old Gods and the Seven, that he might come. Her Governess had told her it was good to pray to both, that it showed that she held respect for both her mother’s traditions and her father’s. Alysanne wasn’t sure if that was exactly what she meant when she started her practice, but she prayed anyway. In the godswood, she knelt before the heart tree, whispering her wishes to the ancient face carved into the bark. And at night, under the soft glow of the moonlight, she clasped her hands and whispered to the Seven:
Please, let Father come for my Name Day. Please let him hold my hand and smile at me the way other fathers are to do with their daughters.
She could not help but remember the day she had stumbled across Lord Mace Tyrell and his daughter in the Red Keep’s courtyards. She had not meant to linger – it wasn’t polite to eavesdrop, after all, and she wasn’t supposed to be there in the first place – but the sight had her frozen in place.Lord Tyrell had been bent low, his broad hands brushing dust from his daughter’s skirts after she had tripped on the cobblestones. His expression wasn’t stern or impatient, but soft and full of warmth. His booming laugh filled the air when she pouted about her scraped knee and now dusty skirts, and he leaned close to whisper something that made her giggle. Then he kissed the top of her head, like it was the most natural thing in the world before carrying her away in his arms.Alysanne’s chest had ached in a strange way watching them. She hadn’t been able to stop herself from wondering– Was this what fathers were supposed to do? Were they supposed to laugh and kneel down and care about scraped knees? Were they supposed to hold you in their arms and make you laugh?That night, curled under her blankets, the vision of them stayed with her. She had hugged her pillow tight, imagining what it would feel like if her father held her hand like that, or kissed her forehead, or carried her in his arms. Just once.But the thought had quickly soured into guilt. Her father was the King. He wasn’t like Lord Tyrell, who could spend his days tending to his family and his lands in the Reach. Her father had an entire realm depending on him. Every decision he made affected thousands of lives, and every hour of his day was spent trying to keep the realm at peace.Ashara had explained it to her once, on a day when her heart had been especially heavy. "Your father’s love for you isn’t less just because he cannot show it the way others do," Ashara had said, her voice infinitely gentle. "He has a duty to all the people of the realm. And that duty is heavier than anyone else’s. But that does not mean you’re not in his heart, Alysanne. You are always in his heart.”Alysanne had nodded, trying to be brave and understanding, but deep down, the ache lingered. She knew Ashara was right, she always was, but it didn’t stop her from wishing things were different or feeling sad.Sometimes, she wished she didn’t feel envious at all. She wished she could be as noble as her father, understanding his responsibilities without longing for more of him. But she was just a little girl, like Dacey always said, and no matter how hard she tried to be patient and dutiful, the feelings bubbled up anyway.“It’s not fair of me,” she whispered into the dark, her voice trembling. “He has so much to do. It’s not fair to ask for his time when the whole realm needs him.”But as she clutched her pillow tighter, her heart whispered something else: But I need him too.She sighed softly, brushing her hand over the flowers once more. She couldn’t tell Barbrey or Ashara about this. They would say something kind and comforting, but it wouldn’t change anything. And Alysanne didn’t want comforting words. She wanted him.The thought stayed with Alysanne as she wandered deeper into the gardens, her small fingers trailing over the petals of the flowers, their softness a soothing distraction. She paused beside a blooming rosebush, the deep red blossoms reminding her of the stories Ashara told her about love and devotion.“Do kings love the same way as other men?” she had asked once, her voice small and uncertain.Ashara had smiled, her violet eyes distant, as if remembering something. “They do,” she had said. “But they must love differently too, because their hearts are stretched to hold an entire realm. It does not mean they love less, only that their love is... shared in more ways.”Alysanne had nodded at the time, but standing here now, staring at the roses, she wondered if there was still a small corner of her father’s heart reserved just for her.She bent down, carefully plucking a single petal from one of the roses, turning it over in her fingers. “If I could write a letter to the gods, maybe they would tell him,” she murmured, her voice soft. “Maybe they would whisper in his ear and say, ‘Your daughter misses you.’”The thought made her smile for a moment, but it faded quickly. Letters and ravens were not how gods worked. At least, not the way she’d been told.Alysanne sighed again, her shoulders sagging under a weight she didn’t fully understand. She felt so small, and her father always seemed so far away, like one of the stars in the sky – bright and beautiful but distant, impossible to touch.“Maybe he’ll come this time,” she whispered to herself, trying to hold onto the faintest spark of hope. “Maybe he’ll surprise me. Just this once.”But deep down, she was afraid to believe it too much. Disappointment was heavy, and she had carried it often enough to know she didn’t want to feel it again.Barbrey’s voice broke through her thoughts, calling from the other end of the garden. “Princess Alysanne, where have you gone now? You cannot have started running away already! We thought we were playing hide-and-seek!”“We are!” Alysanne cried, trying to put the thoughts of her father away, and running back to Barbrey and Ashara.“I should have known you’d be among the flowers,” Ashara said, crouching down to meet Alysanne’s gaze. “Did you get lost in your thoughts again, my little dragon?”Alysanne shrugged, not wanting to admit what she’d been thinking about. “Just looking at the roses,” she said instead, glancing down at her feet.She could feel both her ladies studying her. Ashara tilted her head, her eyes softening with understanding. She reached out, gently tucking a stray curl of Alysanne’s hair behind her ear. “Roses are good company for one’s thoughts,” she said softly. “They listen without judgment, don’t they?”Barbrey, standing tall behind Ashara, crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow. “And what big thoughts might a girl with her Fifth Name Day just around the corner have? Surely not which cakes or ribbons she prefers!”Alysanne shook her head, a small pout forming on her lips. “I don’t have big thoughts,” she insisted, though her voice betrayed a hint of defensiveness.Ashara smiled gently, smoothing Alysanne’s sleeve. “Perhaps not big in truth, but important to you. And that matters just as much.”Barbrey crouched down then, her sharp features softening as she looked into Alysanne’s indigo eyes. “You know, Princess,” she said, her voice teasing but kind, “if you keep your thoughts bottled up too tightly, they might turn into little dragons themselves, and we all know how hard it is to tame those.”That brought a giggle from Alysanne, though she quickly covered her mouth with her hands, her cheeks turning pink.“Ah, there it is,” Ashara said, straightening and clasping her hands together. “The sweet sound of our little dragon’s laughter. I was starting to think the roses had stolen it for themselves.”“I wasn’t laughing at the roses!” Alysanne protested, her giggle breaking free again despite her efforts.“Well, that’s good,” Barbrey said, standing up and stretching her arms dramatically. “Because the roses don’t need it, and we do. Now, are we going to play hide-and-seek properly, or is our princess too grown-up for such things?”“I’m not too grown-up!” Alysanne said quickly, determination lighting in her eyes. “I’ll hide so well this time, neither of you will ever find me!”She wasn’t going to get easily caught like she had the past few times they had paid. It was no fun to be caught so easily, and so Alysanne had a great many spots she had searched and found in secret to ensure that Ashara and Barbrey would not be able to find her in ease.Ashara exchanged a knowing look with Barbrey, her smile turning playful. “Oh, is that a challenge, Your Highness?”Alysanne nodded, her dark hair bouncing as she turned and darted off into the garden without another word, she ran away so quickly that she did not hear what both the women she had left behind were saying.Lady Barbrey Dustin laughed, shaking her head as she watched her sworn princess go. “That one has the heart of a wolf,” she said, her voice tinged with sorrow. “Stubborn and fierce, just like her mother.”Lady Ashara Dayne nodded. her gaze soft as she looked in the direction Alysanne had run off in. “And a deep sorrow haunting her, just like her father,” she murmured.Barbrey pointedly ignored the comparison to her father. “Come on, we’ll let her think she’s outsmarted us for a while. It’s good for her spirit.” Alysanne’s small feet pattered softly against the cobblestones as she made her way through the path that would lead her to the secret door to the Red Keep’s Cellars. It was a place she had found in accident while she was roaming around in secret, going to places that she knew she was not to go to. The large dragon skulls decorating the place had left her in awe. She had heard from one of the maid servants that there were huge dragon skulls in her father’s throne room, she had wondered how big they were compared to the ones in the cellars.As Alysanne reached the heavy disguised door that led to the Red Keep’s cellars, she glanced around to ensure no one had followed her. Satisfied that Barbrey and Ashara were still far behind, she pushed it open with a small grunt of effort. The cool air rushed out to meet her as she ran through the darkened tunnels, it carried the faint smells of stone, dust, and something metallic she couldn’t quite place.The cellars were vast and dimly lit, only a few torches flickering along the stone walls. Alysanne’s eyes widened as she stepped inside, her gaze immediately drawn to the enormous dragon skulls that lined the chamber. Even though she had seen them before, their size and presence still made her feel tiny and breathless.The largest skull was monstrous, its cavernous eye sockets staring out like empty voids. She tiptoed closer, craning her neck to look up at the curved horns and sharp teeth that seemed as long as she was tall.Her little hand reached out hesitantly, brushing the smooth, cold bone of the dragon’s jaw. She imagined what it must have been like when this dragon was still alive, soaring through the skies, his shadow darkening the lands below.“I wish I could have seen you,” she murmured. “Maybe one day, I will have my own dragon.”She moved further into the chamber, her small feet barely making a sound on the stone floor. There were other skulls too, smaller but still massive compared to her. She traced their jagged teeth with her fingers, marvelling at how fearsome they looked even in death. She wondered if her father had ever stood in front of the dragon skulls in his throne room the same way, looking at them in awe and thinking of how beautiful they must have been when they were alive.Her thoughts wandered back to him, as they often did. Would he be proud if she were brave like the dragon riders of old? Would he smile if she told him she wasn’t afraid of the dark cellars or the silent, sleeping skulls?“I bet he’s seen these a hundred times,” she said softly to herself, her voice barely carrying in the vast chamber, as she crept in behind the dragon skull. “Maybe even more.”The cold of the cellar crept in as Alysanne sat tucked behind the massive dragon skull, her little hands resting on her knees. The thrill of hiding, of being in a secret place no one else knew about, kept her awake for a while. She imagined her father calling for her, playing along with her games. His voice would be warm and gentle, filled with laughter as he pretended to look in all the wrong places like Ashara and Barbrey did before she scolded them. Dacey never did all of that though.But the minutes stretched on, and the quiet of the cellar began to lull her. The dim light from the torches flickered on the walls, casting long, shifting shadows that seemed to dance. Her eyelids grew heavier with each passing moment, her small body curling tighter for warmth against the cool stone floor.‘I'll just close my eyes for a little while,’ she thought, her head resting against her knees. ‘They'll never find me here anyway...’Before she realized it, the stillness and her daydreams carried her off to sleep. Alysanne woke to the sound of voices. Low and hushed, echoing faintly through the cellar. Her heart leapt in her chest, her first thought being that Ashara and Barbrey had found her. But as her sleepy eyes adjusted to the dim light, she realized the voices weren’t calling her name – they were speaking to each other, whispering so softly that it made it difficult for Alysanne to hear.Dacey always told her that the only reason anyone would speak so softly and secretively in the Red Keep was to make sure that their conversations were not overheard, and so for her own safety she should run away as silently and unassumingly as she could if she was caught in a place like that. But now, she could not help but freeze in place.Silently shaking, her small body instinctively pressed closer to the large dragon skull she had been nestled against. She peered through one of the hollowed eyes, her view of the chamber slightly obscured but still enough to see the two tall men standing near the centre of the cellars.One was bald, dressed in dark, nondescript clothing. His sharp features seemed carved from stone, his expression stern and calculating. The other man was different. His bronze skin glowed faintly in the dim light, and his robes shimmered with warm colours – like the many roses blooming outside the Maidenvault. He held himself with the confidence of someone used to command, like a warrior knight from the songs she liked to hear.Alysanne bit her lip, her heart thudding loudly in her ears as she tried to make sense of their conversation.“How are you so sure the King will accept your nephew?” the bald man asked, his voice carrying a hint of doubt. “It seems Your Highness has forgotten that His Grace already has a trueborn daughter. A daughter of a woman he loved deeply. Why would he place a baseborn child from some other woman above the Princess?”Alysanne’s breath hitched, her indigo eyes widening. His Grace’s Trueborn daughter. They were talking about her!The bronze–skinned man chuckled, the sound low and smooth, sending a shiver down her spine. “That is precisely why the King will accept my nephew instead of the Princess,” he said. “’Tis known by all that His Grace blames the girl for the death of Princess Lyanna. I am sure Lord Lannister is aware of the rumours – he has not even gone to see the child since her birth.”The bald man – Lord Lannister, her father’s Master of Coin she realized – frowned deeply. “Even if that’s true, the people won’t accept it easily. A Dornish child, born of a bastard union, over the Princess? The Lords of the realm will not sit idle. Neither will the North.” He leaned forward, his tone growing sharper. “Rickard Stark may be weakened by the loss of his daughter, but his sons are not. Brandon Stark still burns with the fury of the North over his sister’s death, and Eddard Stark, while quiet, carries his house’s honour like a blade. The North does not forget, and their bannermen will rally to their call. They would never stand by while such an insult is dealt to their sister’s memory.”Rickard Stark. She had been taught that name. Her Lady Mother’s father, who lived in the faraway lands of the North as it’s Warden.The bronze man’s expression darkened for a moment before his smile returned. “The North may rage, but what power do they hold without their dead Princess? The South has little love for wolves, and once Dorne and Casterly Rock lend their support to my nephew, the Starks will be isolated. Their anger will burn out like a candle in the wind when winter comes.”Lord Lannister’s frown deepened as he crossed his arms. “You underestimate them? The North and Riverlands will rise up together – they share blood, and grieved together over what befell Lyanna Stark. Lord Tully will not ignore the cries of his daughter’s kin, and the Whents and Blackwoods won’t remain silent either. And the Vale? Jon Arryn will likely remain neutral, but only because he remembers the insult delivered by the King to Robert Baratheon. That neutrality won’t favour your plans, and it leaves open the risk of Baratheon himself taking up arms in support of the Stark cause. He is still close to Ned Stark”The bronze man looked irritated, but his smile didn’t falter. “Jon Arryn is an old man clinging to his memories of better days. The Vale will do what it always does: stay out of the way, and that neutrality will benefit us in the end. As for the Riverlands, Hoster Tully has no taste for war. He will bark loudly but leave the North to fight its own battles.”Lord Lannister’s gaze narrowed. “And what of the Baratheon boy? If he stirs, the Stormlands will rise, and you’ll have a rebellion stretching from the North to the Stormlands. Have you considered that possibility? Or do you plan to ignore Robert Baratheon’s loyalty to the Ned Stark and his kin?”Bronze man’s smile faltered for a heartbeat, but he quickly recovered. “Robert Baratheon is a hotheaded fool, driven by drink and the memory of a girl he could not have. His bark is worse than his bite.”Alysanne’s heart thundered in her chest as she crouched in the shadows, pressing her small hands over her mouth to stop the sobs that were going to escape her. She did not understand nearly half of what was being said, but what she did terrified her. Her father blamed her for her mother’s death, that he hadn’t even visited her since she was born because of it. Was it true? Did her father really see her as nothing more than a burden?“You underestimate the realm's loyalty to the Targaryen line. The Princess may be young, but her blood ties are pure and strong, her lineage untarnished. Trueborn daughter of two old royal bloodlines. The Lords of the Eyrie, the Riverlands, even the Stormlands – still hold the memory of Princess Lyanna in high regard. They will not so easily cast her daughter aside, no matter how you spin your tale, even if it is for a son.”“That is where the true genius of my plan lies. The Princess is young and fragile, easily removed without much fuss. A tragic accident, a sudden illness… who would question it? And with my nephew already groomed as the perfect heir, the realm would have no choice but to accept him. No one wants the Mad King’s sons on the throne now do they. They want Rhaegar’s children to succeed him, not his brothers. And once my nephew is on the throne, those who might speak out shall find themselves… silenced, one way or another”Alysanne’s small frame trembled, her indigo eyes filling with tears she refused to let fall. They wanted to hurt her. To replace her. She pressed her hand tightly over her mouth, so hardly that it was hurting her, but she couldn’t let them hear her.Silence reigned for a moment and Alysanne wanted to scream at them for stopping. It was so tough to hide her choking back her tears in the silence. She was so scared. She wanted Ashara, or Barbrey, or Dacey, or any of the other maids who took care of her.Lord Lannister sighed, his tone resigned. “Very well. I will consider your proposal. But if we are to proceed, my conditions must be met. A marriage alliance, as we discussed, between my niece and your nephew. And a guarantee that my House will not be implicated should your plan fail.”“Of course,” Bronze man said with a sly smile. “You will have my word – and the gratitude of our king-to-be.”The two men began to move toward the cellar doors, their dark voices fading as they continued their discussion. Alysanne waited until their footsteps had disappeared completely before she dared to move. Her legs felt like pudding as she crawled out from her hiding place, her heart pounding in her chest.She needed to find someone, anyone, who could help her. Ashara, Dacey, Barbrey.Father.Alysanne’s breath came in short, panicked gasps as she scrambled back toward the hidden entrance to the cellars. The dim glow of the torches had long since faded behind her, leaving her to crawl the dark corridors by memory. Her hands trembled as they trailed along the cold stone walls, guiding her back to the familiar cracks and crevices that marked her way out.She had to get out. She had to find someone who would listen, who would believe her. Ashara. Barbrey. Dacey. Their names repeated in her mind like a hymn, grounding her even as her terror threatened to overwhelm her.The tiny door she had entered through loomed ahead, its outline faint in the shadows. Alysanne pushed it open with all her strength, her small body slipping through the narrow passage. The chill of the night air hit her like a wave, stealing her breath and prickling her skin. She staggered out into the open garden, blinking against the sudden expanse of starlit sky.It was night. The realization hit her like a blow. She had fallen asleep in the cellars, and now hours had passed. She could hear distant voices of both men and women echoing through the castle grounds, calling her name with increasing urgency. They were looking for her. Everyone was looking for her.Alysanne’s chest tightened as guilt clawed at her heart. She hadn’t meant to cause trouble. She hadn’t meant to scare them. Tears blurred her vision as she stumbled forward, the weight of the men’s cruel words still heavy in her mind.“Princess Alysanne!” a familiar voice called, sharp with desperation.Alysanne froze. The voice was familiar, soothing even in its panic. She turned toward it, her tear-streaked face illuminated by the pale moonlight.“Ashara!” she cried, her voice breaking.Ashara Dayne emerged from the shadows of the garden, her usually composed demeanour replaced by raw fear. Her lilac eyes were wide, and her dark hair was dishevelled, as if she had been running for hours. When she saw Alysanne, her breath caught, and she darted forward, falling to her knees and pulling the girl into a fierce embrace.“Oh, my sweet girl,” Ashara whispered, her voice trembling. “Where have you been?! We’ve been searching everywhere for you! I thought– ” Her voice broke, and she pressed her face into Alysanne’s hair, holding her tightly. “I thought we’d lost you.”Alysanne clung to Ashara, the warmth of her embrace melting away some of the terror that had gripped her. “I’m sorry,” she choked out, her tears soaking into Ashara’s gown. “I didn’t mean to make you worry.”Ashara pulled back just enough to cup Alysanne’s face in her hands, searching her eyes. “What happened? Where did you go?”Alysanne hesitated, the memory of the scary men flashing through her mind. Her lips trembled as she tried to find the words.“I–” Her voice faltered, and she shook her head, unable to speak.Ashara’s expression softened, and she pulled Alysanne close again, rubbing her back in soothing circles. “It’s all right, my little dragon. You’re safe now. You’re safe.”“Y-You will pr-protect me right Ash?”“Of course, Princess.” Ashara’s voice was firm and reassuring. “You are the one true Princess of House Targaryen, the King’s only child. No one could ever harm you – no matter what they wish. I will protect you with my very life, sweetling. Always.”But a heavy thought lingered in Alysanne’s mind. If what she had heard was true, she was not the King’s only child. Would people readily harm her then? Ashara seemed to sense her fear, for she lifted Alysanne gently into her arms and began to carry her back toward her chambers.“I swear to you, Princess,” Ashara promised softly, “No matter what others say or do, I will always keep you safe.”Alysanne’s eyes, still wet with fear, searched Ashara’s face, a single question lingering in the air. “You promise?”Ashara held her close, the child trembling in her arms. She placed a gentle kiss on Alysanne’s forehead and whispered, “I swear it, on my name as a Dayne of Starfall. No one will ever harm you – not while I draw breath.” A King – silver-haired, noble, and otherworldly – sat alone in his solar, the soft glow of the moon casting long shadows against the decorated stone walls. His gaze was fixed upon the distant horizon of the glittering sea, his cup of Arbor Gold untouched in his hand. The air was still, heavy.The quiet was broken by the measured footsteps of a knight, golden and steadfast, whose loyalty was sworn to his king above all else.“Your Grace,” the golden knight began, his voice steady yet deferent. “The Princess has been found and returned to her chambers.”The King did not turn from the window. “Go on.”“…She bears a few scrapes, which the Grand Maester has already attended to, and she was greatly distraught from being alone for so long. She wept herself into exhaustion and is now asleep.”“And her health?” the King asked, his tone cold and distant, as though the answer mattered more in principle than concern.“She is mildly fevered, Your Grace, though the Grand Maester attributes it to her crying. He assures that she will recover fully within the sennight. Otherwise, she is hale.”The King was silent for a time, his silver brows drawing together faintly. He raised the cup to his lips, drinking deeply of the wine as though its warmth could thaw the chill within him. To the untrained eye, his stillness might seem indifference, apathy even; his features bore no mark of worry or affection, considering that the child he was asking after was none other than his own blood, his only child.“See to it,” he said finally, his voice calm and unyielding, “that the Master-at-Arms increases the number of guards posted at the Maidenvault, the Gardens, the Royal Sept…”The golden knight hesitated for the briefest of moments, uncertain whether to prompt his sovereign.“And?” he ventured softly.“And the Godswood,” the King finished, his tone cool and resolute. “Double the watch. Ensure that the patrols leave no gaps in their rotation. There will be no second incident.”“As you command, Your Grace,” the golden knight replied, bowing low before retreating to carry out his orders.The King remained alone in the quiet of his solar, save for the knight who stood, vigilant, at his side – ever faithful, ever watchful, with Dawn in his grasp.
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
II. The Meeting
Alysanne Targaryen was bored.After the uproar caused by her disappearance – an incident that had thrown the entire Maidenvault into a frantic search lasting half a day – her caretakers had sentenced her a punishment for running away far beyond where she was supposed to play. For the next moon’s turn, she was confined to her chambers, forbidden to wander beyond their big doors.At first, being stuck in her rooms hadn’t been so bad. She had her picture books, her dolls, and the pretty view of Blackwater Bay from her window where she could watch the ships sail. But now, every day felt longer than the last, and everything was just so boring.She had tried sneaking out once – just once! – but it did not work. Dacey’s work no doubt, because now the guards were everywhere. Outside her doors, in the halls, and even in the gardens where she liked to play. Even when she went to the Godswood to see the growing Weirwood sapling that her Lady Mother planted when she first came to Kingslanding – Alysanne’s favourite place to think – they followed her like shadows.She hated it. The guards didn’t talk or play or even smile much. They just stood there, staring at everything like they thought something scary was going to jump at her. She wanted to tell them there were no monsters here, but she didn’t think they’d believe her.Even the growing Weirwood tree wasn’t the same anymore. Its pale bark and red leaves that always made her think of painted ribbons. She liked sitting in front of it and telling it her thoughts, like how much she missed her mother even though she couldn’t remember her, or how sometimes she wished Father wasn’t so busy. But now, with all the guards watching, it felt like the tree was quiet too, like it didn’t want to share its secrets with so many people around.Once, when she sat in front of the tree, she whispered, “I’m sorry you can’t talk with so many people here. I don’t like it either.” One of the guards looked at her funny, and she scowled back at him.She had even asked one of the guards once, “Do you think the tree needs protecting from too?”The man had blinked at her, looking all confused, before saying, “It’s for your safety, Princess.”My safety, she thought, scrunching her nose. She was tired of hearing that. How could she not be safe when there were so many people around her all the time? The only thing dangerous here was how dull everything was getting!With a huff, she stood up from the soft mossy patch where she had been sitting and dusted off her dress. “Fine,” she muttered under her breath. “Let’s go back. I’ll just sit in my boring room again.”Sitting in her boring room with nothing to do always made Alysanne’s thoughts wander to things she didn’t want to think about. And lately, that always meant remembering the scary talk she had overheard in the cellars.She hadn’t meant to listen. She didn’t even really understand everything those men were talking about, but the bits she did catch had made her stomach twist into tight little knots. They wanted to hurt her – to replace her with someone else. Someone they thought would be better, even though she was the King’s daughter.The memory made her throat feel tight. She could still hear the bronze-skinned man’s smooth voice and see his sly smile when he said that her father didn’t even like her, that he blamed her for things she didn’t even mean to do. And then that other man, the bald one, had nodded like it all made sense. Like it wasn’t awful to talk about hurting her just because they thought she wasn’t good enough.Alysanne hugged her knees to her chest, resting her chin on them as she stared at the patterned rug beneath her. It wasn’t fair. None of it was. She wanted to run to her Father and tell him everything and ask him to tell her that they were all wrong, that he didn’t blame her for her mother’s death. But every time she thought about it, the words got stuck in her throat.She wiped at her cheeks with her sleeve when she felt the tears coming. Crying wouldn’t help, even though she wanted to cry all the time lately. Maybe if she told Ashara or Dacey, they would know what to do. But what if the men found out she told? What if they hurt her friends too?“What’s wrong, Princess?”Alysanne looked up to see Dacey Mormont standing in the doorway, her dark brows drawn together in concern. Dacey was tall and strong, with a voice that could be gentle but firm all at once. She was one of Alysanne’s closest friends and was one of her mother’s closest friends. Just seeing her made Alysanne’s heart feel a little less heavy.The little princess sniffled, her hands fidgeting with the hem of her dress. “Nothing,” she mumbled, trying to be brave.Dacey stepped into the room and crouched in front of her, a knowing look on her face. “Now, I might not be as clever as some folks in the castle, but even I can tell when something’s bothering you,” she said kindly. “Is it because you’re stuck here? It’s been a rough few days, hasn’t it?”Alysanne hesitated, then gave a small nod. It wasn’t exactly why she was upset, but it was close enough, and it made her feel better to let Dacey think it was just about being stuck inside.Dacey’s face softened, and she reached out to smooth Alysanne’s dark curls. “I know it’s not fun, little one. But you scared us half to death when you wandered off like that. The guards and all of us – we just want to keep you safe.”Alysanne looked down at her lap, her voice small. “I didn’t mean to scare anyone.”Dacey chuckled softly. “I know you didn’t, Princess. You’re a dragon, after all, always curious and ready to conquer. But you’re still a little dragon, and you need time to grow up well.” She tipped her head, studying Alysanne’s tear-streaked face. “Maybe there’s something I can do to cheer you up. What do you say?”Alysanne hesitated again, then spoke up, her voice barely above a whisper. “Could you… tell me a story? A Northern one?”Dacey brightened at that, “Ah! Yet another northern story for our northern princess! Let’s see, what does our little ice dragon want to hear about.”“…the long night?” Alysanne asked, her fears momentarily forgotten.There was something about Dacey’s stories of the Long Night that both scared and interested her. Sometimes, in her dreams, the stories she heard would play out as though she was actually living them herself! She could almost feel the weight of a great sword in her hands, the cold wind biting at her face. In her dreams, there was always a direwolf at her side, loyal to her, and a great dragon circling above, its roar shaking the icy ground.Those dreams were her favourite! They made her feel brave and strong, like she could face anything. But they also left her with a strange sadness that she never really understood.“Well, my little ice dragon, have you ever heard of the Last Hero?”Alysanne shook her head.Dacey leaned closer, her voice dropping into a conspiratorial whisper. “A long, long time ago, during the Long Night, there was a young man known only as the Last Hero. He wasn’t a king or a great lord, but he was brave, and he knew he had to do something to save the people from the ice monsters that came with the dark winter.”“What did he do?” she asked, her voice filled with wonder.“He set out on a journey. But he didn’t go alone. No, the Last Hero was clever – he knew he’d need help. So, he gathered a group of friends to go with him. There was his loyal direwolf, of course, big and white as the snow. And there was a giant who could move mountains with their hands, and even a child of the forest, wise and ancient, with eyes like summer leaves.”Alysanne’s mouth opened in a small ‘o’ of surprise. “Giants? Real ones?”“Oh, yes,” Dacey nodded. “The giants were strong and fierce, but they were kind to the Last Hero because they knew his heart was true. Together, they travelled through the frozen lands, fighting off monsters and facing dangers no one else dared to. They crossed icy rivers, climbed frozen mountains, and fought creatures that could turn the living into ice with just a touch.”Alysanne shivered, her imagination painting vivid pictures of the Hero and his friends braving the cold and the dark.“But it wasn’t easy,” Dacey continued. “One by one, the Last Hero’s friends fell. The giants gave their lives to hold back the monsters so he could keep going. The child of the forest disappeared into the woods, fighting shadows to protect him. And the direwolf, his closest companion, stood against a great beast of ice so the Hero could escape. In the end, the Last Hero was all alone.”Alysanne’s bottom lip wobbled. “That’s so sad…”“It was,” Dacey agreed. “But the Last Hero didn’t give up. Even though he was cold and tired, even though his heart ached for his lost friends, he kept going. He knew he had to, for their sake and for everyone else. And after a long, long journey, he found the children of the forest. They gave him the secrets he needed to fight the darkness, and with their help, he ended the long winter.”“He won?”“He did,” Dacey said with a smile. “Because he was brave, and because he never gave up. The Last Hero’s courage lit the way for all the people of the North, and they drove the ice monsters back beyond the Wall. The sun returned, and the world was warm again.”Alysanne sat quietly for a moment, turning the story over in her mind. “I think I’d like to have friends like that,” she said softly. “Friends who love me so much they’d stay by me, no matter how scary it was.”“You already have friends like that, Sweetling,” Dacey said gently. “More than you know. And you’ll find even more as you grow. People who will stand by you, no matter what.”Alysanne’s heart ached at those words. She wanted to believe them, but the voices from the cellar were still loud in her mind. The men had talked about her like she didn’t matter, like she was just something that could be replaced. What if no one wanted to stand by her, not really?She looked down at her lap, her fingers fidgeting with a loose thread on her dress. “Do you think I could be brave like the Last Hero? Even when it’s scary?” she asked, her voice small and uncertain.“You already are brave, little dragon. Every time you smile when you’re sad, or stand tall when you’re scared, that’s bravery. The Last Hero wasn’t brave because he didn’t feel fear – he was brave because he felt it and kept going anyway.”Alysanne’s lips curved into a small smile.“Maybe someday I’ll have a direwolf, too,” she said wistfully, thinking of the big white direwolf in her dreams, the one with the pretty ruby eyes. “And a dragon. Like in my dreams.”Dacey chuckled, ruffling her hair playfully. “A direwolf and a dragon?! My, my! The world wouldn’t stand a chance against you, Princess.”Alysanne giggled before leaning into Dacey’s side. “Tell me another story?” she asked, her voice eager.Dacey laughed softly, wrapping an arm around her. “All right, little one. Let me tell you about a warrior from Bear Island who once wrestled a shadowcat and won…”And so, as afternoon sun dimmed into the evening, Alysanne listened to Dacey’s stories of the North. Alysanne had decided she was going to be brave, just like the Last Hero. She still wasn’t sure how he had done it – continuing when everything felt so big and scary – but she was determined to try.So, during her confinement, Alysanne had come up with a plan. If the bad men wanted to hurt her, she would stop them by making everyone love her so much that no one would let it happen!She had already started her plan with the guards outside her door. They always looked so serious, but now she made sure to wish them a cheerful good morning and good evening every single day – she had only done it in the mornings before. She also told them thank you for keeping her safe and even asked questions about their swords. They laughed whenever she did that, and one of them had even mussed up her carefully styled hair once, though Barbrey had given him a glare so sharp it could have cut steel.She didn’t stop there. She was being extra nice to the maids who brought her meals and the Septa who taught her prayers and hymns, smiling sweetly and remembering to say thank you for even the smallest things. Surely if anyone wanted to hurt her, at least one of them would speak up and take her side? Like Barbrey, Ashara and Dacey always did for her mother.Anyway, that was why she was here, a little way from the Maidenvault but still under the watchful eyes of the guards in the gardens. She was gathering flowers to make little flower crowns for everyone who served in her quarters. It was a big task – when she asked Dacey how many people worked in the Maidenvault, Dacey had been unsure and asked Ashara. When Ashara didn’t know either, all three of them had turned to Barbrey, who glared at Ashara and Dacey both before turning to her and answering sternly. “Forty-five maids and fifteen guards,”.Forty-five maids and fifteen guards! That was a lot of flower crowns, but Alysanne didn’t let that discourage her. She had already picked many petunias, cosmos, and morning glories from the gardens right outside the Maidenvault. The kind old caretaker of the gardens gently told her that taking too many flowers from one spot would leave it looking bare, so she decided to walk a bit farther to pick more.“Would you like some roses, Your Highness?” the caretaker had asked her before she left, holding out a beautiful bloom.Alysanne had smiled at him brightly but shook her head. “Thank you, but no!”He had seemed oddly disappointed by her answer, but Alysanne couldn’t explain why she didn’t want the roses. They were beautiful, with their bright reds, soft pinks, and pure whites, and their scent was so sweet. But every time she looked at them, something inside her felt strange, like they weren’t quite right. It was as if she was expecting them to look different somehow, even though she knew roses always looked the same. It was a feeling she didn’t understand, but it made her want to pick other flowers instead.Alysanne wandered further into the gardens, her basket swinging gently in her hand, now brimming with blooms of every colour. She reached out for a cluster of daisies and added them to her growing collection. She hummed softly, a song Barbrey sung to her at bedtime, feeling lighter than she had in days.The air was warm, the gentle breeze rustling through the trees, and Alysanne sat down on the grass, so focused on finding the perfect flowers for her crowns that she did not notice the shadow falling over her. It wasn’t until the light around her dimmed that she froze, her small hands clutching the flower stems tightly.Alysanne turned her face upward, her indigo eyes wide as they met the figure standing above her.He was tall and imposing, his silver-gold hair shimmering like sunlight on water, and his eyes – a dark indigo and sharp as glass – stared down at her with an expression she couldn’t understand. Dressed in a finely embroidered doublet of deep black and red, with the three-headed dragon of House Targaryen shining on his chest in gold thread, and a long cape flowing behind him, the man she was looking at was the prettiest person Alysanne had ever seen in her entire life.She didn’t need anyone to tell her who he was. She had seen him before from a distance during court gatherings, had heard the maids and Septa whispering about him.This was her father. King Rhaegar Targaryen, First of His Name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm.And for a moment, Alysanne forgot how to breathe. She had imagined this moment a hundred times, dreamed of what she would say, how he might smile at her or lift her into his arms. But now, under his piercing gaze, she felt so incredibly small and uncertain.His Grace blames the girl for the death of Princess Lyanna.“Now who is this wandering about in my gardens?”Alysanne clutched her basket tightly, her small fingers gripping the handle as though it were the only thing keeping her steady. The king’s voice had cut through the calm silence – deep, smooth, and commanding.It was the voice of a ruler, not a father.She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Her lips trembled, and her chest tightened under his assessing indigo gaze.Finally, she remembered her lessons, the ones drilled into her by her Governess, Septa and sweet Ashara. She dipped into a curtsy, her knees wobbling slightly but doing her best. “Y-Your Grace,” she managed in a soft, quivering voice.The King tilted his head, his pale, pretty features unreadable. For a moment, his eyes seemed to darken as he studied her face. “That face,” he murmured, cold and distant. “I’ve seen it before.”There was a moment of silence, heavy and so unbearable.“Was it that wench from the North?” His words, spoken with a deliberate drawl, carried a chill that seemed to seep into Alysanne’s bones.Wench?! The word rang in her ears, cruel and sharp, and her fingers further tightened on the handle of her basket.“Y-Yes, Your Grace,” came a voice behind him.It was a knight of the Kingsguard, judging by his armour. Though his violet eyes and familiar looks gave him away as Ashara’s brother, Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. Ash talked about him sometimes. He shifted uncomfortably on his feet as he spoke. His expression was tight, tinged with unease as his gaze flicked to her. Catching her frightened eyes, he offered a faint, reassuring smile, though it did little to quell the fear in Alysanne’s chest.“Yes… you look like her.”The King’s sharp gaze drifted down, landing on the basket clasped tightly in Alysanne’s small hands. The collection of petunias, cosmos, and morning glories amongst others nearly spilling over the edge. His silver eyebrows arched slightly, and his lips curved into a faint, unreadable line.“What is this?” he asked, voice edged with cold curiosity. “Why have you wandered so far from your chambers with a basket of flowers?”“I… I was picking flowers, Your Grace,” she said, her voice small but steady, though her cheeks flushed pink with the effort it took to speak. “To make crowns. For the maids and guards who take care of me.”The King’s pale eyebrow rose higher, and for a fleeting moment, his expression softened into something almost resembling interest “Crowns for the servants?” he asked, his tone somewhere in between confusion and disbelief.Alysanne nodded quickly. “Yes, Your Grace. To thank them.” She hesitated, twisting the basket’s handle nervously before adding in a smaller voice, “And… because I want them to like me.”She stopped herself there, biting back the rest of her thought: Like how everyone liked my Lady Mother. She couldn’t bring herself to say it aloud. He had called her mother that terrible word – wench. A word she knew was bad. Barbrey had scolded a guard fiercely for saying it within her hearing.If it was such a terrible thing to say, how could he – her own father, her mother’s husband – utter it?“You’ve grown a lot,” He said suddenly.The words hung heavy in the air, and Alysanne didn’t know how to respond. Should she thank him? Apologize? Say, I’m sorry that I’ve grown while your wife – my mother – rests beneath the ground?Her lips trembled, but no words came. Instead, her indigo eyes, so much like his, searched his face for something, anything that would prove he cared for her. For warmth. For something more than the cold, distant king standing before her. For a father. But his expression remained unreadable, as though he were looking at a stranger and not his daughter.The King turned slightly, his silvery hair glinting in the sunlight as he spoke again, this time to Ser Arthur. “Carry her,” he instructed, his tone softer but still commanding. “I should have some tea with my guest.”Alysanne blinked up at him, startled.Ser Arthur seemed just as surprised but recovered quickly. “As you say, Your Grace.” He stepped forward, crouching down slightly, he looked less imposing this way. “Princess,” he said kindly, “May I carry you?”For a moment, Alysanne hesitated, clutching her basket tightly. Then, with a timid nod, she allowed Ser Arthur to lift her gently into his arms, careful not to crush her precious flowers.Which was what led her here.Alysanne perched on an oversized chair, her feet dangling far from the floor, in a lavish sitting room she’d never seen before. It was nothing like the Maidenvault! The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries, scenes of dragonriders in battle and lords swearing fealty, and the air carried the faint scent of roses and beeswax. The sunlight streaming in through the tall, arched windows lit up the chamber.Across from her, seated with an ease that seemed almost regal, was the King – her father.Maids scurried about, setting down trays of steaming tea and an assortment of pastries that made Alysanne’s stomach rumble despite herself. She tried not to stare, but her wide eyes betrayed her fascination with the delicacies – flaky tarts filled with glistening fruit, delicate almond cakes, sugared biscuits shaped like dragons, and more! How was she to even remain indifferent?!The maids’ surprise at her presence was poorly hidden. A few exchanged glances, their hands trembling slightly as they poured tea or arranged the dishes. One, a girl with rosy cheeks, almost dropped a plate of lemon cakes when she caught sight of her Princess sitting at the same table as her King.Alysanne sat stiffly, her fingers clutching her basket on her lap.“I didn’t know you couldn’t speak,” he said, his voice calm but with an undertone of cold amusement.Alysanne’s breath hitched, her heart thudding wildly in her chest. She clutched her basket tighter, her knuckles turning white as panic bubbled up inside her. What should she say? What if she said the wrong thing? Would he throw her away like the bronze man and bald lord said he would?“Alys can talk, Your Grace,” she whispered, her voice soft and timid. She glanced up at him hesitantly, trying to offer him her best sweet smile. The one she used when she’d had too many lemon cakes already but still wanted more.Her response earned a slight lift of his brow. “Is that so?” he said, his tone still unreadable. “You’ve been quiet enough to make me think otherwise.”
Was that all he did? Lift his eyebrows?!
“Pardon me, Your Grace,” Ser Arthur chipped in from behind the King. “But little girls around the Princess’ age are known to be shy.”The King turned his sharp indigo eyes towards the knight of the Kingsguard. “Oh really?” he said, his tone carrying the faintest hint of doubt.Alysanne stayed silent, though a part of her wanted to blurt out that, yes, little girls can be shy! Even though shy was a word never used to talk about her. In fact, even grown adults would probably tremble under his cold, sharp gaze. Instead, she forced a sweet smile onto her face – the very smile that had won over the sternest soldiers in the Maidenvault and even softened Dacey when she was in one of her strange moods.Yet the man in front of her, her own father, didn’t even flinch. Not a twitch, not a hint of warmth. Nothing.“Arthur,” the King said suddenly.“Yes, Your Grace?”“Leave us.”Alysanne’s heart sank. No, don’t go Ser Arthur! she wanted to shout, panic bubbling inside her. But the knight merely bowed his head, his expression carefully composed. It was the same look Ashara made whenever she ate the peas she herself didn’t like to show Alysanne that eating her peas wasn’t that bad even though it most certainly was.He glanced briefly at Alysanne, offering a reassuring nod before he turned and left the room, his armour clinking softly with each step.“Alys, is it?” The King asked. “That must be a nickname, a northern one at that.”Alysanne’s eyes darted up to meet his, her heart thudding. She nodded quickly, smiling brightly. “Yes, Your Grace, Lady Barbrey says that she was the one to first call me that.”“Barbrey Ryswell,” he said, almost to himself.“It was five years ago, wasn’t it, when she knelt before me in the throne room? Bold as any lord, she begged to take charge of your education and upbringing.”Alysanne blinked, unsure of what to say. She could scarcely imagine Barbrey kneeling before anyone, much less begging.The King’s lips curled faintly, though it wasn’t quite a smile. “She claimed it was her duty, as your mother’s lady, to take charge of your upbringing. She spoke of honour, tradition, and her loyalty to House Stark.” He paused, his voice turning almost amused. “I thought her impudent, daring to demand so much from her King.”Alysanne’s small hands tightened around the basket in her lap. “Did… did you let her because she’s family?” she asked timidly.He looked at her for a long moment, and then his lips twisted into something like a smirk. “Family?” he echoed. “No, I allowed it because she wouldn’t leave until I did. Few have ever dared to stand in my way, fewer still have survived it.”“Barbrey Ryswell,” he continued, his voice softer but still sharp, “is one of only two people who have defied me and lived to tell the tale. The other…” He trailed off, his indigo eyes narrowing slightly, as though remembering something distant and painful. “The other was your mother.”Alysanne’s heart clenched at the mention of her mother. She opened her mouth to ask something, anything, but the words caught in her throat. He had just insulted her mother a few moments back.The King’s gaze flicked to the table of pastries and back to her. “Why are you just sitting there? Go ahead and eat.”She hesitated, her small hands clutching her basket even tighter. Everything before her looked delicious – almond cakes, sugared biscuits, tarts – but the thought of eating under his watchful eyes made her stomach twist. She remembered Ashara’s gentle advice: One must be calm and happy when eating, else their stomach will hurt terribly. And right now, calm and happy was the furthest thing from what she felt.“I ordered them to bring out something children would like,” the King said. “If you don’t eat, I will have no choice but to punish the cook fo– ”“Thank you!” Alysanne blurted, her voice chirping with forced cheer as she grabbed a fork and quickly stabbed it into the nearest almond cake, placing her basket on the ground. She took a bite, chewing with a determination that made her cheeks puff slightly, all while doing her best to keep her hands steady.Her heart was racing, and she could feel the heat of his gaze on her even as she tried to focus on the pastry in front of her. My face must be as white as a sheet, she thought, struggling to keep the tremor from her hands.The almond cake was sweet and buttery, melting on her tongue, but she couldn’t really taste it. Her tummy felt too twisty, and her heart was thumping so loud it was like it wanted to jump out of her chest. Still, she kept eating because she didn’t want to make him angry.She could feel his eyes on her, like they were burning a hole right through her, even as she nibbled on a lemon cake. She liked lemon cakes; they were her favourite. She finished the whole plate, hoping he’d stop looking at her so hard.“As you sit there,” he suddenly spoke, making her freeze, “are you aware of who I am?”She looked up slowly, meeting his dark eyes that were just like hers.She didn’t understand. She hadn’t understood from the moment he found her in the garden, or when he brought her here with all these sweets. Why was he doing this? What did he want? What was she supposed to say?Her lips wobbled. “F-Father?”The word came out tiny and shaky, and right away, she wished she could take it back. She shouldn’t have said that! What if it made him mad?But he didn’t yell. He didn’t frown. He just looked at her. And then, after what felt like forever, his face changed a little. His eyes weren’t as sharp anymore, and his head tilted, just a bit.Her tiny fists clenched in her lap. She didn’t know why, but she tried again. Her voice was even smaller this time, almost a whisper.“P-P-Papa?”The King blinked, his pretty face unreadable, and then he leaned back in his chair, the faintest flicker of something crossing his face – surprise? Pain? She couldn’t tell.“Papa,” he repeated softly, as though testing the word. His tone wasn’t cruel or mocking, but it made her feel even smaller.Alysanne’s heart thudded painfully in her chest. What if she’d said the wrong thing again? She ducked her head, staring down at the empty plate of lemon cakes. “I–I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice shaking. “I didn’t mean to–”“Don’t apologise,” he interrupted, his voice still quiet but firm.Her wide eyes darted back up to him.“You are not wrong,” he said, though his words sounded strange, almost like he was talking more to himself than to her. “You are my daughter. It is only right that you call me that.”Alysanne’s breath caught. Did that mean… did he not mind? Did he want her to call him that? She wasn’t sure what to feel, but her heart squeezed tightly in her chest.“Papa,” she whispered again, looking up at him with a smile.The King didn’t smile, but the hard lines of his face softened just a little. “Eat,” he said, gesturing to the remaining pastries. “We’ll talk after.”And so, Alysanne Targaryen had survived her first meeting with her father – the King, four years after she was born. Alysanne’s small fingers held onto the handle of her flower basket as Ser Arthur carried her through the halls of the Red Keep. Her heart was still racing, but this time it was cause of relief.The bronze man and the Lannister lord had been wrong. The King didn’t hate her. He hadn’t sent her away or called her horrible names.But… he didn’t love her either.Not like Ashara said he did.By the time they reached the Maidenvault, the chaos was unmistakable. Voices echoed through the stone halls, frantic and full of panic.“Where is she?” Ashara’s sharp tone carried above the din. “How does a child disappear from right outside the walls?! She was under the sight of the guards!”Alysanne peeked over Ser Arthur’s shoulder as he pushed open the heavy doors. The moment they entered, Ashara was upon them. Her violet eyes blazed with a mixture of surprise, fury and relief.“Ashara, she’s safe,” Ser Arthur began, but his sister was already storming toward him, her skirts swirling around her feet.“Safe? Safe?” Ashara’s voice rose, and her hands flew to her hips. “She vanishes without a word, the guards are too frightened to give answers, Barbrey is threatening to flay someone, and you think safe is enough of an explanation?”Her furious gaze snapped to Alysanne, who shrank behind Ser Arthur slightly, clutching her basket tighter. Then, as though noticing her brother for the first time, Ashara’s expression twisted in confusion. “And what in the seven hells are you doing here?”Arthur sighed, his calm demeanour unshaken. “Following orders,” he said simply. “His Grace wished her presence.”Ashara froze, her lips parting in disbelief. “The King?” she repeated, her voice softer now but still incredulous. “He summoned her?”“Not exactly summoned – stumbled upon her more than anything else – but yes,” Ser Arthur replied, tilting his head. “Tea and pastries, if you must know.”For a moment, Ashara just stared at him, as though he’d spoken in Old Ghiscari. Then, her hands fell to her sides, and she turned her attention back to Alysanne. “Flower, is that true?”Alysanne nodded. “He said he wanted to have tea with me when I was picking flowers in the gardens,”Ashara’s shoulders sagged slightly, and a strange look crossed her face – a mixture of exhaustion, frustration, and something close to pity. Why pity? She let out a sharp exhale, dusting her skirts. “Next time,” she said, her tone clipped but softer, “someone will tell inform me about the Princess’ whereabouts before she is whisked away.”Ser Arthur smirked faintly. “I’ll be sure to relay your concerns to His Grace.”Ashara shot him a look that could have felled a lesser man. “Do that,” she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm, before turning back to Alysanne. Her voice softened as she crouched down, brushing a stray curl from the little girl’s face. “You frightened us, flower,” she murmured. “You can’t keep disappearing like this.” “I’m sorry, Ashara. I didn’t mean to.”Ser Arthur cleared his throat. “His Grace mentioned,” he said carefully, “that he would visit Princess Alysanne in the near future.”The whole chamber froze.Ashara’s eyes widened, and her hand dropped from Alysanne’s cheek. Beside her, Barbrey, who had just entered the room with her usual stern expression, stopped in her tracks. The maids and guards standing nearby exchanged stunned looks, their mouths agape.“...Come again?” Ashara asked slowly, her voice laced with disbelief.“He said he would visit her,” Ser Arthur repeated, his tone as casual as if he were discussing the weather. “In the near future.”Ashara blinked, her mouth opening and closing as though searching for words to respond. Finally, she let out a sharp breath and turned her focus back to Alysanne, crouching in front of her. One look at her face and Alysanne immediately knew what was coming. Ashara always made that face when she was about to send her away because she had to have one of her “grown-up” talks. Alysanne clutched her hands together, trying her best not to look disappointed.“Flower,” Ashara said softly. “You’ve had a very long day.”Alysanne blinked up at her. “But I’m not tired, Ashara,” she said honestly, though her voice sounded small even to her. She wasn’t lying – she really didn’t feel tired.Even so, Ashara shook her head, her lips pressing into a firm line. “Nonetheless,” she said, standing and turning to the group of maids who hovered near the doorway like nervous birds. “Lessa, Marna,” Ashara called, her voice steady and commanding, “escort Princess Alysanne to her chambers. Make sure she has everything she needs for the late evening. Summon the Governess. And don’t leave her side.”Alysanne’s chest tightened. She didn’t want to go! Not yet. “But I want to stay,” she blurted, her voice rushing out in a plea. She glanced at Ser Arthur, then back to Ashara. “Please Ashara.”For a moment, Ashara’s expression softened, but she shook her head again and crouched down to meet Alysanne’s eyes. “You will,” she promised, her tone gentle but unyielding. “We’ll talk more later this evening. Right now, you need rest.”Alysanne swallowed her protest. She did not want to upset Ashara, but the feeling of disappointment wouldn’t go away. Slowly, she nodded, taking the hands of the maids and walking to her chambers, even though it felt like giving up. Barbrey’s jaw tightened, and she folded her arms the moment doors closed behind her Princess, her voice low and incredulous. “The King. Visiting the Maidenvault?”Ashara shook her head, trying to make sense of it herself. “And he told you this?” she asked, her gaze fixed on her brother.“Yes,” Her brother replied.Barbrey, stepped forward, her posture rigid, her expression hard as a northerner. “We’ll see if that visit ever actually comes to pass,” she said, her tone biting.Arthur winced, a rare crack in his usual composed Kingsguard façade that he had trained into himself as a child. “The King has been occupied with the affairs of the realm– ”Ashara scoffed before she could stop herself, a sharp, bitter sound that made both Arthur and Barbrey turn toward her. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, a biting remark already on her tongue. “Oh, yes,” her voice dripped with sarcasm. “He’s been so terribly occupied with the affairs of the realm that he hasn’t had a single moment to look after his only child, the child his wife died to birth.”Arthur’s jaw tightened, his silence speaking louder than any rebuttal he could have offered. She recognized that look on her brother’s face, Arthur would never engage in a fight that he could not win, unless of course if it was for Rhaegar.Ashara let out a heavy breath, her fingers pressing against the bridge of her nose as if to stave off the brewing headache. “What does he want, Arthur?” she asked, her voice softer now. “Why now? Why after all these years?”“I don’t know,” he admitted. “But he seemed… sincere.”Barbrey let out a short, bitter laugh. “Sincere? About a child he’s ignored for nearly five years?”“You act as if he threw her to the wolves– ” Arthur began, upset his chosen King’s righteousness was being questioned.“That would have been a far better alternative!” Barbrey’s voice rose sharply, cutting him off. Her grey eyes blazing with fury. “The wolves would have taken far better care of her – they are her kin!”She thought of House Stark, and their repeated pleas to take care of the Princess after the death of her mother.
Ned.
Ashara felt the ache in her chest bloom again, raw and sharp, an old wound reopened. She pushed the thought away, burying it before it could bother her further, like she always did these days.Arthur opened his mouth again as if to respond, but Ashara cut him off with a sharp wave of her hand. “Enough,” she snapped, her voice weary. She turned away, pacing toward the hearth, staring into the flames as if they might offer answers.
Mayhap I should become a Red Priestess.
“This isn’t the time for blame. The King has said he’ll visit. We’ll see if this promise means anything to His Grace.”It was strange referring to Rhaegar as His Grace. He had been one of her closest friends at a time. But that had been a time before Lyanna Stark’s death.A silence fell, heavy and tense, as it did these days when talk of Rhaegar came up. Ashara turned back, her eyes meeting her elder brother’s, “But make no mistake, Ser” she glared. “If he hurts the Princess, we will not be silent. I will involve House Stark.”Barbrey stood to the side, arms crossed, her mouth set in a grim line of agreement.Her brother inclined his head in acknowledgment. Without another word, he turned on his heel and left, the sound of his boots fading into the distance, as she sat down on the chaise in exhaustion.Ashara couldn’t help but wonder if the North’s current isolation was truly a good thing. If the Starks had known how Lyanna’s daughter was being treated by her father, they would have all marched on the Capitol themselves, demanding Alysanne to be given to them. But the rumours had not reached Winterfell, or if they had, they were likely dismissed – it was no secret just how much the King loved his Lady Lyanna after all, why ever would he not care about the daughter he had with her.The North had remained quiet, licking their wounds after the chaos that was the overthrowing of Aerys and the death of Lyanna five years ago.Barbrey moved to stand near the window, her figure a silhouette against the evening light filtering through the thick glass panes. Ashara knew the Northerner wanted to speak, wanted to ask her questions, she was the one who knew the King after all – well, knew the man who he had been once.“Do you think he truly means to come?” Barbrey finally broke the silence. She did not turn back.“I do not know,” She admitted, “’Tis hard to tell with Rhaegar these days. He is not the man he once was.”Barbrey let out a derisive snort. “Was he ever the man you thought he was?”Ashara flinched, but she did not argue. How ever could she. Rhaegar Targaryen was so many things – King and Bard, Scholar and Warrior, Dreamer and Ruler. Yet above all, he had been a man who loved. And he had loved Lyanna Stark. More than anything else in the world, he had loved her.Ashara pressed her palms to her eyes, as if she could block out the memories. “He wasn’t always like this,” she murmured. “He wasn’t always like this. There was a time when he was kind, thoughtful. He cared for those around him. But somewhere along the way, that part of him… it…
It died.
It died when Lyanna died.That terrible day in the Great Hall when Aerys, in all his madness, had Jonothor Darry press a blade to Lyanna’s throat, daring Rhaegar to continue on with his plans. That had been the end of the Rhaegar they had all known.Barbrey finally turned around to look at her. “If it ever truly existed.”Ashara’s hands fell to her sides, her dark eyes meeting Barbrey’s. “It did,” she said, a flicker of defiance in her voice. It was hard, to not be loyal to Rhaegar, even after all these years. “Once. But Lyanna’s death…” She trailed off, unable to put the rest into words. It was a wound that still festered, no less painful with the passage of time.They had all loved Lyanna. Barbrey. Arthur. Ashara herself.Rhaegar.Barbrey finally spoke, her voice quieter now. “We all lost her,” she said, her gaze steady. “But we did not abandon her daughter. He did.”
----- CHAPTER BREAK -----
III. Of Blue Blooms and The Pains They Cause
The next few days passed in a blur, her usual classes with the Septa and Governess continuing on like nothing had changed. Even though everything had changed and so had everyone. Since Ser Arthur dropped her off that day, the whole of Maidenvault has been so excited.Alysanne did not know how to feel.She tried to keep herself busy, crafting the flower crowns for her maids and guards, listening to the Septa’s hymns, and practicing her letters, but her thoughts often drifted back to her father.She wanted to see him again, to talk to him, to show him that she could be the kind of daughter he might want to keep close. She even practiced her curtsies and greetings in front of the mirror!Alysanne wanted so badly to impress him. To be someone he would want to see again, someone he might even love. Even though he scared her a little bit. She thought of all the things Ashara and Barbrey had taught her – how to speak politely, how to hold herself with grace, how to be a princess. Maybe if she did everything perfectly, he would smile at her like Ashara said he once smiled at her mother.
Look at him calling her names, did he even care about her in truth?!
One afternoon, as the warm sun bathed her chambers in golden light, Alysanne sat curled up by the window, her hands busy weaving a crown of daisies and petunias. Her fingers worked neatly, but her mind was elsewhere.She had been dreaming about this for as long as she could remember, had she not? Sitting with her father, hearing his voice, feeling his hand rest gently on her head like she’d seen other fathers do with their children. She’d imagined him smiling at her, telling her she was his daughter, that he loved her so very much.But she was scared too.What if he did not like her? What if she wasn’t what he wanted?Worse still, what if he sent her away?It had not seemed like he truly cared about her, or her mother. The way he was, was nothing like Ashara said he would be. He even called her lady mother a bad word – she still hadn’t mentioned that to Ashara, Dacey or Barbrey – she did not know what to do. Whose words was she to believe?Alysanne wanted to be brave, like the heroes in the songs, like Dacey said she already was even though she knew she wasn’t. It was hard to be brave when the thing you wanted most in the world also scared you more than anything else.“Princess?”She looked up to see Barbrey entering her chambers, dressed in a brown gown, prettier than the ones she usually wore. She closed the door behind her and stepped closer towards her. She looked troubled and uncertain, and it made Alysanne feel confused.“Alys… the King… he has sent for you.”Alysanne’s hands froze, a half-finished crown slipping from her fingers. Her heart skipped a beat. “He… he wants to see me?”“Yes,” Barbrey said, before kneeling in front of her. “He has asked for you to join him in his solar.”Alysanne’s chest tightened with a mix of excitement and nerves. She scrambled to her feet, smoothing down her dress.Barbrey smiled faintly and held out her hand. Alysanne hesitated for only a moment. She had so many doubts and so many unanswered questions. But she trusted everyone who took care of her, including Barbrey, so she placed her small fingers in Barbrey’s bigger one. Together, they left the Maidenvault, guards and maids bowing as they walked.The journey through the Red Keep felt like a lifetime, each step making Alysanne’s heart race faster. When they finally reached the doors of the King’s solar, she hesitated, her tiny fingers clutching Barbrey’s hand.Two knights stood by the door, tall and shiny in their white cloaks. Alysanne’s wide eyes darted to the first one. His hair was golden, glowing like the sun, and his green eyes sparkled like emeralds. He looked just like a knight out of the songs, the kind who saved princesses and fought monsters. This was most definitely Ser Jaime Lannister. He was so handsome it made her feel shy.The other knight wasn’t as shiny or handsome, he had yellow hair – like the daffodils in the gardens! – and big blue eyes that reminded her of the sea. He looked friendlier than the Ser Jaime, like he might tell jokes or help her reach the lemon cakes on the high table like the knights around her chambers. Must be her father’s former squire, Ser Myles Mooton.She curtsied to both of them, “Ser Jaime, Ser Myles”.Ser Jaime inclined his head slightly, his expression cool but not unkind, respectful. “Your Highness,”Ser Myles, however, broke into a wide grin, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. He dipped into an exaggerated bow, low enough that it made Alysanne giggle. That wasn’t how knights were supposed to bow! “My my, had I known I would be meeting a Princess today, I’d have taken more care with my appearance,” he teased warmly, it was like they’d known each other for years. “My humble greetings, Your Royal Highness. It is an honour to finally meet you.”Alysanne giggled again, a soft, shy sound. The way Ser Myles spoke made her feel like a proper little lady, even as the butterflies in her stomach fluttered wildly.“Enter,” the King suddenly called out.“Off you go then, Your Highness.” Ser Myles smiled.The heavy wooden doors creaked open, and Alysanne peeked inside. The room beyond looked enormous, even bigger than her chambers. Sunlight streamed through tall windows, casting pretty golden patterns on the stone floor. The walls were lined with shelves of books and scrolls, and the air smelled faintly of parchment and something like ink.Her father was seated behind a large desk, piled with more parchment and books. The sunlight behind him, cast a golden glow over his silver hair. He looked even prettier than Ser Jaime!Alysanne stepped forward, her heart pounding as she took her place before him. She squared her shoulders, stood as tall as her small body allowed, and dipped into a perfect curtsy. From the corner of her eye, Barbrey had fallen into a curtsy as well.“Hello father,” she greeted, her voice as steady as she could make it be.“My greetings, Your Grace.” Barbrey followed.“Rise.”Barbrey stood gracefully, though Alysanne noticed the faintest flicker of surprise on her face. She didn’t think Barbrey ever expected to be here, in front of the King. Alysanne straightened up too, her hands nervously clutching the sides of her pretty blue gown as she looked up at her father.The King’s indigo eyes moved from her to Barbrey. “It has been a long time since we last met, Lady Ryswell,” he began, his voice softer now but still strong like a King. Which made sense considering he was actually a King.The King.“I am grateful for your service and care. My duties to the court and the realm have kept me from paying enough attention to my one and only daughter. But still, Alysanne has grown into a healthy and bright child. The credit belongs to you.”Barbrey bowed. “Your Grace is kind to say so. The Princess has been a joy to look after.”The twist of her lips gave it away that Barbrey was evidently upset. Alysanne did not understand why she was upset, the King just complimented her.His gaze returned to Alysanne, his face gentling. “However, from this day forth” he said, his tone resolute, “I will personally be looking into the Princess’ well-being. There will be no need to worry.”
What?
Alysanne blinked up at her father, her young mind struggling to make sense of his words. Personally looking into my well-being? That sounded nice, did it not? Like he might spend more time with her, like other fathers. But something about the way Barbrey’s lips pressed into a tight line, and the flicker of upset and – was it hurt? Why was Barbrey hurt? – something else, all made Alysanne’s chest feel funny.She turned her gaze back to the King, who continued speaking in that strong, steady voice. “Starting today,” he said, his tone making it clear that this was not up for debate, “Princess Alysanne will be treated as a proper princess of the realm. Arrangements will be made to ensure she receives all the education, care, and attention befitting her station.”Barbrey bowed her head again, murmuring, “As Your Grace commands.” Her voice was perfectly polite, but it wasn’t happy or jovial like Alysanne expected it to be.The King gestured for them to go, turning his attention back to the parchments and books on his desk. Barbrey curtsied deeply before guiding Alysanne out of the solar. The heavy doors shut behind them with a resounding thud.In the hallway, the silence between them felt strange. Alysanne looked up at Barbrey, who seemed lost in thought, her lips pressed into that same tight line. The little girl’s own thoughts were a tangled mess. Treated as a proper princess? What did that mean? Had she not been a proper princess all this while?
Perhaps I would have been a proper princess of the realm if my father the king paid more attention to me.
She reached for Barbrey’s hand, clutching it tightly. Barbrey blinked down at her, as if just realizing how unsure Alysanne felt, and probably looked about this whole thing. Her face softened immediately. Without a word, she knelt down and pulled Alysanne into a tight hug.The sudden embrace made her eyes widen, but then she melted into it, wrapping her little arms around Barbrey’s neck. “Barbrey,” she whispered, her voice small, “I do not understand what’s happening.”Barbrey stroked her hair gently, the usual firmness in her demeanour giving way to something warm and comforting. “Oh, my sweet girl,” she murmured, her voice quieter than Alysanne had ever heard it. “You don’t have to understand everything right now. Just know that you are so loved. No matter what changes, that will not ever change.”Alysanne buried her face in Barbrey’s shoulder, holding on tightly. She wanted to believe her words, but the knot in her chest wouldn’t go away.Just this once I’ll let myself believe. She thought. Maybe those men were wrong. Maybe my father does care for me. Maybe he really does want me, like Ashara has always said. Her father and she had shared tea three times since that first meeting in his solar. Their second tea time – their first scheduled one, with the knowledge of Ashara, Barbrey and Dacey – had been much the same as the first: quiet, formal, and filled with long stretches of silence that made her feel small and unsure.It was awkward and terribly frightening – her heart raced every time she had to speak, and she had been so careful to sit straight, to mind her manners, and to answer only when spoken to, all the lessons she had been taught in her mind constantly. Yet, the more timid and careful she acted, the more her father seemed… confused. His face, always so stern and unreadable, grew stiff, like he didn’t quite know what to do with her.By the time of their second tea, Alysanne decided to try something different. She let her guard down – just a little. Instead of sitting perfectly straight and speaking only when spoken to, she tapped her fingers against the edge of the table, refused her lemon cakes until they were cut just the way she liked – his face had changed at that in a very strange way – and even interrupted him once or twice with her small voice.To her surprise, he did not scold her, nor did he look disappointed. Instead, he seemed less stiff. His face did not soften into a smile – she wasn’t sure if her father could even smile – but it did not look so distant either. His expression was calm, his sharp indigo eyes more thoughtful than cold. Alysanne could have sworn he even seemed… pleased.By their third tea, just five days ago, she had grown bolder still. When he offered her fruit tarts, she wrinkled her nose and asked for lemon cakes instead. When he asked about her lessons, she confessed she found the Septa’s hymns boring and preferred the stories Dacey told her about heroes and knights. And when he said she was a bright child, she leaned forward and declared, “I know!” in a cheeky tone that made her heart pound with nervousness after the words escaped her lips.Still, he didn’t scold her. He watched her with that same quiet intensity, his face almost – not quite – relaxed. She began to wonder if he liked her better this way, a little bit wild, a little bit bold. Like herself.This whole thing was turning out to be yet another case of Ashara always being right.Now five days later, she was summoned again – but not for tea. Not that she ever drank tea during their tea time, she was apparently too young for anything but milk. Even though milk was so boring.Today, she found herself standing in the King’s Private Audience Chamber, which looked even grander and more imposing than even his solar. Barbrey had fixed her hair neatly, but Alysanne’s small fingers tugged at the braids as she waited, her nerves tingling with a mix of excitement and unease.Her father sat on a tall throne of dark red and black, his silver hair shining prettily by sunlight coming through the big windows. When he looked at her as she entered, his indigo eyes were steady but not unkind.“We are going boating today,” he said simply, his voice calm as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.“Boating?” she repeated, wide-eyed.“Yes. On the Blackwater River,” he clarified.“Your Grace,” Ashara cut in all of a sudden, standing beside her in a flowing violet gown. Her voice was polite but edged with worry. “I’m not sure it’s safe for the Princess to be around such large bodies of water at her age…”Alysanne frowned, wanting to pull at Ashara’s skirts and scold her. She wanted to go boating! She had never even left the Red Keep in her whole life! She was almost five now – practically a grown-up. Of course, she was big enough to go on a boat.“What is there to worry about,” her father said, his usual iron tone cool, “when she will be there with me?”Ashara stammered, her hands wringing nervously. “B-but, Your Grace, the waters can be unpredictable, and she is so– ”Alysanne gave into her wishes and tugged at Ashara’s skirts, giving her the fiercest look she could manage. She didn’t say anything, but she hoped her glare was loud enough: Stop talking! I want to go!Her father stood from his throne and stepped closer, his tall frame casting a long shadow over her, blocking the sun. Once, that would’ve made her tremble. Now, it didn’t feel so scary. He stopped a few paces away, looking down at her with that calm, thoughtful expression.“Do you not wish to go?” he asked, his voice measured, his head tilting slightly.“I do!” she blurted out, her excitement bubbling over so fast she couldn’t stop it.He raised one silver brow, and for the briefest moment, something that might have been amusement flickered across his face. “Then we should go,” he said simply.Alysanne’s heart soared. She could hardly believe it. She was going outside the Red Keep – and on a boat!The King extended his hand toward her, his palm open, motioning for her to hold it. Alysanne blinked at him, her small face full of wonder, before hesitantly reaching out to take it, holding her father’s hand for the first time! His hand was warm and steady, and she gripped it tightly as they began walking.She walked side by side with him, her steps small but eager. Sers Arthur and Myles fell in behind them, their white cloaks fluttering with each stride. From behind, she could hear Ashara’s voice in hurried whispers, speaking to her brother, most likely.She paid her no further mind, walking beside the King, her tiny hand nestled securely in his, they passed through the grand halls of the Red Keep. The clatter of her soft-soled shoes on the stone floors echoed faintly, mixing with the swish of her father’s regal robes and the fluttering of the Kingsguard’s white cloaks. They hadn’t gone far before they began encountering lords and ladies – some mid-conversation, others emerging from shadowed archways.At the sight of the King and the Princess walking hand in hand, their expressions shifted to shock, eyes widening as if they could not quite believe what they were seeing. Each person halted abruptly, bowing deeply to them.Alysanne smiled at every one of them as brightly as she could, her cheeks beginning to ache from the effort. It wasn’t a forced smile – she still wanted everyone to like her after all.When they reached the outdoor courtyard, sunlight spilled over the stones, making the air warm and golden. Waiting for them was a small party – Ser Jaime, shining prettily as always in his polished armour, accompanied by another knight of the Kingsguard. He was older, tall and weathered, with white hair and pale blue eyes. Alysanne’s curious gaze lingered on him.“It seems Ser Barristan will be joining us this noon,” Ser Myles called out, smiling warmly.Alysanne’s eyes widened. Ser Barristan the Bold! She had heard so many stories of him – how he fought bravely in wars and saved her grandfather once. Her rightful admiration of one of the greatest knights the Seven Kingdoms has ever seen was interrupted when she noticed the rest of the party: a few maids and servants holding baskets and what looked like cushions and blankets. But what truly caught her attention were the horses.There were several of them, all saddled and waiting. They stood tall and proud in different colours, their manes shining in the sunlight. Alysanne stared at them in awe.She had always wanted to ride a horse, but had never been given the chance.“Do you want me to lift you onto one?” The King asked, his calm voice cutting through her thoughts.Alysanne hesitated, then glanced up at him shyly. “I’ve… I’ve never ridden a horse before.”The King paused, his indigo eyes widening in what could only be described as genuine shock. His expression hardened a moment later, and his head turned sharply toward Ashara, who stood a few steps behind.Ashara paled under his glare, though Alysanne didn’t understand why he was looking at her like that.Ser Arthur, stepped forward with an easy smile. “Your Grace, if it pleases you, I could carry the Princess with me on my horse.”“No,” the King said immediately, his tone leaving no room for argument. “Alysanne will ride with me.”Without another word, he hoisted her up onto a sleek, dark brown horse, his hands steady and sure. Alysanne gasped softly as she found herself sitting higher than she’d ever been before.He mounted smoothly behind her, his strong arms securing her in place. “Hold on,” he said simply, his voice quieter now, though strangely there was some sort of sadness in his voice. She could not understand it, and did not bother trying to.Alysanne wrapped her hands around the saddle horn, her little heart thundering with excitement. She was on a horse, going to go outside the Red Keep, and about to go on a boat!“We will take the River Row through to the King’s Gate out.” Her father commanded, before riding out of the bronze gates.The streets outside the Red Keep were busy with so many people! Filled with people who she assumed to be merchants – she was pretty sure according to Dacey’s stories that they were the ones shouting their wares, children darting between carts, and other common folk going about their day. Everything was louder, brighter, and more chaotic than anything she had ever known.She craned her neck to take in as much as she could, her head swivelling from side to side, trying not to miss anything. There were so many people, so many faces! Stalls lined the streets, loaded with goods ranging from colourful fabrics to glinting trinkets – she wanted to get some of those. Alysanne even spotted a cart full of apples, their red skins gleaming in the sunlight.The horse beneath her moved with a rhythmic gait, and she found the motion strangely exhilarating. Sitting so high up gave her a sense of freedom she had never experienced before. The wind played with her hair, and for the first time in her life, she felt like she could do anything, as if she could go anywhere, do whatever she wanted. Horse riding was so much fun!Her little hands clung tightly to the saddle horn, but her heart soared. So this is what it feels like to be outside, she thought, her face alight with giddy wonder.Then, a strange odour hit her nose – an awful, fishy smell that made her scrunch her face in distaste. She wrinkled her nose and turned her head, trying to escape the stench, but failing to do so.Behind her, she heard something that stopped her thoughts right in their path. Her father chuckled – a soft, low sound that she had never heard from him before. Startled, she twisted her neck to look up at him, her wide indigo eyes filled with surprise. He had been watching her this whole time, his indigo gaze warm with something that might have been amusement.“Fishmonger’s Square,” he said, his voice lighter than usual. He gestured toward a gate just ahead. “There is a fish market on the other side of that gate. It is the reason behind why it smells so strongly here.”“Oh,” Alysanne murmured, still blinking up at him, her earlier surprise slowly giving way to a shy smile. The idea of her father chuckling, of him taking the time to explain something to her, felt almost magical. She wished to savour it.She turned her head back towards the lively square, trying to imagine the market beyond the gate. As they rode on, the fishy odour faded, replaced by the fresh breeze from the river, and Alysanne’s thoughts lingered on her father’s unexpected chuckle.It was a very soothing and comforting sound.Alysanne’s wide eyes continued to drink in every detail of King’s Landing as they rode through the streets. The city was just so alive with movement, colour, and sound. She could not stop herself from twisting this way and that, trying to take in everything.Eventually, they approached a massive gate guarded by men wearing gleaming gold cloaks, none of them were as pretty as Ser Jaime or Ser Arthur though, much to her disappointment. Ser Jaime and Ser Barristan, who were riding ahead, stopped to speak with the guards. Alysanne tilted her head curiously, her gaze fixed on the men in gold cloaks.“Who are they?” she asked, looking up at her father.“The City Watch,” he replied, his voice patient. “They are responsible for keeping the peace in King’s Landing and protecting the people within the city.”“Why do they wear gold cloaks?”“They wear gold cloaks because of a prince named Daemon Targaryen. Long ago, he reorganized the City Watch, giving them uniforms and ranks. The gold cloaks were meant to make them proud of their station, much like the white cloaks of the Kingsguard.”Alysanne nodded. White knights and Golden knights. It would be amazing if there were knights of every colour like that. The City Watch knights opened the gates with, stepping aside to kneel before their king. Her father inclined his head toward them, a subtle acknowledgment of their gesture, before leading the party out of the city.The air changed as soon as they left King’s Landing behind. It was fresher here, carrying the earthy scent of trees and the faint tang of the river. Alysanne took a deep breath, enjoying the difference. Before long, the party came to a stop near a cluster of large, leafy trees that cast cool shadows over the area.Her father dismounted first, his movements fluid and sure. Turning back to her, he extended his arms. “Come, Alysanne,” he said.She reached for him with a comfort she did not think she had, and he lifted her down from the horse with ease, setting her gently on the ground. The maids and servants began unpacking their supplies, spreading out blankets and cushions to create a cozy area. Ashara joined them, her violet gown swishing softly as she moved.But Alysanne’s attention was captured by the river and the boat docked nearby. She gasped in delight and ran toward it, her excitement carrying her far past Ashara’s worried calls to slow down.The boat was breathtaking. Its dark grey hull gleamed in the sunlight, adorned with such grand silver embellishments and delicate pale blue roses painted along the sides. Two plush blue-cushioned seats faced each other under a small canopy with grey and silver curtains swaying gently in the breeze. Behind it, a handful of other boats bobbed on the water, pretty in their own right, but none as beautiful as the first.Alysanne stood at the riverbank, marvelling at the beauty of the boat. “It’s so beautiful!” she exclaimed. Ashara, having caught up, hovered nervously beside her, as if ready to intervene if Alysanne got too close to the edge.
Silly Ashara, I am not that foolish that I will fall into the river.
“Why are the roses painted blue?” Alysanne asked curiously, tilting her head to examine the painted blooms. “I thought roses were only red, pink, or white.”The cheerful hum of conversation among the servants stilled, leaving an unexpected silence. Alysanne blinked, confused by the sudden quiet. Had she said something wrong? It was only a simple question. Just as she opened her mouth to apologize or ask someone why everyone became silent, The King spoke, the iron tones of his voice calm and low.“Blue roses do exist,” he said, stepping forward to stand beside her. “They are much rarer than other roses, and far more precious. Winter roses, we call them, for they bloom only in the cold Winter, and are the most beautiful of them all when they do.”“Winter roses,” Alysanne repeated softly, the words rolling on her tongue like a secret. She looked up at him, her indigo eyes wide with wonder. “Have you ever seen one?”“Yes,” he said, his expression unreadable, though his voice carried a weight that Alysanne could not quite understand. “I have seen them.”“Can I see them?” she asked, her voice hopeful. She was fond of roses and loved the thought of seeing a new rose that she had not known about.“No,” the King said, his voice firm and distant, as though his thoughts had already moved elsewhere. “You cannot see them. They are all dead and gone with the winter.”And before Alysanne could even respond, he turned and gestured toward the boat. “Now, stop dawdling and sit. We have wasted enough time.”Alysanne pouted, disappointed. She had wanted so badly to see the rare winter roses he spoke of. But she bit back her protest and obediently stepped onto the boat, her small feet cautious against the wooden planks. Settling herself on one of the plush blue-cushioned seats, she tried to focus on the beauty around her rather than her disappointment.Her father took the seat opposite her, his long frame reclining slightly, his silver hair catching the sunlight as he basked in its warmth. Alysanne couldn’t help but glance at him from time to time, wondering why he seemed so out of it all of the blue. She had just asked about flowers.From the corner of her eye, she noticed Ser Jaime, Ser Arthur, and Ser Myles boarding another boat nearby. Their white cloaks trailed behind them as they settled into their seats. They all had removed their armour for some strange reason, dressed in similar looking warm white attire. On yet another boat, Ser Barristan too sat beside Ashara, the older knight’s soft and happy demeanour contrasting with Ashara’s evident unease as she glanced repeatedly toward Alysanne.The boat began to glide smoothly along the river, and Alysanne felt her earlier disappointment fade, replaced by a sense of thrill. The gentle rocking of the boat, the soft lapping of water against the sides, and the sparkle of sunlight on the rippling surface were mesmerizing!She leaned over slightly, peering into the clear water where tiny fish darted about, their silvery scales catching the light. She giggled softly at the sight, marveling at how free they seemed, swimming wherever they pleased.Then, something else caught her eye. Among the reeds and water lilies, she saw a cluster of pale blue flowers floating serenely on the surface. Blue lotuses! Alysanne’s mouth fell open in surprise. She had only ever read about pink lotuses in her books; she hadn’t known blue ones existed. Much like these blue Winter roses, it seemed.She glanced at her father, hoping to point them out, but he seemed lost in thought. His dark eyes were unfocused, gazing at some distant tree, his expression unreadable. She hesitated, then turned her attention back to the flowers. One lotus seemed particularly close to the boat, its petals shimmering like silk in the sunlight.A sudden desire to have one for herself swelled within her. Without thinking, she stood, her small hands gripping the edge of the boat for balance as she leaned out toward the flower.
Just a little further.
If I stretched just a bit more…
The very next moment, the world tipped. She let out a startled gasp as she toppled over the side of the boat and plunged into the river.Cold water engulfed her, shocking her senses. Her small arms flailed as she struggled to surface, but the weight of her soaked dress pulled her down. She tried to scream, but her mouth filled with water, and she choked, her lungs burning.Above the water, her father remained lost in thought, unaware of her plight.It was Ser Jaime Lannister who noticed first. “Princess!” he shouted, his voice sharp with alarm.The cry broke through The King’s reverie. His head snapped up, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the boat – and then the water. When he spotted her struggling form sinking below the surface, his expression shifted into something shocked.Which made sense she supposed as she struggled to keep afloat, because she was supposed to be on the boat.As Alysanne’s vision began to blur, she saw a splash of gold and white – someone had leapt into the river, water splashing around them.
Are you coming to save me?
Darkness edged her sight as her breath gave out completely, and she felt herself sinking deeper. Just before she succumbed to the river’s cold pull, a stronger force seized her, pulling her upward.She gasped desperately trying to take in air as she broke the surface. Her father’s arms were around her, holding her close as he lifted her out of the water. Ser Jaime was beside them, helping steady her as her father carried her back onto the boat.Gasping and trembling, Alysanne clung to her father’s now soaked tunic, her tiny body wracked with coughs as she expelled water from her lungs. Her father’s grip on her was strong, his voice low as he murmured words she couldn’t quite make out. Her chest hurt so terribly she could not do or say anything.The world around Alysanne buzzed with activity, though it all felt distant and muted. Her small body shivered uncontrollably, both from the cold water and the lingering fear that gripped her. She coughed violently, each sputtering gasp clearing the river water from her lungs. Her fingers clutched her father’s tunic tightly, seeking the warmth and solidity he offered.The boat rocked slightly, scaring her as Ser Jaime climbed back on board, his wet golden hair plastered to his face, grim but relieved. “She is safe, Your Grace,” he said, though his voice was laced with an edge of tension. His eyes flickered briefly to the King, as though gauging his reaction.Alysanne did not look up, but she could feel the muscles in her father’s arms taut with barely restrained tension. His tunic clung to his frame, dripping with water, but he did not seem to notice. His dark eyes bore down on her, and when she finally dared to look up, she was scared by how angry he looked.“I-I just wanted…” she croaked, her voice small and trembling. She glanced toward the cluster of blue lotuses, now swaying innocently in the gentle current, mocking her almost. “I’m sorry…”Her father’s eyes followed her gaze, lingering on the flowers for a moment. When he looked back at her, his expression softened – though only slightly. He exhaled slowly, and his grip on her shifted, becoming less rigid and more… of something else.“You frightened me, Alysanne,” he said, his voice quieter now, but still carrying an unshakable authority. “You will never do that again.”“I won’t,” she promised quickly, her small hands still clutching his tunic as if letting go might send her tumbling back into the water. “I promise.”He studied her for a moment longer before nodding. Then, with a glance at Ser Jaime, he said, “Thank you. You acted quickly.”“It is my duty, Your Grace” Jaime replied, though there was a flicker of pride in his tone. “I am glad I was here.”The boats glided toward the shore with urgency, their occupants silent save for the rhythmic splash of oars and the occasional concerned murmur. The world still felt like it was spinning too fast for Alysanne to keep up. Her throat was scratchy and her chest hurt, but her father’s arms around her made her feel a little better. She clung to his wet tunic, not quite understanding everything that had happened, but knowing she didn’t want to let go of him just yet.As the boat docked, the King stepped off first, his strides purposeful and steady despite the water streaming from his garments. His arms never faltered, holding Alysanne as though she were the most precious thing he had ever carried. The other boats docked quickly behind, knights, maids, and servants moving to assist where they could, their expressions a mixture of relief and alarm.Alysanne, her breaths still uneven but growing steadier, the ache in her chest lessening by the moment, glanced up at her father’s face. His jaw was set, his eyes hard and focused, though they flickered with an emotion she couldn’t name. She had rarely seen him this close before, his features sharper and more intense than they seemed from afar. There was something almost comforting about the way he carried her, his hold firm yet gentle.“Bring blankets and towels,” Rhaegar commanded without looking at anyone in particular. His voice, though calm, carried a weight that sent people scurrying to obey. “And see to the Princess.”One of the maids approached with a big towel, and another with a thick, dry cloak. Her father set her down carefully, taking the towel in his hands and helping her dry off, before draping the heavy fabric over her small, shivering frame. She blinked up at him, her indigo eyes wide, the weight of his stern gaze settling over her.“You must be more careful, Alysanne,” he said, his tone gentler now but no less firm. “Your life is not something to be risked so easily. Do you understand me?”She nodded quickly, her small hands clutching the edges of the cloak. “I understand,” she whispered.His expression softened slightly, and he stood, towering over her once more. “Good,” he said.Ashara appeared at the edge of sight then, her face pale and stricken. She wrung her hands anxiously, her violet gown brushing against the wet grass as she fell to her knees in front of her. “Princess,” Ashara said, her voice trembling, “Are you hurt? Does anything feel strange? Your Grace, she could have–”“She is fine,” the King interrupted sharply, “See to it that she is kept warm.”Ashara flinched slightly but nodded. She wrapped her arms around Alysanne, pulling her close. She nestled into her embrace, Ashara’s warmth always soothing. “Oh, my little dragon,” Ashara murmured, smoothing Alysanne’s damp hair. “Perhaps we should return to the Keep and have the Maester look at her, just to be safe.”Alysanne shook her head quickly. “No!” she said, her voice cracking. She did not want to go back, not yet. Her throat felt tight, and her chest still hurt a little. Tears filled her eyes, and before she could stop them, they spilled over her cheeks. She started crying, and once she started, she couldn’t stop.She didn’t understand why she was crying so much, but it felt like everything – falling in the water, not being able to breathe, her father looking so stern – was all too much all at once.Ashara pulled her into her lap. “Shh, my sweet girl,” she whispered, stroking her wet hair. “It is all right now. You are safe now. I’ve got you. Everything is going to be all right.”Her father stood tall, watching her with an expression she couldn’t figure out. She could never figure him out or understand him, and that made her cry even more. She hiccupped and peeked at him through her tears, hoping he was not mad at her. That she had not ruined his day.Then Ser Jaime crouched down next to her, his shiny golden hair catching the sunlight. “Princess,” he said, his voice soft and kind. “Do you want to stay here for a little while? We can sit in the sun, have some food, and rest. Would that make you happy?”Alysanne sniffled, wiping at her cheeks with her hands. She nodded slowly. “I want to stay,” she said in a small voice.“Then that is what we will do,” Jaime said, smiling at her, before looking to her father for permission. The King nodded.He motioned for them to sit down in the space the maids and servants had readied for them. The King sat down first, and Ashara and her followed, though she did not let go of her, keeping Alysanne wrapped up in her warm cloak. Alysanne leaned into her, feeling safe in her arms.“Try this,” Ser Jaime said, pointing to a little plate with sticky golden pastries. “These are the best treats you will ever eat. My younger brother adores them.”Alysanne hesitated but took one, nibbling at the edge. The sweetness made her smile, and for a moment, the tight feeling in her chest went away.“There it is,” Ser Myles said, his voice cheerful. “A smile! Now that is what I wanted to see. What is an adventure without a snack afterward?”Alysanne giggled softly, her sniffles fading bit by bit. Everyone was watching her, even her father, though he didn’t say anything. He sat there quietly, while Ashara kept fussing over her, brushing her hair back and checking to make sure she was warm enough.The sun felt warm on her skin, and her eyes grew heavier as the time passed. Ashara fed her some sandwiches with meat in them, which she ate happily. She yawned, curling closer to Ashara, her little body finally relaxing after all the day’s events. The voices around her blurred together, soft and soothing, until she couldn’t keep her eyes open anymore. The second Ashara confirmed that her precious little girl was truly and deeply in sleep, she got up, laying Alysanne up on the little futon the maids had set up under the shade of the trees. The girl’s small chest rose and fell evenly, her tiny fingers clutching the edge of the soft blanket that the maids had laid on her. It soothed her, seeing Alys’ chest rising and falling.
She is alive. She is safe. She did not die.
Ashara brushed a stray strand of dark hair from the child’s face, her violet eyes brimming with a rage she had been holding back from the moment she had seen her precious girl struggling in the river, her uncaring father not even noticing.She straightened, her gaze shifting to Ser Barristan Selmy, who stood nearby, ever watchful. “Please keep an eye on her for me, Ser.” she murmured, her voice low but firm.Ser Barristan nodded immediately, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword as he moved a few paces closer to where Alysanne laid, giving Ashara a gentle smile, one she unfortunately could not return. She turned her attention to the man seated under the shade of another tree, surrounded by the rest of his Kingsguard.Rhaegar Targaryen sat silently, his dark indigo eyes looking somewhere far in the distance. He was calm, detached, as if the chaos of the day had barely touched him, as if his firstborn nearly dying had not even bothered him the slightest. Ashara’s hands clenched into fists at her sides as she strode toward him, the heat of her fury building with every step.When she stopped in front of him, her voice exploded into the still air like a whip crack. “WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!”Rhaegar’s head jerked up, his gaze locking with hers, startled. Around him, Arthur, Myles and Ser Jaime tensed, but Ashara was far past caring.“I trusted you,” she spat, her voice trembling with anger and pain. “I trusted you with her! Even when others did not, even when Lyanna’s northern ladies whispered that they did not trust you, I stood by you! I spoke for you! Because I was loyal – to you, to your crown, and to her.”At the mention of Lyanna, Rhaegar visibly flinched, a shadow crossing his face. It was a small reaction, but it was enough to enrage her even further.How dare he act like he cares now?!“Don’t you dare flinch,” she snapped, her voice cracking with the weight of years of pent-up emotion. “Don’t you dare! You think you are the only one who grieves? You think you’re the only one who loved her? Lyanna Stark gave her life for that little girl, for Alysanne, and you– you who should have protected her, loved her– did not even notice when she was struggling for her life today! SHE COULD HAVE DIED!”Rhaegar opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off, her voice rising. “You are her father! HER FATHER! She is not yet five name days, Rhaegar, and she was on your boat! It was your duty to keep her safe, to notice her, to take care of her! Instead, it was Ser Jaime who saw her drowning, not you. What were you doing? Dreaming? Lost in your thoughts while your firstborn was fighting for her life?”The Kingsguard exchanged uneasy glances. Ser Jaime looked elsewhere, and Myles looked incredibly uncomfortable. But as usual, her foolish brother could not keep his mouth shut. Ser Arthur Dayne stepped forward, ever loyal, ever in defence of his king, his voice low and placating. “Ashara, that’s enough. The King– ”“Enough?” she whirled around on him, her violet eyes blazing. “Do not dare tell me what is enough, brother mine! Perhaps you have forgotten Lyanna Stark and the promises you made to her, but I have not! I have kept those promises every single day for the past five years.”She stepped forward now.“Every. Single. Day. I have been her daughter’s mother and father, her shield, her everything while he– ” she jabbed a finger toward Rhaegar, “–wallows in his grief and neglects the only piece of Lyanna that remains in this world!”She did not care if they threw her in the black cells, or killed her, or proclaimed her guilty of treason. Ashara was going to say every single thing that had been running her mind these past years, and she was going to make sure Rhaegar Targaryen listened.Arthur’s mouth opened, then closed, his jaw tightening as he stepped back, chastened. Good.Ashara turned back to Rhaegar. “I believed in you, Your Grace. I believed in your reign, I believed the promises you made to us all. I believed that once the fog of your grief lifted, you would love her, cherish her, like your Lady Wife wished for you to do so. But today… today you not only proved I wrong, but the Princess Lyanna too.”Silence fell, thick and suffocating. Rhaegar’s face was pale, his expression stricken, but he said nothing. As usual. His hands rested on his knees, the long fingers trembling slightly.Ashara’s chest heaved as she tried to steady her breathing. She glanced over her shoulder at Alysanne, still sleeping peacefully under Ser Barristan’s watchful gaze. Her poor darling girl. “She is all that is left of her,” Ashara whispered, her voice breaking. “If you cannot protect her, then what was all of this for? What did Lyanna Stark die for?”“If you cannot love her like she deserves, if you are not capable of taking care of her, as you have proved today. Then send her North. Send her to the Starks. Brandon, Ned, Benjen and Lord Rickard will take care of her. They will love her. Far better than you have.”Without waiting for an answer, she turned and walked away to her charge, her back straight, though her heart ached more than it ever had before. The Maidenvault was quiet at this hour, its dimly lit halls echoing with the soft scuff of boots on stone. Jaime strode alongside Ser Myles Mooton, his white cloak flowing behind him with every confident step. Both his fellow brother of the Kingsguard and him had been given an order by His Grace. One that had flattered Jaime and filled him with pride, no doubt a reward for his actions earlier in the day.He was to be sworn into the service of the King’s heir, the Princess Alysanne Targaryen.Jaime had not informed his father and sister of the same, their machinations and ambitions were something he did not like to be involved in, and he knew the King would not inform his Master of Coin of the change in his son’s position either. Let it be this way, easier to handle. Cersei’s vehemently despised the Princess, and would no doubt use his recent change in position as a way to get him to hurt her or something, and he could not let that happen to King Rhaegar’s only child, one who despite contrary opinions others had, he was very fond of – the King that is.When they arrived, Dacey Mormont stood by the doors to Princess Alysanne’s quarters, her arms crossed, scrutinizing them as they approached, dressed in some austere Northern garb. By the Seven, would it hurt for these northerners to dress up to their status a little? It was embarrassing truly, but still, she was a formidable figure, tall for a woman, with a presence that could make lesser men falter, though he was no green faced squire either.It was hard to forget the tales of the woman who had fought by the King’s side when they overthrew the Mad King, Dacey Mormont seemed every bit the warrior her reputation suggested. There was a reason Lord Stark had sent this woman as a lady-in-waiting for his daughter when she married the then Prince.“You have come to enquire after the princess,” she said, her voice low and firm, not quite a question. All these years in King’s Landing and that thick Northern accent of hers had not disappeared. Her steely grey eyes swept over Jaime, assessing, judging. She stopped just short of outright glaring, though suspicion practically radiated from her.Jaime offered her his most disarming smile, though he doubted it would work on a woman like her. “By the King’s command. Her Highness, the Princess Alysanne’s protection is now our responsibility.” nodding at his companion.Mormont’s expression hardened, scepticism practically radiating from the northerner. “Your responsibility,” she repeated, spitting the words as if they tasted bitter. “A Lannister’s responsibility.”How original. Jaime fought back the urge to groan or roll his eyes, though a flicker of amusement tugged at the corners of his mouth. He glanced at Myles, whose calm demeanour contrasted his own faint amusement. He was letting him handle this. That made sense, no need for both of them to provoke the woman and antagonize her from the beginning. “Yes, my responsibility,” Jaime said, “My loyalty is to the King and the King alone. Surely even you can understand that, Lady Mormont.”Her glare could have melted steel. “Can I?” she shot back. “Your father’s ambitions are no secret, nor are your sister’s. They would see the King wed Cersei Lannister. And we both know what that would mean for Princess Alysanne. Why would you protect her, Ser Jaime, when doing so could jeopardize your family’s plans?”He stiffened, the faint smirk vanishing from his face. Father and Cersei. Always them. Their ambitions were a noose around his neck, one he had spent years trying to sever. But how could he explain that to someone like Dacey Mormont, a northerner true, who saw only the Lannister name? How could he explain that his family’s aspirations meant less to him than the honour of his white cloak?Not that he wanted to explain it to anyone anyway, he was a lion true, a white lion is still a lion after all. And they answered to no one. Besides, he knew just how to shut this woman up.Ser Myles move to speak in his defence, but Jaime spoke up before he could utter a word, “It is curious, that you, Lady Mormont, would doubt me. After all, your former lady, the Princess Lyanna, never did.At the mention of Lyanna Stark, he caught the way Mormont stiffened, her arms dropping slightly from their defensive fold. From the corner of his eye, he noticed Myles shift uncomfortably. Jaime resisted the urge to sigh. It had been five years since that woman’s death, and yet it seemed half the court still lived in her shadow. Even brilliant Ser Arthur Dayne, whom Jaime still admired – how could he not? – could barely speak her name without the weight of grief dragging his voice.Jaime had never understood it. Lyanna Stark had been beautiful, yes – though not in the same way as his darling sister, Cersei was. Lyanna Stark’s beauty had been wild and untamed, like a woodland nymph sprung to life from some old song. But it was obvious that it had not been her looks that inspired such devotion from the people around her; it was her character. Jaime had been fond of her, even liked her in his own way. As a Prince, His Grace had been overly protective of her, distrustful of anyone who might harm her, and so as the son of Tywin Lannister, Jaime had rarely been assigned to her protection. But he had often wondered if he’d ever have been able to get close to her true, then he would have understood everyone else’s feelings about her. A very intriguing woman, the She-Wolf was, he could never understand the fervent loyalty she seemed to inspire in those around her.Mormont’s harsh face softened, though she remained guarded. Jaime pressed on, making his voice softer now, less sharp. “The Princess Lyanna trusted me. If she could, surely you might grant me the same courtesy.”Before Dacey Mormont could respond, Myles spoke up, his tone calm and measured. “Lady Mormont, Ser Jaime has served as a knight of the Kingsguard with honour. I understand your apprehensions, but the Kingsguard forsake everything when they join His Grace’s service. Whatever his family’s ambitions may be, they do not reflect on him. His loyalty is to His Grace, as is mine.”For a long moment, Mormont said nothing, her eyes darting between Jaime and Myles. Finally, she exhaled a sharp breath. “The King’s orders are clear,” she said stiffly. “I cannot deny them, no matter my doubts. You may enter.”She stepped aside, though her gaze lingered on Jaime, as if silently warning him that any misstep would not be forgiven. Jaime inclined his head as polite as he could be and strode past her into the quarters, Myles following closely behind.“Lady Mormont,” Myles began, his voice careful, “how is the princess? Has the Grand Maester said anything about her condition?”Mormont’s gaze flicked to Myles, her face relaxing further. “The Grand Maester said she is in good health,” she said, her tone clipped but less hostile. “She is shaken from the day’s events, as any child would be. What she needs now is rest.”Jaime looked around the Princess’ receiving chambers as the two of them spoke, the Princess was fine, there is no need for him to know all the specificities of child rearing. The chamber was decorated in a manner that made it incredibly obvious that these were the quarters of a child, with warm pinks, blues and purples all around in the furnishings, and bright coloured tapestries hung up on the walls. Plush cushions were scattered across a settee, and a collection of wooden toys lay neatly arranged on a small table, their polished surfaces gleaming in the soft light of the candles. It was charming, Jaime supposed, he did not have much of an opinion on it.He turned back and followed Mormont and Ser Myles as she guided them through to the Princess’ bed chambers.The air inside her chambers was cooler, scented faintly with some strange floral scent that Jaime could care less to put a name to. The only sound was the soft rustle of fabric as the Princess shifted slightly in her sleep. Her tiny form was bundled beneath layers of quilts, her dark curls splayed across the pillow.For a moment, he simply watched her, the rise and fall of her chest steady. She looked so small, so vulnerable, much like how she had looked earlier in the day after he had pulled her out of the river. It made him feel all the very strange. He had not been thinking when he had jumped into the Rush to save her.Some servants had arrived at the open door of the Princess’ chambers then, asking for Mormont’s presence for something or the other. He remembered Barbrey Ryswell and Lady Ashara both served here as well. Just where were those two.Mormont turned back to them, “I will return shortly. Do not leave her unattended Sers.”Jaime inclined his head, “We’ll guard her as if she were the King himself seated on the Iron Throne, Lady Mormont.”She shot him a glare at his poor attempt at a jest but said nothing more – stiff northerners – sweeping past them and going along with the servants to complete whatever she needed to do. The room fell quiet once the sound of her footsteps faded down the hall, leaving Jaime and Myles standing by the Princess’s bedside.Ser Myles was the first to break the silence, his voice low to avoid disturbing the child. “You have a way of irritating people without even trying, do you know that?” There was a trace of amusement in his tone as he glanced at Jaime.“It’s a gift.”Turning his attention back to the sleeping Princess, Jaime allowed himself a rare moment of stillness. Whatever doubts or suspicions Dacey Mormont or the others may have, he knew where his loyalty lay, and so did the King and his brothers, that’s all that mattered to him. The white cloak on his shoulders was a constant reminder of that – the greatest honour bestowed to him, though he had always wished it had been King Rhaegar who had cloaked him and welcomed into the Kingsguard and not his father.“Are you disappointed?”Jaime looked at Ser Myles, surprised at the question.“Disappointed? Why ever would I be disappointed?” he asked, confused.The older man leaned slightly against the post of the bed, careful not to disturb the sleeping child. His expression was thoughtful, perhaps even a little hesitant, an unusual thing for the usually composed and friendly knight.“Some might think this as beneath them. Guarding a child – important as she may be – might not exactly be what you’d imagined when you donned the white cloak.”“She is the King’s daughter. His only child. What greater responsibility could there be than ensuring the safety of the Heir to the Iron Throne? My duty is clear.”“Your duty then,” Myles repeated, his gaze settling on Jaime with a knowing look. “You say this – and I do not deny it – but this isn’t just duty, is it? You jumped into that river today without hesitation. Not everyone would have done that.”“Not everyone are knights of the Kingsguard.”Ser Myles slowly nodded, “You speak true.”Jaime finally looked at him, his expression unreadable. “She was drowning,” he said simply, as though it explained everything. And to him, it did. There had been no calculation, no thought of politics or anything his father would want him to keep in mind with his every action. In that moment, she had needed saving, and he had acted.Myles studied him for a moment longer, then nodded. “The King chose well,” he said. “Let us hope Lady Mormont sees that in time.”He tried not to preen at the approval he received from the King’s former squire, “I would not hold my breath.”Besides, what care would he have about what anyone else thinks. He knew his duty to his King well, and he knew the man trusted him, why else would he assign him to guard his only daughter. He would not fail the King, he would protect the Princess with his life. He was a knight of the Kingsguard.“She will be safe,” Jaime murmured, the words more a vow than a reassurance. The first thing Princess Alysanne Targaryen noticed when she woke was the soft light streaming through the high windows of her chambers, painting the room in a gentle glow, as always. She blinked sleepily, her small hands rubbing at her eyes, and for a moment, she simply laid still in her pink bed, the warmth of her quilts wrapped snugly around her.It was quiet, as her mornings usually tended to be, but something smelt different. There was a faint, sweet scent in the air, something she couldn’t quite place, and her curiosity stirred. Slowly, she sat up, sniffing the air, trying to figure just what was this new scent. The blankets slipped off her shoulders and her dark curls tumbled messily around her face as she got on her knees. She glanced around her room, her gaze sweeping over the familiar sights: her cushions, her toys, the bright tapestries on the walls. But then her eyes landed on something new.Near the window – her favourite place to sit in her chambers – a golden bowl stood on a pillar. It shimmered in the soft morning light, catching her attention. Alysanne’s tilted her head in confusion, trying to understand just what it was.She slipped out of bed, her small bare feet padding across the cool stone floor. Her nightgown swished softly as she moved, her steps hesitant. But still, she was curious. Just what was this new thing in her chambers.As she drew closer to the bowl, she noticed how the sunlight seemed to make the water inside it sparkle. Water? Why was there a bowl filled with water placed in her chambers like that? And what was that floating on the surface?When she finally reached the golden bowl, Alysanne gasped, her eyes widening in delight. Floating atop the water were the most beautiful flowers she had ever seen – the blue lotuses! Their delicate petals spread out, their pretty colour standing out against the clear water.“The lotuses!” she whispered to herself, her small fingers brushing against the edge of the bowl. It was kept in a way that she wouldn’t have to tiptoe to see the flowers. These were the same flowers she had seen on the river yesterday, the ones she had wanted so badly to pluck before...before everything had gone so wrong.Her face lit up, the memory of the awful incident of her falling into the river fading away as she focused on the blossoms in front of her. The sweet scent that had filled the air was stronger now, and she realized it was coming from these lotuses. She reached out a cautious hand, her fingers grazing the cool water and the soft petals. Alysanne giggled, her earlier sleepiness completely forgotten.“They’re here,” she murmured excitedly. “The blue lotuses are here.”She heard the faint sound of the door opening behind her, but she did not turn, too entranced by the flowers. The presence of her guards or maids didn’t matter at this moment. All that mattered was the golden bowl and the blue lotuses, it was like a gift from the river itself, placed right where she could enjoy them.“They’re so pretty,” The Princess’ small face and voice was filled with happiness as she gently stroked the petals.