Looks may be deceiving as a picture of innocents and purity prowls the halls of the keep, one can never truly be safe.
In which Alicent Hightower and Visery Targaryens youngest daughter is a dreamer.
"Do you know what keeps me awake at night... it's...
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Alysanne had never shied away from violence. In fact she seemed to thrive in it.
Violence had been a large part of her childhood. Dreams of blood and gore, of blades clashing upon one another, the defeat in one's eyes when they knew they had lost the battle.
She was the blood of the dragon after all. Fire ran through her blood, but the fire seemed to grow when she watches the life leaves someones eyes.
But she however did appreciate a clean death. One where no mistakes were made, no witnesses and no mercy.
Poison was a favourite. Generally deemed a womens technique, by fools who thought the art form was easy to perfect. One did not simply just buy the poison. No, they would have to brew it.
They would have to know the right ingredients, the perfect heat to come to a boil and the right distribution to kill someone without wasting too much.
Poisons could be hard to identify or cure, especially when one does not know how to properly analyse it - or say it was specially crafted, something no one had ever seen before.
So as the young princess watched the life leave the rat in front of her, a purple glass tube lying beside it, a glint of pride flashed in her eye, as she picked up the tube examining the liquid within.
Yes, one may suspect a woman of poison, but never a delicate princess, especially one who has only experienced 12 summers.
☆ ✫ ✧ ~
Wooden swords hit straw dummies. The princess did not take her eyes off Ser Harwin as he strolled into the courtyard from her spot beside her father, her eyes occasionally following the movements of Ser Criston as he moved about instructing the boys.
Anticipation built inside of her as she leaned forward in her seat, gaining a better advantage point as she started to sketch, her father distracted talking to his king's hand.
Her hands moved rapidly as she watched Ser Harwin circle the scene of her brother and Jacaery, like a lion watching over his cubs.
Her lips quirked downwards as Ser Criston continued on with his baiting. His favouritism was obvious as he continued to shout advice to only one of the boys under his wing. While the other boy's father watched on, hand gripping his sword tighter each time Cole opened his mouth.
Alysanne did not really have any reason to dislike her mothers knight as much as she did, but perhaps it was the smug smirk that was painted across his face. A face that she may of been deemed handsome if it were not for his sour personality.
She knew his loyalties would forever lie with the greens. With his duty and sense of honour having been stripped away the moment he stripped away Rhaenyras maidenhead, a man now sat in his place that was in fact no man at all.
