A Dance Of Blood And Water

TWO

Alys had slept soundly ever since her father made his departure for Harrenhal, although she had felt anxious, the weather had begun to pick up and even Aemond seemed cheerful. Around the time the sun had filled the morning sky, it shone brightly and with revelation. Alys had spent upwards of an hour staring at it from her chambers. Enticed by the light, enticed by the warmth. It was almost as if Princess rhaenyras baby had welcomed a new era, or season. One filled with prosper an elegance. Alys glanced upon the sun until she began to lose the sight in her eyes, yet she could not peel herself away from the stone windowsill, despite the pain brewing within her.

Ser Harwin had made his departure the previous day, with little warning and with little goodbyes. Alys had waved him off on horseback accompanied by her grandfather, with instructions to wait for a raven that would come personally for her in the coming days. Upon revisiting the distance she had always felt between her and father, alys had realised it had never been physical. For her entire life wherever he had ventured, so had she. Now she was left alone in a vast castle, full with joy and closeness, yet she was not apart of either. The grounds had almost swallowed her as she made her first venture out, ignoring the wails from the new prince Joffrey, and running towards the training grounds. Making as much haste as she could to arrive there just before jace and Luke.

The lack of presence of Ser harwin had affected them as much as alys, she scorned them for it. He was her father, their father the heir to the Valayrion throne. They had little to complain about. Yet she watched as they stood with aegon and Aemond, drowsily raising their swords with little energy as the sun rose above them. Alys felt power from the brightness, she could even force a smile, something she had not done for years. Watching with eyes that wished to be in the positions of her peers, in danger, in charge.

She stood slowly, as her dress grazed the mud underneath her and she knew when the queen saw her she would receive many a harsh remark, but she could not care. Her father was no longer here to tell her what she was; a woman. To remind her of her ladyness, to remind her of her sewing, and her duties. Now she was  free under the blistering sun.

Jace had fell to the floor with a dark thud. Prince aegons flowing blonde hair only lit up in the sunlight as he stood proudly over the boy, overlooking his accomplishment. Jaces brown counterparts looking dull in comparison. Alys had wanted to cheer for her supposed brother, but there was no denying, The Targaryen brothers were much more aptly skilled with their wooden swords. Now jace and Luke had lost the mentorship of harwin, they appeared in the training grounds for what they were; no more than children, boys who would never know any real fighting.

Jace had shown wisdom and intelligence, a scholar at even a young age, learning high velayrion with his mother and putting his focus on either his dragon or his studies. Luke on the other hand was a lazy child, always laughing and making jest at those around him. Usually the prince Aemond.

Aemond today had not captured alys' eye for any particular reason, but instead he stared upon his elder brother and his talents in the ways of the sword. Alys felt she could feel his emotion, as the boy stood with no more than a frown on his face, his purple eyes reflecting the sun in such a manner alys thought maybe aemond was the bringer of light himself. However the boy did not move, almost in a reprimanded manner, only onlooking, not in recipient of an invitation to join his brothers fight as he was disregarded as an unequal.

As the training drew to an end, with the boys bickering and fooling around with their swords, Ser criston cole tended to aemond. Alys noting that he smiled broadly at the boy who had seemingly reflected the sun, and took all shine away from the boys eyes. Ser criston was a man her father had warned her to stay from, although evidently alys was not a keen listener. Sat, perched on the wooden banners almost threatening to expel her weight as she depended on them, alys saw what no other could see in the younger blonde prince. A striking personality, deafened by those around him, and a yearning for power that rivalled her own. If only she was born a boy she thought. If only it was righteous for her to train with a sword, she bet she could beat aemond with one move.