The Realm's Fright | HOTD S1 | Fem!OC x Aemond Targaryen Fanfiction

Chapter Four

The night had deepened into an inky sea of velvet, and the sky, vast and endless, was studded with a thousand glittering stars, each one a distant promise of something unreachable, something untouchable. The moon hung low, its pale glow casting long shadows across the land, and in its silent dominion, the world below seemed as small as a grain of sand. Inside the keep, the calls of the night creatures were muffled by the thick stone walls, but their presence was felt all the same, a reminder of the wild world beyond the castle's reach.

Alysanne and Jacaerys had been summoned to bed, their mother's voice soft but firm, contrasting starkly to the reckless energy that still swirled in the air. Supper had been served in their chambers. An intimate meal, as usual, for children too young to dine among their betters. As siblings, they shared a bed, their bodies curled together like two warm threads in the coldness of the night. There was comfort in this, and safety. The world outside, full of dangers and whispers, seemed far away when they were together.

Willa, the ever-watchful maidservant, was the one who tucked them in that night, her presence a comforting routine. But their mother was not there. Alysanne glanced at the empty space beside her bed, feeling the absence like a weight on her chest. She asked for her father, her voice soft, a child's simple request for comfort in the face of the unknown. But Willa had no answers, only weary eyes. She didn't know where Ser Laenor was, and in truth, Alysanne did not expect her to. She also did not receive the glass of milk she longed for, for Willa claimed it was no longer wise to drink such things before sleep. And so, Alysanne lay awake, her mind restless, her body too tired to fight the heaviness that slowly took hold.

Jacaerys, ever the easy sleeper, was already lost to the world, his breath slow and even. But Alysanne could not follow him into slumber. Instead, her thoughts drifted, swirling like the night sky outside. She thought of dragons, of her lady dragon, and the fire that had coursed through her veins when she first commanded her to burn their food. It had been a simple thing, but to Alysanne, it had felt like a victory, a small triumph over the world that often seemed too large for her to understand. Her cruel uncles had been there, their eyes full of disdain, but they had been silenced in the face of her power.

"Dracarys," she whispered to herself, her lips curling into a smile as the rush of blood to her head made her knees weak. The memory was sweet, and seeing the look on her younger uncle's face as her dragon had obeyed her—oh, it had been worth more than a hundred golden dragons.

That cretin. Alysanne chuckled softly to herself, remembering how her mother had often called her father such names during their heated arguments. The word had never lost its sting, but in the dark of night, it was easier to laugh it off.

"Quiet down, Alys," Jacaerys mumbled in his sleep, his body shifting in the bed as he rolled to face the other side, his back turned to her. Alysanne did not apologize, for her mind had already drifted once more into the past. It was filled with memories. Good memories, of times when she had felt loved by both her parents, even if they had not always shown it in ways that others might have understood. She thought of Ser Harwin, of his care for her and her siblings. He had been a constant, unlike her father, who had often been absent, consumed by his own demons.

Jacaerys had been right, she supposed. They were the products of a forbidden affair. Her mother and Ser Harwin's secret bond, whispered about by courtiers and servants alike. If Alysanne had been wiser, she might have known long before the rumors reached her ears. But she had refused to believe them, for she loved Ser Laenor with a daughter's heart, no matter his flaws, no matter how often he returned home late and drunk. It did not matter to Alysanne that he was not always the father she had hoped for. What mattered was that he loved her, or at least, that was what she chose to believe.