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

Chapter Seven

The wind carried the scent of salt and the faint tang of dragonfire as Willa's voice broke the heavy silence. "Are you ready to leave now, Princess?" she asked softly, her hands folded neatly before her. "Your family has gone ahead by ship. They've disappeared beyond the horizon."

Alysanne Velaryon did not look up immediately. She sat rigid in her chair, her hands clenched tightly in her lap, as though the simple act of standing would sever something irrevocable. She could feel Willa's gaze on her, kind and patient as always, but it did little to calm the storm within her.

At last, Alysanne rose, shaking her head slightly. She was clad in her riding attire, a leather coat adorned with silver latches, designed to withstand the wind and rain. If the gods were unkind—and they often were—it would be tested today.

"A few more moments, perhaps, Willa," she murmured, her voice unsteady. Her hands trembled at her sides, and her breath came in uneven gasps.

Willa frowned, stepping closer. "Oh, my Princess," she said, her voice soft with concern. "Are you in need of an embrace?"

Alysanne didn't answer. Instead, she moved forward and practically threw herself into Willa's arms. The older woman caught her without hesitation, holding her tightly as though her embrace alone could shield the young princess from the storms ahead. Warmth spread through Alysanne's body, a fragile comfort that slowed her racing heart and brought a faint, trembling smile to her lips.

"I'll miss you, Willa," Alysanne whispered, her voice breaking. "I'll miss you and your little one, whom I'll never get to meet."

Willa stroked her hair gently, her touch motherly. "You are in our prayers, Princess," she replied.

"Thank you," Alysanne said, her voice thick with emotion. "Thank you for everything."

They embraced again, a longer, lingering farewell that neither wanted to end. But the moment passed, as all things must, and Alysanne stepped back, wiping her eyes with the edge of her sleeve. It was time. Her belongings were already stowed aboard the ship, and the chambers that had been her sanctuary were empty once more. As she walked through the keep's familiar halls, pulling on her riding gloves to steady her trembling hands, a hollow ache settled in her chest.

When she reached the courtyard, Sitharax awaited her, the green-scaled she-dragon as steady and imposing as ever. Alysanne climbed into the saddle, her movements mechanical, and urged the dragon skyward with a wordless command.

From the air, Dragonstone sprawled below her like a memory made manifest. The black stone of the castle, its towers wreathed in mist, was more than just a seat of her ancestors. It was the place where she had been happiest, where she had played as a child and dreamed as a girl. It was here that she had learned to ride Sitharax, and where she had once believed her family could withstand anything. But those days were gone, lost to time and the endless tide of treachery that plagued House Targaryen.

This will be the last time I see it, she thought, the realization hitting her like a blade. Dragonstone has been my home, but it will not welcome me again. Not with my family. Not with anyone.

The thought made her chest tighten, and as the castle grew smaller beneath her, she allowed herself a final, lingering look. The tears came unbidden, stubborn and hot against her cheeks, but she did not wipe them away. Let the wind carry them. Let the skies bear witness to her grief.

"It was fun while it lasted," she whispered to herself, her voice trembling as she turned her gaze forward, to the endless sea of clouds ahead.

Her lips parted again, this time in a desperate cry. "Sing me a song, Sitharax!"