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

Chapter Fourteen

King's Landing

A storm of voices rose from the throng outside the Dragonpit, a tide of cheering, chanting, and shouting that seemed to swell the very air. They had come to welcome their return, to see their prince and his new bride. Alysanne could feel the weight of their eyes upon her even from behind the shadowed arches of the Pit. She hated this—the press of the crowd, the suffocating crush of attention. She would have much preferred slipping out through one of the hidden passageways, but Aemond would not hear of it.

"Aemond, I really don't think this is a good idea," she murmured, her voice low but urgent, as he took her hand and began guiding her down the endless flights of stairs. Each step made the soreness between her thighs flare anew, and she bit her lip to keep from wincing.

"They will love you for it," he replied, his tone brooking no argument. He turned briefly, his free hand rising to wave toward the waiting crowd. "You are their princess now. Show them."

Reluctantly, she raised her hand, offering the faintest wave to the masses. Her heart beat faster as the cries grew louder.

"Prince Aemond!"

"Seven blessings to you!"

"Princess Alysanne!"

The shouts blended into a cacophony of names and well-wishes, but Alysanne could hardly make out individual words. Her mind was elsewhere, caught in the snare of memory. The last time she had been here, no one from the Red Keep had come to collect her. At the time, she had told herself it was no trouble, though it had felt telling. Of what, she could not say.

The Gold Cloaks arrived then, tapering the crowd into lines, creating a path for the prince and princess. A litter awaited them at the base of the steps, but Aemond barely spared it a glance before shaking his head.

"Too small," he muttered, turning toward the horses instead. "I'll ride."

Alysanne bit back a groan as he mounted his steed, leaving her to climb into the cramped confines of the litter. As the wheels jolted into motion and they began the slow crawl through the crowded streets of King's Landing, she immediately regretted her choice. The air inside was stifling, humid with the press of bodies outside. Sweat beaded on her brow, more profuse than even the passionate exertions of the night before. She adjusted her dress—a plain blue tunic she had left behind in Dragonstone, paired with a silver chain belt adorned with seahorses, the sigil of her house—but it did little to ease her discomfort.

The cheers continued, the voices of the commons rising in praise of their marriage. For a fleeting moment, the sound buoyed her, reminding her of the privileges a princess might yet enjoy. But the warmth turned cold when a cluster of ragged children, their faces smeared with dirt, sprinted after the litter. Their laughter turned cruel as one of them banged on the screen windows, his thin fists making the frame rattle.

"Bastard!" he screamed, spitting against the glass before the Gold Cloaks chased him off.

The spit clung to the window, gleaming wet in the sunlight. Alysanne leaned back in her seat, her stomach churning. The word lingered in the air, fouler than the stench of the streets. She turned her face away, staring blankly at the passing crowds. Anything, she thought, would be better than this. Anything would be better than being a princess with questionable fatherhood.

When the litter finally ground to a halt, she waited for the door to open, expecting a hand to help her down. A moment passed. Then another. Her patience wore thin, and a bitter thought rose unbidden—the last time I arrived here, no one came for me either. Cursing softly, she kicked the door open.

A startled groan met her ears, followed by the sound of someone stumbling back. Her breath caught as she saw the face of the one she had struck.

"Gods," she gasped. "I—I'm sorry..."