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

Chapter Eighteen

Here’s the revised version:

Alysanne's mother’s brief return had been canceled, and a raven delivered the news with a logical explanation. The parchment stated that Princess Rhaenyra was forbidden from leaving Dragonstone due to her swollen belly. Maester Gerardys predicted that she would give birth to her seventh child within two months.

The royal court was suddenly filled with excitement, as highborn lords and ladies congratulated Alysanne on the news of another younger sibling. Yet, they were the same ones who had once questioned her legitimacy—former lickspittles of the Greens. Or were they still?

Not long after, the Queen took Alysanne and her ladies-in-waiting to the Sept to pray for a blessed birth for the Princess of Dragonstone, much to Alysanne’s hidden dismay. While the court rejoiced, she felt less excited. She was aware of her own bitterness, though she recognized how childish it was. After all, she had spent years learning elegance, and yet she was still only three and ten years old.

The silent prayer in front of the statue of the Mother felt never-ending. Alysanne, though, felt uneasy praying for the birth of her unborn sibling. After a moment, she decided to leave before the others. She insisted that her two ladies-in-waiting stay with the Queen, who was praying with fervor. Alysanne knew she was being disrespectful by leaving without Her Grace’s permission, but she went anyway, pulling the hood of her black cloak over her head and stepping out of the shadows of the Sept and into the light of the late morning sun. It was an opportunity to seize. She could go to Sitharax, rule the skies with her dragon. She could already feel the wind calling to her, the sensation surging through her veins.

*Fire and blood.*

But then, Ser Criston stepped into her path, his hand resting on the pommel of his longsword by habit. "Where are you off to, Princess?" His voice was as handsome as his appearance.

A favorite among the ladies at court, Ser Criston had been meant to train Alysanne, but he never truly did. Loyal to the Queen, he shared the same intense hatred for her mother. While Alicent may have reconciled with Princess Rhaenyra, Alysanne would argue otherwise, especially given Ser Criston’s former role as the Realm's Delight’s sworn shield.

"The Queen has not finished praying yet," Ser Criston added, his dark brown eyes narrowing. "I take it you haven't, either?"

Alysanne lifted her chin defiantly. "I can no longer stand the stench of this city. I haven’t ridden my dragon in days, and when I don’t ride her, bad things happen, Ser Criston."

He stepped forward, his voice soft but firm. "I trained you in arms when you were a child, Princess. And I see you for what you are." The soft threat in his words hung in the air. "You will leave when the Queen leaves. Now, return inside and pray beside Her Grace."

Alysanne muttered under her breath, "You barely trained me, Ser." The Kingsguard’s gaze sharpened, and she could see that he was weighing her words carefully. She smiled, enjoying his discomfort.

"And we both know why," she added, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Ser Criston remained silent, studying her with calculating eyes. Alysanne’s smile widened, hoping to irritate him further, and for a moment, one of his eyebrows quirked in reaction.

"I cannot let you leave the Sept alone," Ser Criston continued, his tone now cold. "It’s for your own safety. The city is dangerous. Bad things happen to those who ignore that fact."

Alysanne’s eyes flared with frustration. "You’re not going to let me go, are you?"

Ser Criston nodded, motioning for her to return inside. As he reached for her arm, Alysanne spun away in a flash, breaking into a sprint. She ran down the steep steps of the Sept, her heart racing.