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

Chapter Twenty-Five

With the first light of dawn, Lady Cassandra appeared at Alysanne’s door, a quiet urgency in her step. She was pale, the faint shadow of worry in her eyes, and she asked for leave to attend to her younger sister, who had caught a fever that, to the alarm of their household, bore symptoms reminiscent of the dreaded Winter Fever. Alysanne, though reluctant to lose another companion so soon, granted the leave, offering her sympathies for the ailing girl and apologizing for her failure to find Cassandra a suitable match during their brief time together in the capital. She sent her regards, though her thoughts lingered on the fact that there had been no shortage of noble suitors in the city. In time, Cassandra would likely find her place—perhaps even in the arms of one of the more eligible men now vying for her attention.

That very day, Lady Cassandra departed for Storm's End, riding alongside her father's men-at-arms, steadfast in their mission to protect her during her time in King's Landing. Alysanne watched her leave with a mixture of relief and melancholy, wondering if her lady-in-waiting would ever truly be free from the pull of family duty.

Later, through her little servant boy, Brod, Alysanne sent for Lady Ellyn, hoping to find her solace in a familiar face, but the boy returned only with an excuse. Ellyn had made plans to attend the far-side flower festival with Allan Beesbury, a young lord who, much to Alysanne's amusement, seemed to find the Reyne girl as captivating as the blossoms in bloom. And though Ser Tyland was also a suitor for Ellyn’s affections, Alysanne knew that the odds were slim. The man was more adept at winning favor with the court than with a woman of substance like Lady Ellyn.

With both of her companions gone, Alysanne decided to wander alone in the gardens. She welcomed the solitude. The morning air was cool, tinged with the scent of flowers still damp with dew. She found a quiet nook near a rose trellis and began to sing softly to herself in High Valyrian, the words of a song she had composed long ago. It was a song of freedom, of escape from the chains of duty and expectation that bound her, a melody woven with longing and a kind of wistful defiance.

"Se jelmio mazverdagon se lentor hen guēse ȳdragon gō pōja jelevre," she murmured to the wind, her voice rising with the soft sway of the trees. "Mazverdagon se tēmbi sōvegon qrīdrughagon rȳ se dōron..."

The wind makes trees whisper, 
Makes the leaves flee across the 
Pavement, 
Makes me feel alive. 
I want to flee, 
Be free like—

"Princess Alysanne!" Lord Allan's voice cut through the stillness, and Alysanne felt a flash of irritation, followed by a reluctant curiosity as she turned to face him. The young lord was standing there with a wreath of flowers in his hand, his honey-coated smile as charming as ever.

"I'm sorry if I have disturbed your peace," he said with a laugh that was too easy, "but have you seen Lady Ellyn? We are to attend the flower festival together."

"I thought she had already gone with..." Alysanne paused, the realization dawning too late. She finished softly, "...with Allan Beesbury." She cleared her throat and smiled, a smile that was less than genuine. "I'm sure she'll come around, my Lord."

Alysanne could not help but think that if Lady Ellyn became Ser Tyland's wife, then perhaps she could claim the handsome Lord of Honeyholt for herself—though, in truth, she would see him more happily in the arms of Lady Cassandra.

Lord Allan, despite his outward confidence, was clearly uneasy. He shifted on his feet and laughed awkwardly. "Ah, yes, well, I hope you are right. But tell me, Princess," he continued, his voice growing slightly more serious, "what is it you find interesting in my lady-in-waiting?"

Alysanne arched an eyebrow, her lips curling into a teasing smile as she regarded him. "You should not waste time worrying about that, my Lord. She will come around. I've seen the way you look at each other. And, gods, I can only hope that my own husband will look at me as such." The words slipped from her mouth before she could stop them, and a flush of embarrassment rose on her cheeks. She quickly masked it with a smile. What did it matter anyway?