The Dragon and the Rose | Aemond Targaryen

Chapter 17: Stargazing

Ten Months Later

Womanhood was terrifying.

Alysanne had garnered very little information on the subject, being only four and ten, but the tidbits that she had heard and witnessed were enough to petrify her with fear.

There was childbirth, a dangerous and painful endeavor.

There was being at the mercy of a male figure, whether it be a father or a husband, who could for the most part dictate everything about you.

There was the near-constant threat pain, danger, and even death.

Her wakeup call came that morning.

She'd been having a dream, she was braiding someone's hair, but their back was to her, unable to see their face, even when she tried to crane her head to take a peek.

It was long silver hair, though, meaning the only viable options were her aunt Nyra, Helaena, or Aemond.

But the person wasn't an adult, that much she could tell, so it wasn't her aunt.

And the hair was too straight to be Helaena's.

She awoke just as the dream version of her began to figure it out.

In a pool of blood.

She screamed like she never had before, prompting Lydia and a guard to rush in, sure that she was being harmed by someone, only to find her in tears, standing beside her bed, clawing at her thighs through her nightgown, where blood was still trickling down.

"Lydia, I'm dying! Get the maesters!"

Lydia looked from the blood soaked sheets to the Princess, her mouth agape for a second.

"Oh dear," she murmured, unsure how exactly to proceed with the situation.

Then she turned towards the guard.

"The Queen will want to know about this, alert her at once. Tell no one else."

The guard nodded, averting his gaze from the Princess and making his way out the door with haste.

Alysanne was still in hysterics, her fingers reaching under her nightgown, touching the blood coating her thighs.

It was thick in consistency and rich in color.

"Why are you fetching Alicent?! I need a maester, Lydia!"

Lydia looked toward the doorway for a moment, debating whether to wait for the Queen or just proceed with the subject herself.

The whimper that Alysanne let out pushed her into action, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around the girl she'd looked after for most of her life.

"You're not dying, Princess," she reassured, stroking her silver locks soothingly.

"I-I'm not?"

"No, it's not a wound, or an illness. It is your blood."

Alysanne stilled at her words, slowly detaching herself from the embrace, looking up at her in utter confusion.

"My... blood? Of course it's my blood, it came out of my body."

Lydia sighed, knowing she was doing a poor job at explaining such a delicate matter.

Thankfully, she was spared another attempt at poor explanation when the Queen rushed in, looking first at the Princess' bloody nightgown, and then towards the blood-stained sheets on her bed.

"Oh, my sweetling," she cooed, stepping around the bed, enveloping Alysanne into her arms, who began openly weeping, still fearful and in the dark about what was happening.