"If the choice was mine, I would choose you a hundred times over."
Alerie Tyrell was promised to Jacaerys Velaryon the day she was born to join two of the most powerful houses in Westeros. However she does not take kindly to leaving her home for a s...
Other great houses take lions and wolves for their sigils And draw their power from the gold in their mountains or the cold of their winters
But mountains run dry and winter yields to spring
And the rose blooms once more.
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THE death of Lady Laena shuddered the seven kingdoms from Driftmark to Dragonstone, from Dorne to the wall. The warden of the South, Lord of HighGarden decided to bring his family to pay their respects.
The only daughter of Lord Lorent Tyrell was a wily thing. At the age of nine, she stood at four feet and eleven (and a quarter) inches, her knees always grass stained, her honey coloured hair always slightly tangled. She liked to spend her time chasing cats, pretending to be a knight and punching the farmer's sons that said that girls couldn't punch.
However, Lady Alys had taken extra care in cleaning her daughter up to give her the appearance of the young rose that she was expected to be. "No fighting cousin Aemond, no chasing animals, and definitely no out bursts." Her mother told her firmly as she brushed through her hair. "Poor Baela and Rhaena have lost their Lady Mother, you should try your best to comfort them."
"I will mother." Alerie responded, already growing bored of sitting still. She swung her legs in the chair she was sat in as her mother brushed through her tangled curls. "Will Jace and Luke be there?" She asked.
"One would assume so." Her mother nodded and Alerie smiled, she always had fun with Jace and Luke.
She kicked her feet for the entire journey to Driftmark until her elder brother Theo gave her a book about Visneya Targaryen to keep her occupied. Theo had five years on her and stood a lot taller than her. Their father shone with pride while looking at him, the perfect heir, while he sighed with despair with Alerie.
