INFERNO||daenerys targaryen

𝖈𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 𝖎𝖎

Of course the weight of what she had done only hit her after she had already done it.

Alysanne could do nothing but nod, feeling strangely numb, as she was shown to her new chambers - permanent chambers - in the Red Keep. They were nothing short of fit for a Queen, with a large bed in the centre of the room and a desk in the corner under the window, both made of the same delicate, dark wood. Directly opposite the bed was a fireplace with a chair in front of it, in which a small fire was burning.

She already knew she would not retain any of the information that she was currently receiving, so in the end she didn't bother even trying to listen to the handmaiden, a pretty Dothraki girl of maybe twenty years, explain. All the words she picked out were "Small Council" and "Queen", which reminded her very harshly of the situation she had found herself in.

Once the handmaiden was gone, she collapsed on the bed. She had lied before - the weeks of travel has taken as much of a toll on her as they had on the small band of guards that were travelling with her, especially since stops were infrequent, and if they did stop, good inns were hard to come by.

Her heart was still beating fast as she replayed the scene in the throne room over and over in her head, wondering what she could have done differently. Now, in the comfort of being alone with her thoughts again, refusing seemed like the only sensible option.

But she remembered the intensity of Daenerys' gaze burning into her, the hopeful tone in her voice, and the feeling, deep down, that she could under no circumstances let this woman down.

Now the choice was made, and she must needs live with it, however much as she might not want to. She could only imagine the kind of outrage it would cause to break her word now, to simply flee back to the relative safety and familiarity of Highgarden.

It was that thought that finally brought her back to the real world. Cursing under her breath, she got up and walked over to the small chest she had packed to take with her. It had nothing more than the clothes she had worn to travel, a few more elegant dresses for the duration of her stay, and a quill and several rolls of parchment, one of which she spread on the table before her now.

To Lord Jon Fossoway

I write to inform you, dear Uncle, that you cannot be expecting my return to Highgarden within the next two months - or, indeed, at all. Her Grace the Queen has done me the honour of offering me the choice to serve on her small council, a proposition I have decided to accept. From now on until she sees fit to dismiss me, I will be serving as master of coin.

As such, I will be requiring a larger number of guards than the retinue with me at present; also must I ask for my handmaidens, who are quite indispensable to me should I have to make myself presentable at court every day. I ask you to send them swiftly, but warn them to be careful.

As Highgarden's steward the task of managing and maintaining the castle falls, of course, to you. Any letters sent to Highgarden before my appointment is known to all the continent you may take care of unless it is something I am specifically needed for.

Warmest wishes to yourself and my Aunt from your loving niece,

Lady Alysanne of House Tyrell

Once the letter was sealed, she closed the small bottle of ink and put away the quill. An almost giddy feeling bloomed within her at the idea of finally seeing her handmaidens again. She had known all of them since before her tenth nameday, and counted them among her truest friends.

Now to find the rookery to dispatch a raven with the letter. Leaving the room, she saw the corridor split in three directions in front of her. After desperately searching in her memory for any idea of the way she had come, she chose to simply pick a direction. An unwise decision, most likely, but the sooner she found someone, the better.