salt and sea and sweat and tears
Aegon tucks her hair behind her ear. He does this each night and each time they move closer, magnetic, like a forcefield of emotion.
Alysanne is a maiden of sixteen years old who has never known what is like to belong. Before she was here, before the Shy Maidenand Aegon, Alysanne was the Bastard of Winterfell. And then she bled for the first time and the Quiet Wolf placed her on a boat across the Narrow Sea. Overnight it seemed like everything had changed. No one called her bastard. Catelyn praised her sewing, and suddenly, Theon no longer looked her in the eye.
Alysanne had been just shy of three and ten when she learned her father was her uncle and she did not understand. “Father, I mean uncle, please do not send me away. I swear that I will behave. I-”
“I do not send you away to punish you, Alysanne,” the stoney faced man replied, “I am only doing what is best for you, and what your mother bade. It is too dangerous for you here.”
As the boat rocks across the Narrow Sea, Alysanne weeps. She weeps into Lord Howland Reed’s vest and barely speaks to the young women chosen to be her ladies in Essos.
Wynafryd Manderly of White Harbour, Alys Karstark of Karhold, Lyra Mormont of Bear Island, and Myha Magnar of Kingshouse all make the journey from White Harbor to Volantis with the lady they serve. “The North must be united,” her uncle says as the green and white colors of house Magnar fly from the horses arriving at Winterfell.
“Dirty Skaggs,” mutters Theon from nearby, and that is when Alysanne’s last lady in waiting arrives.
“She will teach you the Old Tongue,” Uncle Ned says, “If we are to prevail, we must return to the Old Ways. The north must be united.”
Only a moon later all five girls pile into a warm wheelhouse for the long ride to White Harbour. Alys and Wynafryd are the best with a needle, and so they busy themselves by making lighter dresses for the hot Essosi weather. By the end of the journey to White Harbour, Alys alone has made Alysanne three beautiful linen gowns.
After a week in White Harbour, Wyman Manderly sends them across the Narrow Sea with a contingent of Stark men and their bannerman on six ships. Under Alysanne’s mattress lies a black padded box with red satin lining. Inside are the most precious cargo, two dragon eggs, warm and whispy.
The sea is tumultuous, but Alysanne, her ladies, and Howland Reed arrive at Pentos and Alysanne is amazed by how different the world outside of the North is. The fruit is succulent, the air fragrant, and the people kind. It is in Pentos that Howland Reed hires a governess to attend to the girls’ education and teach them High Valyrian. Wyla, Alysanne’s nurse from childhood watches them all carefully, but cannot attend five adventurous girls as the leave for Tyrosh, Howland Reed ready to return to the north.
Princess Alysanne of Houses Targaryen and Stark, a dragon in wolf’s clothing lives in Tyrosh for near on a year. She is about to turn fifteen when everything changes. Alys is buying light linens for small things, a Stark guard watching her closely.
She does not come alone. At the door of the manse is a dark-haired man, violet eyes and a bone white sword.
“Your Grace,” he says and Wyla gasps.
“Ser Arthur?”
Alysanne turns in horrified amazement at the man her nurse is now ushering in.
“I am Ser Arthur Dayne,” the man says, coming to a knee, “Sword of Morning. I am kingsguard to His Grace.”
Myha looks unimpressed and shoots a suspicious glance at him before speaking in broken Common Tongue, “Why, you – here? Stag on throne.”
Ser Arthur scoffs angrily, “He is no King. No, Your Grace, My ladies. I am Kingsguard to King Aegon, Sixth of his name….”
_
Ser Arthur leads Alysanne and her household to a ship docked in Tyrosh called the Shy Maiden. It’s non-descript, with men hanging lazily on the sides as women seduce them.
Ser Arthur leads their party onto the ship and down a series of pathways until they're outside a door that looks exactly like any other.
A knock, “Her Grace, the Princess Alysanne.”
Unused to the title Alysanne looks around but there is no one but them in the hallway.
The door swings open and Alysanne thinks she might be looking at a man who could be a spitting image of what she imagines her father looks like.
“Alysanne?” he asks, and then pulls her in, and hugs her tighter than Robb ever hugged her.
“Your Grace,” she replies, throat scratchy from nerves.
“Your Grace,” her ladies all echo and curtsey.
“None of that,” he says as he leads her in, leaving her ladies outside, “I can’t believe you’re here. I’ve been waiting for you.”
Alysanne blinks owlishly. “Waiting-”
“Of course,” Aegon says, “I was told you would be coming.”