period cramps gender dysphoria on the iron throne was so on the nose but it was good so i dont even care. what if your body physically recoiled at the seat you've placed it upon. what if the literal site where your body touches the throne is soaked in blood. what if you wanted to bring the symbolic phallic sword. what if you didnt because its not who you are. what if you started bleeding the moment you put it aside. how romantic it must be to be locked away in a castle and made to squeeze out heirs. how romantic it must be to be locked away in a castle and finally sit on the iron throne! what if it was uncomfortable. what if you werent made for this because no one is made for this. what if your womb was a grave. what if it was reminding you right now. what if the thing that you have resented as your defining feature your entire life decided to torture you during the moment you've waited your entire life for. your father bled on this throne too when he pricked his fingers on its sharp edges. is that blood any different? your two eldest sons are dead would you like a bodily reminder that you can have more targaryen heirs? isn't that what its all about? more targaryen heirs? more and more and more targaryen heirs? dont you want to give birth again dont you want to live in this castle and squeeze out more targaryen heirs? dont you wish you were your father your uncle your half-brother dont you wish you were literally anyone else. do you think you would have started bleeding if you just brought the sword. do you think you would have started bleeding if you were just someone else. dont forget your father bled too
Tags: slow(ish) burn, sexual and romantic tension, smut
Summary: As a boy Aemond was enamored with his sister's childhood companion, the lady Alysanne Tyrell, and was heartbroken when she left to be married. Now that she is a widow, and back in the capital, the Prince Regent will stop at nothing to have the woman he wants.
MASTERLIST
The Queen of Thorns
CHAPTER 1 — Dragons and Roses
Like every morning since Alys had been back in King’s Landing six moons ago, she got out of bed as the sun rose over the Red Keep, said a prayer, washed her face with cold water, combed her hair and dressed in a dark green dress, simple enough that she could put it on herself. She wore her long brown hair in a practical plait that hung low between her shoulder blades ; her hair was not her best feature, she had always thought, and she preferred to keep it out of the way.
Lady Alysanne Tyrell, widow of Lord Ormund Hightower, had been called back to the capital by the Dowager Queen Alicent to resume her former position as companion to the now Queen Helaena.
Helaena and Alys had grown up together, the Tyrell lady having been brought to the capital on the Princess’ fifth name day as a gift. The princess was in dire need of a trusted female companion, both her mother and the Hand had decided, and Alys had been chosen for her calm temperament and endless patience. Even as a child, she had been slow to anger and frustration, with a rigid enough character that she could not be swayed into mischief by Aegon, but a tender enough heart that she would make a loving friend.
She had been seven and ten when her father had ordered her back to the Reach to marry the recently widowered Ormund Hightower, nephew of the Lord Hand, ser Otto Hightower. She had been heartbroken at leaving her decade-long friend, and so had been Helaena. At that time she had recently been married to Prince Aegon, and often found refuge from her loveless marriage in conversation with Alys. The two young girls had learned each other’s ways, and Alys had come to enjoy Helaena’s peculiar ways and interests. They spent hours in the gardens observing the bugs and keeping a journal on the insect’s habits.
Alys had been ecstatic at the prospect of spending her days with her trusted friend, whom she had grown to love as a sister, but when she arrived she found nothing of the girl she had once known. The sweet, tender Helaena had turned cold and sad, as if she already had a foot in the grave along with her eldest son, Jaehaerys.
Despite having never known the Prince, Alys often wept for the poor boy and his terrible fate, as she saw glimpses of him every day. From the way his twin sister kept turning to her left to talk to him, only to realize he was really gone, to the way the Dowager Queen kept referring to the children as “the twins and the baby” when in fact it was only Jaehaera and Maelor now.
The only comfort Alys could find in all this misery, was that Maelor had been too young to understand what had taken place, and would likely keep no memory of the loss of his older brother. The young prince was barely a year and a half old, starting to walk and call mama, and it broke Alys’ heart each time he did so, as there was never any answer.
Helaena had not said a word since the death of Jaehaerys — she kept silent as if pronouncing even the simplest word would cause the world to collapse around her. Yet every morning, Alys tried.
After her mornings ablutions, she would make her way to Helaena’s chambers with a book in hand, an instrument, or an embroidery set. She would sit with her and talk to her as if her friend answered and hoped that perhaps, deep down, it was reaching her. Helaena had never reacted violently toward her, as she sometimes did with her mother or her servants, and so Alys took it as a sign that her company was welcomed. Just as a war was raging outside the capital, a war was raging inside the Queen.
The war for the succession had been going on for almost two years, and tension had risen even higher when King Aegon had been brought back to the Keep injured a year ago — the king was now unable to leave his chambers, and the Hand reigned in all but name. The King’s brother prince Aemond was fighting his war for him, and the forces from the Reach were still battling the ones from the North. Inside the Red Keep, they could only pray for the Gods’ mercy.
As usual, when Alys entered the Queen’s chambers that morning, the Dowager Queen Alicent was already present, desperately trying to coax a word out of her daughter. The curtains were drawn to let the sun in, and the room did not seem as gloomy as it sometimes did. Alys had a feeling that, perhaps, this day would end differently than the last ones.
“Good morrow, Queen Helaena,” Alys greeted with a low curtsy before turning to the Dowager Queen. “Queen Alicent.”
“Good morrow, Lady Alysanne,” Alicent replied with a pinched smile. She rose from where she sat at her daughter’s side on one of the sofas, smoothing the thick fabric of her moss green dress.
“I brought a book of poetry to read to the Queen this morning,” Alys enunciated. “Then I thought a visit to the Godswood this afternoon would do us some good, since the Maester predicted bright sun and a warm breeze.”
“It is a wonderful idea, Lady Alys. Thank you,” Queen Alicent said, even though her tone was anything but enchanted. Alys bowed her head as she walked past her on her way out, and as soon as she had exited the room, the door closing behind her, Alys put the book away on a low table and approached Helaena.
“Dear Helaena, did you sleep at all?” she asked, already knowing the answer. She kneeled in front of her friend, grabbing one of her hands between her palms, a pleading gesture that brought comfort to neither of them. It was heartbreaking to see her in such a state. Her lilac eyes were dull, her once flamboyant hair had turned dry and brittle, and she looked a decade older than she really was.
“I will take Jaehaera and Maelor to the gardens in the afternoon,” she said. “You should really join us.”
Releasing Helaena’s hand, Alys pushed herself up from her crouching position and took her usual seat on the other side of the table. Opening the book on her lap, she ran a hand across the smooth paper, not in the mood for neither reading nor poetry.
“It pains me immensely to see you like this, dear Helaena,” she lamented. “I wish I could take some of your pain.”
—
The day progressed in the same fashion the morning had started, sad despite the bright sun. Alys took the children to the gardens, read them stories and played a few songs on the lute for them. Helaena did not leave her rooms and Alys regularly looked up to the castle where her bedroom window was. Her heart clenched every time she did so, and she wondered how long her friend’s silence would last.
She supposed her overwhelming grief would never ease, but she hoped her silence would end some day, and her children would hear their mother’s voice again. It had been six moons already and she wondered how long she herself could persist until she got tired ; she admitted, the silence and sadness were starting to dig a hole in her heart, and only the children were keeping her from collapsing into sorrow.
Only when the evening came and the nurse that was still nursing Maelor took over watching the children, did the usual course of the day change.
The Keep suddenly burst into fervor and excitement, people running left and right in a frenzy, lords gathering in the main courtyard. The ladies gathered inside as well, trying to find someone who knew what was happening. Dread grew in Alys’ heart, as they were still at war, and she suddenly feared the battle was upon them. She waited in one of the hallways with the other ladies in what seemed to her for more than an hour until the announcement finally came ; the entire court was to gather in the Throne Room.
They gathered in two rows on each side of the Iron Throne, taking their usual places according to their station. Alys stood a few steps behind where the Dowager Queen was supposed to be standing, but her place was empty. Her heart sank at that, and she wondered whether they were about to receive the worst of news where the King or Queen were concerned. Alys startled as the great doors were pulled open, and waited, heart in her throat. The heavy silence in the hall was cut by Criston Cole’s booming voice.
“All Hail to the Prince Aemond Targaryen. The usurper Princess Rhaenyra is dead and her forces have been defeated.”
A great wave of relief and excitement washed over Alys, and the crowd breathed a collective breath of relief before erupting into cheers. Taking a step forward and peeking over the shoulder of Lady Redwyne, Alys was able to catch a glimpse of the prince making his way to the Iron Throne.
Prince Aemond was walking with confidence and pride, his long hair falling over his shoulders as the Conqueror’s Crown stood proudly on his head. He was dressed in a leather outfit, a black and dark green cloak draped over his shoulders with steel clasps that Alys suspected were dragons. When he walked past where Alys was standing, she was able to get a glimpse of his weariness; his face looked severe and tired, that of a man who had been to war. At his side, she recognized the shape and aura of Dark Sister, and the sight of that mighty sword could only mean one, terrible thing.
A few steps behind him, the Dowager Queen was walking in measured steps, both pride and worry visible on her frame. She stood at the foot of the Iron Throne and watched as her son climbed the steps, curtsying as he turned around to face the assembly again, before standing to the side.
On the other side of the steps, the Hand, Lord Otto Hightower, was standing proud and victorious as if he had been the one to win the war. He raised his hands and the crowd suddenly quieted, the cheers and clapping coming to an abrupt end.
At the top of the stairs, standing in front of the Iron Throne, the Prince Aemond looked regal, more magnificent than any royal Alys had ever seen, and her breath was taken away.
“The usurper Princess Rhaenyra has been defeated and brought to justice,” the Hand announced. “She has been executed along with her husband the Prince Daemon and their children. The princes Jacaerys, Joffrey, Aegon and Viserys, along with the ladies Baela and Rhaena are now with the Gods. All lords that conspired against King Aegon have been offered to bend the knee once again.”
The Hand marked a pause as the crowd took in the horror of the announcement, and even though Alys was relieved that the war had come to an end, the statement that the children had been executed along with their parents shattered her heart.
“It is with great pride that we announce that the North and the Vale have bent the knee to King Aegon, and the realm is once again united,” Lord Otto continued.
The following pause was heavier, with an air of sorrow coming over both the Hand and the Dowager Queen. “By the Gods’ mercy, King Aegon is still among us, but while we pray for the restoration of his health, we need someone to lead us.”
The crowd erupted into cheers again and many were chanting the Prince’s name. Otto watched with a satisfied smile on his face while Prince Aemond’s expression remained severe. The sorrowful atmosphere had only lasted one minute, but it did not surprise Alys that the court was so eager to welcome a new leader, even as their king was fighting for his health.
“I hereby declare that Prince Aemond be made Prince Regent of the Seven Kingdom until King Aegon’s health is restored,” Otto Hightower announced proudly. At this the Prince did smile slightly, a satisfied air coming over his face as the crowd roared in celebration, the ladies clutching their chest in admiration and the lords exclaiming their support.
Alys looked up at the Regent and the conquering sight he made, struggling to associate it to the image of the boy she had known so many years ago. He was not a boy anymore but a man, a victorious warrior and now a ruler.
—
Prince Aemond had been back in King’s Landing for nearly a fortnight before Alys was able to set eyes on him again. Following the announcement in the Throne Room, he had locked himself in the Council Room for days on end, with the Hand, the Baratheons and the Lannisters.
Alys knew little of what was taking place and of the intricate politics that were governing the realm. When she had been sent to Oldtown to marry Lord Ormund, she had obeyed without asking questions, as she knew her father would not indulge her. She knew alliances between Houses were important, and that the Hightowers were building a network of connections that would become invaluable to all those involved.
Lord Ormund had been old already, almost as old as her own father, but she had bowed her head and pretended that she was honored by the match. She had prayed for guidance and harmony in her union all the days of her betrothal, and when the day of the ceremony had come, she had already resigned herself to suffer the indignity she had to, only if it meant she would become a mother.
Yet none of it had happened. Her marriage to Lord Ormund had remained cold and infertile, and when war was declared three years later, her husband left to lead his bannermen, never to return.
Alys had been left beneath the glowing beacon, both a widow and a maid, with nothing to bring her comfort but her but her faith and instruments. The happiest moment of her life since she had left King’s Landing had been receiving a formal letter from the Dowager Queen Alicent, a request that she come back to the capital to serve as a lady-in-waiting to Queen Helaena. Only that happiness had soured as she had arrived and had been told of her real purpose ; to be a comfort to her old friend as she mourned the death of her eldest child, the Prince Jaehaerys.
Now she did not pray for herself anymore, only for Helaena’s pain to be eased, any way the Gods could make it. She had hoped that Prince Aemond’s return and the end of the war would bring some relief to her friend, but after a fortnight she could only admit to herself that it had not made a difference.
Alys’ thoughts were interrupted by the door to Helaena’s chambers opening, and she startled slightly, realizing she had stopped reading and had lost herself in her sorrow. She turned to see who had come in, expecting a serving girl or the Dowager Queen, but her heart started racing when she saw it was the Prince Aemond. She rose from her seat, putting the book aside as he walked in, tilting his head slightly when he noticed her at his sister’s side.
“Lady Alysanne,” he greeted, his deep and melodic voice making her shiver. He was dressed in a more relaxed outfit than the one he had been wearing on the day of his return to the Red Keep — a leather doublet with simpler buckles, and there was no sword at his waist.
“Prince Aemond,” Alys said as she curtsied, lowering her eyes in respect. With a last glance toward Helaena, she left the two siblings alone, keeping her eyes low as she walked past the prince.
She lingered in the hallway and the adjacent balcony, waiting to see if she was called back inside once the prince’s visit was over. She enjoyed the light evening breeze, the warm hair dancing in her hair and caressing her face. For a minute she forgot why she was here, and the sorrow that hung around her.
“Lady Alysanne,” a deep voice called behind her after a while, and she turned around to see the prince standing a few steps behind her. She had not heard him coming, and as he stepped closer, she noticed he was eerily quiet. Only the subtle creaking of the leather indicated that he had moved at all.
“It is my understanding you have been spending time with my sister,” he said, and she had to look up and search his face to reconcile his voice with the face of the boy she had known. His purple eye was still the same, as was the curve of his nose and the light freckles across his cheeks. His jawline had sharpened and he had grown to an impressive height — he had barely been taller than her when she had left.
His presence was intense and she felt a bit dizzy as he looked at her from head to toe, likely reminiscing about the last time they had seen each other, much as she was. She knew she had not changed much, only that she was now a young woman rather than a girl.
Alys tried not to let her anguish for Helaena and her admiration of him show on her face as she replied. “I read to her morning and night. She has not said a word to me in the six months I have been here.”
The prince hummed, a contemplative sound that made a smile tug at the corner of Alys’ mouth. She remembered his habit of humming whenever he received information or was being petty, and she had often teased him for it.
“I had not expected to see you in the Red Keep again, my Lady,” he said, and she thought she could hear some warmth coloring his tone. She smiled, tenderness in her heart as she remembered their young years spent together.
“As you are probably aware, my husband Lord Ormund died at Tumbleton,” she briefly explained.
“My condolences, my Lady,” he replied, but there was no sincerity in his tone. She smiled at that, recalling his initial appalled reaction when he had learned she was to be sent away to marry a man old enough to be her father and that the match did not enchant her. He had been young, a boy on his way to be a man, but still a romantic at heart.
“Thank you, my Prince,” she said quietly. “It is my understanding that your wife, Lady Maris Baratheon, was taken by a fever last year.”
“Yes she was,” he said with the same hollow tone. “May I accompany you to your chambers?”
Alys nodded silently and he gestured for her to lead the way. He crossed his wrists behind his back as they walked, and she was not surprised that he had not offered his arm for her to hold. However she was unsettled at his aura ; he had always been an intense child, with thundering emotions hiding behind a stoic exterior, and she could still feel the storm raging inside him. He looked tired and worried, but he held himself with pride, and he could almost pass as emotionless to a person that did not know him. But Alys knew him, or at least the boy he had been and she could see the line of tension in his shoulders.
Grief and sorrow tugged at her heart at that thought, and she wished she could go back in time to their young years. Before the war and the weight of the crown that surely strained his neck now. He was not wearing it and the evening was ruffling his carefully pulled-back hair, but he held his head as though it was perched on his head, unstable and heavy.
They walked in silence for the short minute it took them to reach Alysanne’s rooms, and even though she had been excited at the prospect of seeing him again, as she had once considered him a friend, she was now eager to find herself alone again.
When they arrived in front of the large door, he tilted his head at her slightly, a movement she could have easily missed, if she had not been so aware of him at that moment. She looked up at him and his purple gaze made her freeze in place for a second.
“It seems the Stranger has been cruel to us both by taking our spouses, and many others in this war,” she murmured, and as all she got as an answer was a hum, she added, “I will pray for their souls.”
—
A special thank you to @arcielee, my beta reader, and to @f4ll-for-you for helping me choose a name for my OC ♡♡
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