Chapter Text
She comes to among shouting and pounding footsteps. At first her surroundings mean little to her. The Red Keep has become a frenzied madhouse since the death of the king, the man who technically was her father though he never acted as such. Every day there appeared to be a new tragedy or a new setback that sent the entire keep rushing about.
Her head and body ache fiercely. Again, that means little to her. More often than not she wakes with such pains from a night of overindulgence. It’s nothing a little wine can’t fix while she breaks her fast. One of her servants will bring a jug with her meal, and if they don’t, if her mother has chosen again to restrict her, she will simply make use of her hidden stash or one of the tunnels to the kitchen should she grow utterly desperate.
What finally clues Alysanne Targaryen in on the fact that she is not in her rooms or even in the Red Keep is the gentle rocking she can feel. Not fierce but at odds with what should be. As though she were on a boat.
Alysanne pushes herself up scrambling for purchase on the wooden floor beneath her. Her hands are bound, rope scraping against her wrists. Her ankles are much the same. She opens her eyes only to face pure darkness. Her eyes are covered, but she makes quick work of that, ripping her blindfold off with her trapped hands. Whipping her head about, Alysanne searches for any clue as to where she is or who her captors are. The room around her offers little.
It is a small room, wooden walls lacking in any ornamentation. There are a few chairs scattered around the room, but all far from her. A large iron lock holds the door shut. Alysanne turns her head. Above her a small window offers her a faint glimpse of blue sky and sunlight. With both her wrists and ankles tied, any chance of escape became impossible, but if she were to see where she was, whether they had left port or not, then she could come up with some sort of plan. Her family may hold little love for her, but they would pay a ransom.
She was a princess and one of their sole dragonriders. She held some degree of importance to their cause that none would refute. They would not abandon her.
Alysanne bit her lip.
Her family would not abandon her. They wouldn’t.
Above her the sun shone through the small window. The shouting that had awoken her grew in pitch. The ship pitched slightly to one side. She flexed her hands testing the give of the ropes. They held firm, tight knots held by firm rope. Her ankles were just the same. No matter how she tore at the rope she made no progress there.
Alysanne slumped back against the wall. With her movements limited, she had few options left to her. She could drag herself to one of the chairs. From there she could perhaps push it to barricade the door, but what would that do for her situation? She’d still be trapped. The sound would probably alert her captors. The iron lock was meant to keep her in not keep others out. A chair would do little to stop anyone if they truly wanted inside.
Alysanne struggled against the ropes binding her again.
At least she still had her jewelry. Her golden signet ring had not been taken from her, the visage of Sunfyre greeting her when she checks. Perhaps that meant she could bribe her kidnapper. Promise them an even greater treasure should they return her to her family unharmed with an early taste of what her family had in their vaults. Everyone had their price. Alysanne just had to find out what she was worth to her captors.
Only they had to know who she was. There were not many silver haired women wearing golden dragons on her jewelry walking the streets of King’s Landing. There were plenty of silver haired bastards, but her gold would set her apart. Whoever had taken her had to at least suspect her bloodline and her station.
But who? And how?
Alysanne ran her hands down her face. How her head ached. Beyond any hangover. Alysanne knew those intimately. This pain was similar, but it pierced through her head differently. She was nauseous, though that was not odd for her most days anymore. Her memories were foggy, blurring together.
She’d gone to see Sunfyre. Normally she would simply order a wheelhouse or a litter to bring her to the Dragonpit, but with the hour of ghosts upon the keep, she chose to take to the tunnels. There was one offshoot that took her under the city to the pit. With few others aware of such a path, there was no way she could have come upon anyone else at that hour of night.
Except she doesn’t remember making it to the Dragonpit. Even if she had but didn’t remember, Sunfyre would have prevented any attempt to take her. Which meant that she’d been taken from the Red Keep or the tunnels themselves.
A sharp spike of fear hit her.
The tunnels of the keep were not as safe as she once thought they were. Others had used them, recently too. Aemond had only caught one of the perpetrators though he executed more. Rhaenyra could have sent another, another killer to creep through the walls to rip Alysanne from her home just as easily as her first ones ripped Jaehaerys from Helaena.
Bile crawled up Alysanne’s throat.
But why would Rhaenyra leave her alive? Why did Alysanne still draw breath?
Alysanne’s hand drop to her lap, pressing back into her stomach. Rhaenyra had many reasons to want Alysanne dead and very few to keep her alive. What was a little more blood during a war? What was the title kinslayer when she already wore it?
Questions she could not answer in her current situation. Alysanne shook her head clearing away her thoughts. She should focus on what she could answer now. She turned her head up towards the window above her. If she could get to her feet, she could catch a glimpse outside. Best case scenario, she was simply in boat sitting on the harbor of the city. Her captors would ransom her back to her family.
The worst-case scenario was best not considered just yet.
Alysanne reached down to tug at the ropes binding her ankles. Even less give than before. Gods, she was going to have to start carrying around a blade after this. For other reasons, of course, but currently she’d trade just about anything to cut through the roughhewn rope. Twisting her spine, Alysanne placed her hands on the ship wall.
Standing would be twice as hard without the free use of her feet, but she would suffer through it. If she just dragged herself up the wall, her feet would support her so long as she didn’t move to much in either direction. The wall would take her weight well enough.
Her nails scratched against the wood. Arms trembling, she hauled herself upwards. The window quickly came into view. Standing up on the tips of her toes, Alysanne pressed her face towards the light catching a glimpse of the world outside.
Her heart dropped to her stomach.
Emerging from the mist, the black walls of Dragonstone were not a welcome sight.
“No.” Alysanne whispered, pressing her fingers to the window. “No, seven hells no.”
Behind her the door rattled. Alysanne spun around barely staying on her feet. A great thunk echoed around the room as the lock slid free. Seconds later the door swung open.
“Ah, you’re awake.” A cold voice hissed. Alysanne pressed her back against the wall. “Knew we should have given you a touch more to keep you out.”
Daemon Targaryen stepped though the threshold. At his hip sat Dark Sister, a clear and present threat. A dark cloak sat about his shoulders, the hood down to reveal his smirking pale face. Before her now, he looked every bit the monster her mother called him instead of the dragonknight the rest of the realm named him. Behind him two men stood blocking any means of escape. Not that there really was any with Daemon before her. A single twitch of her fingers and the man would run her through.
Alysanne’s hands dropped in front of her stomach.
“Uncle, how interesting to run into you.” Alysanne spoke with bravado she did not truly feel.
Daemon smirked at her. “Take care with the princess, boys, she’s quite spoken for. My dear step-son would be quite cross with any who dared take considerations with his lady wife.”
Then the scoundrel turned with a laugh and left Alysanne to the men behind him.