The Vailed Dragon

unwarranted plans

The royal family had finally arrived at King's Landing. As the Starks lined up to greet them, Alysane stood among the crowd, anticipation building within her. When King Robert Bratheron rode in, her initial reaction was one of amusement rather than awe. The once formidable warrior who had defeated Prince Rhaegar looked like he could topple over at any moment, burdened by excess.

While the Stark family exchanged pleasantries with the royalty, Alysane found herself growing increasingly bored. Eddard Stark's demeanor was stern and unyielding, a far cry from the charismatic aura of King Robert. As she wandered away from her secluded spot, the sight of Robert did not instill the same fear in her that Eddard had.

Later, in her chambers, Alysane debated whether to attend the royal feast. Despite her reluctance to be in their company, the allure of a grand feast was too strong to resist. Ros, her confidante, helped her prepare for the evening, dressing her in a black and brown gown adorned with light-colored fur accents. With few in the North or South catching her interest, the evening's prospects seemed rather bleak.

As she entered the grand hall, the cacophony of drunken laughter greeted her ears. Although Alysane had invited Ros, she found herself standing alone amidst the revelry. As she navigated through the crowd, dismissing a parade of intoxicated men, Jon Snow was nowhere to be found.

Glancing up at Lady Stark, Alysane understood Jon's absence. A flicker of sympathy crossed her expression as she approached the buffet, helping herself to Northern delicacies and a goblet of wine. Intent on heading home, she crossed paths with Jon, who was putting away his sparring sword.

"Lord Snow, you're missing the fun," she quipped, announcing her presence. Jon, now clean-shaven, turned to face her with an uncharacteristic lack of focus.

"A bastard wouldn't befit the King's presence," Jon responded, his tone veering toward mockery. A hint of shame lingered in his features, catching Alysane's attention.

"The King has fathered so many bastards, the queen herself may have lost count," Alysane retorted, eliciting a smile from Jon. "Come, eat."

She offered her overfilled plate to Jon, who hesitated before picking up a piece of chicken. Alysane couldn't help but notice Jon's newly shaven appearance, his clean-cut look contrasting with his rugged charm.

"You look different," she noted, her smile genuine and her tone tinged with a girlish giggle.

Jon chuckled, confused. "Different how?"

Alysane's smile persisted. "No, I mean it. The shave suits you. You just... look different."

Their conversation flowed, but the spark that usually ignited their banter seemed subdued. Genuine concern welled within her as she asked, "Is something wrong?"

Jon's response was a mumbled "No," but Alysane wasn't convinced. Taking his calloused hand in hers, she offered solace. "You can talk to me, Jon. You don't have to be alone. I'm here for you."

Alysane's comforting smile mirrored Jon's. Unbeknownst to her, their feelings were mutual. Their dynamic had evolved since their first meeting, from secret longings to unspoken support. Alysane felt a growing attachment to Jon, a desire to be near him, and she hoped he felt the same.

"Thank you, Alysane," Jon responded, his gaze softening.

With a subtle change of topic, Alysane's voice grew contemplative. "We're almost grown, Jon. We can't stay in Winterfell forever, can we?"

Jon considered her words. "I suppose not. I haven't really thought about it."

Alysane's thoughts wandered aloud. "I'd like to go south, maybe to King's Landing or even Dorne."

Jon's response held a hint of warmth. "Sounds nice, and warm."

Alysane hesitated, her heart pounding as she gathered her courage. "You should come with me."

Jon stammered in surprise, his words stumbling. "I—I would. That sounds nice, really nice."

Alysane's smile radiated joy. The conversation was interrupted by approaching footsteps. Tyrion Lannister emerged, joining them with a knowing look in his eyes.

"Ah, my Lord," Alysane greeted with a respectful nod. "I trust you've enjoyed your time here."

Tyrion's grin matched her tone. "Indeed, Lady Alysane. I hear you've been quite the generous host."

With a casual farewell to Jon, Alysane gracefully exited the scene, her mind already racing with plans. Tyrion's attention shifted to Jon, an inquiry in his eyes.

"I meant no offense. Nor did I intend to drive the lady away," Tyrion remarked, stepping closer. "You are a bastard, are you not?"

Jon's response remained unspoken, his expression betraying the weight of his status and the complexity of his feelings.

Jon's response remained unspoken, his expression betraying the weight of his status and the complexity of his feelings. He turned away from Tyrion's probing gaze, grappling with the unyielding expectations that came with his lineage.

As Alysane walked away, her steps fueled by determination, she couldn't shake the flutter of excitement in her chest. She was determined to tell Ros about her plans, to create a strategy to leave Winterfell and forge her own destiny, one that didn't confine her to the constraints of her birth.

She made her way through the dimly lit corridors, her mind racing with thoughts of freedom and adventure. She had never been one to conform to the norms dictated by society, and the prospect of venturing to the South, perhaps even to King's Landing, ignited a fire within her.

A/N; I think we all know bro is not going south 💀