After opening her heart to Aegon, Alysanne wonders is everything she knew was wrong, if everything she had thought from her childhood about her family is false. Aegon is her family, yes. But she does not see him the way she sees Robb, Bran, and Rickon. It is different. She is different.

As soon as the two begin to actually speak, things between them become less tense. The last of the snow is finally melting, and though there are no flowers, and the breeze carries a chill, the frozen ground has become muck.

All too soon spring is arriving, and all of the nobles sworn to Dragonstone are gathering for a celebration in the middle of town.

"It is a sight to behold," Daenerys said, "It was one of my favorite festivals when I was small. There are rare flowers, and merchants, and the dwarves do a show in the town square. Then the ball is the following evening."

"It's to celebrate the new birth of spring," Alarra interjects, "Since winter is over and spring is here. I suppose you had no reason to celebrate it in the North." She frowns slightly but then smiles when Alysanne shows no look of offense.

"No," Alysanne agrees, "Even in the summer we had snow."

"Then you simply must go," Daenaera continues gushing with a warm look on her eyes, "the legends say that any who profess love during the Spring Festival will be blessed with fertility."

Elissa crinkles her face in distaste and Jeyne giggles quietly but finishes tying Alysanne's hair back in neat braids with the rest of her hair loose.

"His Grace has invited me," Alysanne eventually divulges. She never thought she would enjoy the company of the girls who attend to her on Dragonstone. Then again, she never thought she would enjoy Aegon's company either. She hesitantly continues, "I did not know whether I should attend."

"You should certainly go!" cries Alarra, "I wish I could," she pouts so similarly to Arya that it hurts Alysanne to see, "We've spent hours readying your gown for the ball tonight."

"But-" Alysanne continues.

"I know we did not ask for your permission to sew the gown," Daenera blusters, "But I had a feeling you would want to attend."

"Alright," Alysanne finally agrees after a moment of pregnant silence, "You've all convinced me. It ought to be as splendid as you've all made it seem or I should be terribly disappointed."

She kisses Daenerys' check before following Aegon from her apartment while ignoring the quiet giggling of the girls she has come to see as friends.

Aegon brings Alysanne to the town that hosts most of the population of the island. It is like nothing she has ever seen. All around there are those with pale skin, white hair, and violet eyes. She is in a sea of Valyrians, invisible, rather than in a sea of the First Men.

"Dragonseed," Aegon says by way of explanation, as their wheelhouse throttles across the scorched cobblestones.

"Your Grace!" the voices begin to call in excitement and the voices begin to rise as the smallfolk try to get nearer to the wheelhouse.

Ser Jaime and the guards keep them at bay until Aegon opens a wooden window and speaks calmly to the crowd.

"My dear friends, my betrothed," Alysanne's eye twitches at that for though she has accepted Aegon into her life, she still has no desire to wed him, "has joined me today to enjoy the festival in town. Let us not overwhelm her."

The crowd relaxes and they begin to thin on their own, lingering still near the wheelhouse in awe of seeing the Crown Prince with his betrothed.

"Did you have to say that?" Alysanne asks in annoyance. She had been enjoying the scenery, the breeze, the warmth. Now she felt ill at ease, and in her opinion, it was due to Aegon's loose lips.

"I do not lie to my people, Alys."

Alysanne huffs but schools her expression when a household knight opens the wheelhouse and Aegon helps her step down from her seat.

"She's a beauty, Yer Grace!" hollers a man nearby.

"A true Valyrian beauty," a woman in finer clothes that leads Alysanne to believe she might be married to a merchant.

"This is the lovely Princess Alysanne, daughter of Queen Lyanna and my Lord Father," Aegon says to the enraptured crowd, "She will one day be Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

The children stare in awe, violet eyes wide with excitement.

"A princess!" one cries, missing front teeth changing her speech.

Eventually, the crowd dissipates, lingering at the edges of the town square in chattering excitement. They give the pair space, perhaps hoping to keep their prince at ease. Though a few children continue to follow Alysanne and Aegon with tittering whispers of thrill as they stroll about town to enjoy the Spring Festival.

They watch a show of half men in the town center act out the romance of Jaehaerys and Alysanne. The dwarves kissed and dance and then threw petals in the air before pulling hidden stuffed dolls from behind them in waving them in the air.

"How many children shall we have my Lady Wife?" the bearded dwarf demands.

His counterpart giggles and makes a show out of pulling the dolls from her pocket frantically.

"Let's see… That'll be thirteen, I say!"

The crowd roars with laughter and Alysanne can't help but smile slightly. Of course, Jaehaerys and Alysanne would be the focus of the Spring festival. Alarra had said that the festival celebrated spring and fertility.

The crowd throws coins and the group of little people bows and cheers before moving to start a new play with a fresh audience.

Aegon leads Alysanne to a stall far in the corner.

"I love the fresh oysters from this festival," he reveals, "When we were very young, Daenerys and I would sneak away from Ser Arthur and eat them until we were suffering from bad bellies."

Alysanne can hardly imagine it, Daenerys and her otherworldly beauty lying with a bad belly of oysters. For some reason, the thought saddens her. She knows her family none at all until now. Why? Why did Elia send her away? Why was she never able to see her father's family?

"You have been quiet," Aegon finally says as the two sit inelegantly, cross-legged on a thick blanket provided by Ser Jaime.

"I- yes."

Aegon studies Alysanne quietly before speaking again, "Would you care to discuss why you have been so?"

Alysanne is hesitant to speak and so Aegon continues, "You fear you will upset me?"

"I suppose," Alysanne finally admits, "But I think perhaps… I might upset myself."

Aegon stares at Alysanne impassively, waiting for her to continue, and so Alysanne sighs, "I feel as though I have missed so much, too much. I do not know you, or Daenerys, or Rhaenys-"

"You know us now."

"I know nothing," Alysanne cries in frustration, "And I cannot help but feel that – well, that I am not part of this family. I know you now, yes. But I have no memories of our shared childhood. I have no stories of a bad belly of oysters, or of coming to this festival each year with Daenerys. I missed Rhaenys' wedding and I am only now getting to know the lady who will be Uncle Viserys' wife. I- I missed so much and it hurts." Her eyes well up with tears and Aegon has a look on his face that forces Alysanne to continue, "I want no pity-"

"It is not pity that you see but shared grief, Alys."

Alysanne chokes on a sob and Aegon shifts to sit closer to her. He takes her hand in hers and looks at her with such intensity that Alysanne is momentarily taken aback.

"We have always wanted you. From the moment I knew of you, knew that I had another sister in this world, I have wanted you by my side. Daenerys, Rhaenys, and I – we left room for you. You were in our games, even if you were not truly there. Daenerys and Rhaenys played dress up with you. We brought you to this festival each year. You were with us, if not in body but in spirit. Do you understand what I am saying, Alys? We wanted you."

Alysanne buries her face in her hand, tears flowing as Aegon hands her a silken handkerchief, "But your mother-"

"-Is in a difficult position. I know she sent you away. It was not right, and I have said as much. Daenerys and Rhaenys and father have too. But they had no choice. My mother did not hate you."

Alysanne scoffs and Aegon continues earnestly, "She did not. I know it seems hard to believe. She sent you away – yes. She did want you gone. You reminded of her Lyanna and of our father's adultery.

As much as I love Mother Lyanna, I understand the shame that my own mother bared. She had no desire for our father to take a second wife, but she accepted it. And when Lyanna was taken by the Stranger they tried to force Cersei Lannister on our father in her place. She wanted to leave our father but she could not."

Alysanne looks at Aegon in confusion.

"They wanted you dead, sweet sister. The Lannisters wanted you dead and then Eddard Stark demanded that you return North with him, and my mother in her anger and her resentment against our father agreed. And so, her anger at Lyanna and father and all of the destruction – it was placed on you. She regrets it. I know she does."

Alysanne swallows. It is too much. This is too much. Everything she had thought from her whole childhood is a lie. And if it is not, she wants it to be. Because this tastes sweeter, feels fairer. She wants her family, wants a future.

"We have always wanted you," Aegon says fiercely, eyes aflame with such emotion that Alysanne chokes on a sob before throwing her arms around his neck tightly. "I have always wanted you."


After the emotional wave of their meal, Alysanne dries her tears and follows Aegon to the stalls of brightly colored goods. There are spices, silks, and an endless supply of exotic flowers.

"A narcissus," a kindly woman says as she names the bud that Alysanne had been inspecting. "Beautiful, are they not?"

Alysanne nods and the woman smiles, "If you like any of our flowers, Your Grace, we would be happy to send as many as you like to the castle. At no extra charge for you, of course."

"We would pay the same as any," Aegon says firmly, "I would not be a fair ruler if I took from my people because of my station."

"I mean no offense, Your Grace-"

"No offense taken," he pulls his purse from his pocket and takes note of the flowers he saw Alysanne inspecting, "We will take the lot of them."

The other merchants nearby drop their jaws, and a few whisper curses of jealous at the woman's fortune. The Crown Prince's patronage is highly coveted, especially when he spends enough gold to feed a family for a year.

"From all of you," Aegon continues to even more surprise, "We shall need them for the ball, and my betrothed has been admiring these blooms."

The merchants are chattering in happiness, flustered by the prince's request and excited to have their wares lining the walls of Dragonstone for the Spring Ball.

They continue on their way until Alysanne is enticed by an elderly woman's small shop filled with exotic silks, thin linens, and soft satin.

The lace is especially beautiful, fine and delicate. She thinks about the gown that her ladies had sewn her and thinks specifically of Daenaera. She is by far the most gifted with a needle, and who had certainly spent the most time of any of her ladies sewing this mysterious gown – a gown that Alysanne has yet to see, which leads her to believe that the Velaryon had been working by candlelight in the wee hours of the morning or late hours of the evening. The toothless women smiles as she sees her interest and speaks directly to her, "A special deal for ye, Yer Grace! Fine Lysene lace. Fit for a bridal cloak, it is."

Aegon sees Alysanne pause and she turns red at his gaze, "I was looking for Daenaera! She has started to embroider her wedding gown and mentioned wanting lace." She clears her throat and begins to turn around, "I haven't any coin anyway."

"You've not spent any of the allowances I've set aside for you," Aegon points out. "If you would favor this lace for Lady Daenaera, you should purchase it."

Alysanne pauses, and then fingers the lace again before picking up the entire bolt with determination, as well as several thinner silks, gossamer, a light natural colored linen and several rolls of golden thread. It is paid for, and costs far less than Alysanne thinks it should, and is promptly loaded into their wheelhouse.

Their next stop is the town bake shop, which is covered in bright floral decorations for the Spring Festival.

"Good afternoon, my friend," Aegon says as the baker comes into sight, "I have the order for this turn."

"Yer Grace! I wasn't expectin' ye for another sennight. What'll it be this time?"

"Was last turns order enough?"

Alysanne is looking back and forth in confusion.

"A bit shy, Yer Grace."

"What are you ordering, Your Grace?" Alysanne questions.

"Bread of course," Aegon replies, "For the orphanage and the widows."

"A good deed certainly, Yer Grace." The rotund man takes the coins offered and then bows again, "Bless ye, truly."

When they leave Alysanne is stunned, "You do that every turn?"

Aegon looks at her in confusion, "Of course. I am the Prince of Dragonstone. This is my land, and these are my people. I am meant to look after them or no one else would."

He leads her to a small stand with a young woman bouncing a baby on her hip as she shows off the many handmade jewelry pieces in front of her. "Perhaps you would like to pick out something new?"

The woman's wide violet eyes look especially eager and hopeful, and Alysanne wonders if she has sold a single item during the festival. Her baskets velvet lined cushions look suspiciously full.

Alysanne is about to refuse when Aegon continues, "After all if the nobles hear that the future Princess of Dragonstone has bought from this stand, they will flock to purchase similar things in an effort to embrace you and perhaps gain your favor."

The young woman looks hopeful, and the child at her side claps her hands with a smile, "Oh please, Yer Grace. I would be grateful for the honor of sellin' to the future Queen."

Alysanne cannot bear to let her or the babe down so she stares at the pieces before her until she finally picks up a bracelet of glass beads with a hyacinth flower in the middle. The color reminds her of Jeyne's eyes and the one beside it of Alarra's favorite sea-green gown with a lily. "Do you perhaps have others of these? A violet, a dahlia, a hibiscus, and a winter rose?"

The woman eagerly shows her bracelets similar to what Alysanne requests and she hands over several coins while pocketing the bracelets when a small golden ring catches her eye. It has a thin band, with an opal in the center, flecks of green, orange, and blue prominent in the cabochon face.

Simple, but beautiful.

Aegon follows her eye and picks the ring up, handing the woman another coin, "This one as well."

"It might not fit," Alysanne objects while Aegon slips the ring onto her first finger.

"A perfect match," the Valyrian merchant says with a soft smile.

Across the square, a dark-haired man turns away.


Alysanne wakes to the gentle voice of her bedmate for the evening, Elissa.

"We've to ready you for the ball," Elissa reminds her, "and Daenerys has requested breakfast with you."

Alysanne eats sleepily with Daenerys, lounging in her chambers before the two are ferried into steaming hot baths. Oils are applied to their skin, and rouge to their lips and cheeks. Daenaera ties intricate braids into Alysanne's hair and smooths her curls into tapered perfection. Flowers are sewn into her hair and finally, she sees the creation that Daenaera had worked so diligently to complete.

The gown that they sew her into is a pale blush with lace flowers and butterflies of white gold and silver climbing up from the skirt. The neck plunges in a v and the back is entirely bare but for a few crossing strings. It is a gown with strong Dornish influence, and Alysanne loves it. Her earrings and necklace highlight the column of her neck and the swell of her breasts. With only a moment of thought she slides the opal ring unto her finger.

"You look glorious," Daenerys comments, putting her mask in front of her face teasingly, "We could be twins, now!"

It is true, Alysanne thinks. They are of a similar build, of the same height, with the same hair length. Yet their eyes will always be a way to tell the two Targaryen princesses apart.

"The ball has begun," Daenaera says, "We ought to put on our masks and join the festivities."

Alysanne ties the mask to her face, careful not to dislodge her tiara or destroy the pristine braids that Daenaera had painstakingly tied.

They rush down the main staircase towards the ballroom where the string group is already playing and the guests are flittering around. It seems most of the nobles in attendance are from the crownlands. Based on hair alone, Alysanne sees plenty of Bar Emmons, Velaryons, Celitgars, and Sunglasses.

And she knows when she sees Aegon. It isn't his hair that gives him away, or even his eyes. It's his gait – the way he stands – he controls the room. And he knows it. Her ladies giggle around her when he walks directly towards her.

"My Princess," he says and Alysanne's cheeks redden.

"Your Grace," she replies as Aegon leads her towards the dance floor.

They twirl about for three songs before Alysanne begins to feel parched and the two steal away to a small alcove.

"Are you enjoying your first Southern ball?"

"Perhaps," Alysanne replies coyly, "It mightn't be my first."

"Hmm," Aegon smiles, "Already a masqueraded Southern seductress. You might be right my love. This could not possibly be your first time."

Alysanne smiles mischievously and before she can reply, Aegon's fingers are trailing across her bare back. It stings – tingles – shocks. Her hair stands on end, and the feel of his soft caresses causes her peaks to harden as though a cold breeze has passed through.

"You are by far the stunning star of the night, Alys," Aegon continues, "In this sinful gown. I will have to thank Lady Daenaera personally for her effort."

Alysanne blushes deeply, and swats his arms as she hides her face in his chest.

"It embarrasses you when I comment on your beauty," Aegon remarks, "It should not. You are perfect, in every sense, sweet sister."

She looks up and although she hears the strings playing, smells the wine – all she can feel is the heat of Aegon's breath, see the embers in his eyes. He's moving closer and Alysanne thinks she may finally be ready-

"Ah my nephew," comes a drawling voice and Alysanne jerks away hastily.

"Viserys," Aegon says, politely if not shortly.

"I see that I have interrupted you," Viserys notes as he leans against the wall, "Perhaps I came at the right time. I would not want my niece's virtue in question." He turns to Alysanne, "Alysanne, you are as fair as your mother was. It is a pleasure to finally meet you. Daenaera writes highly of you."

Alysanne's blush deepens, which she is certain should not be possible, and then stutters are fragmented greeting that would have had Septa Mordane cracking her knuckles.

"Viserys-" Aegon growls.

"Oh please," Viserys continues, "I am only looking out for the both of you. Rutting like lovesick children at a masquerade ball. It's as though you've decided to act out the tawdry writings that Rhaenys and Arianne read.

Alysanne mumbles are horrifyingly embarrassed and she rushes away towards Daenerys who is hanging on Corlyss Velaryon's every word.

"You look rather flushed," Dany notes with a sweet smile, "Should I expect to see my nephew in disarray?"

"For the sake of-" Alysanne begins to curse while Dany's tinkling laughter travels.

"Welcome to a Southern ball, my love," Dany says with a chaste kiss to Alysanne's cheek.

Alysanne grumbles unhappily but allows Aegon to take her towards the dance floor where they begin to spin to the beat of a high tempo number.

They share four dances before Aegon is called away and Alysanne rushes towards Daenaera in an effort to avoid dancing with someone she does not know.

"If I had not sewn that gown myself, I would swear that you could pass for me," Daenaera begins with a small smile, "We do look alike, especially with these masks on."

Alysanne nods absently and Daenaera continues, "I know you like it here."

Alysanne looks at Daenaera in confusion, "I-"

Daenaera's hands are clasped in front of her and Alysanne sees a hint of the Daenaera that she has only seen in passing before. This Daenaera can navigate the snake pit of King's Landing, has an astute head on her shoulders, and is ready to take her position as a Targaryen Princess, "Because you could take your mask off at any moment and perhaps someone here would betray His Grace. But you have not. I wonder why that is, Alysanne."

Alysanne frowns, "If you wish to say something, Daenaera, I suggest you do so plainly."

Daenaera turns and looks at Alysanne directly, "You have feelings for His Grace, and you enjoy your life in the South."

Before Alysanne can contradict her, Daenaera continues, "Please, Alys. There is no shame. Perhaps the start of your time here was full of strife. But it is in the past. You are the only person who stands in the way of your own happiness. Accept that His Grace is your future sooner, for you know not how many years you will have together before the Stranger takes either of you."

Alysanne swallows and Daenaera must sense her anxiety because she takes Alysanne's hand into her own. "Princess Lyanna and His Grace had mere turns together, and yet their love is perhaps the greatest love story since King Jaehaerys and his Queen Alysanne. Live fiercely, Alysanne, and love deeply."

Daenaera presses a kiss to Alysanne's cheek and as she sees Aegon approach, Daenaera curtseys and disappears into the crowd in search of Viserys.

"Is anything the matter?" Aegon questions, seeing Alysanne's tense arms and glassy eyes.

Alysanne looks Aegon. Truly looks at him. His deep violet eyes are nearly indigo, and his silvery hair is only slightly longer than it was the first time the met, pulled back and framing his slightly rounded jaw. She knows he is beautiful. Any woman could see how handsome he is. But she knows what is within, knows of his deeds, his hopes, and his dreams.

"Nothing," Alysanne says finally, with a genuine smile, "Daenaera was simply being a true friend."

Aegon smiles, and they dance until the moon retires and the sun rises across the Narrow Sea.


"You are sure of what you saw?" Lord Stark demands sternly, eyes glittering with silent rage.

"Aye, Lord Stark. She's there with the Targaryen Prince," Wyman Manderlay says glumly. He knows the implications of what his son saw. The realm does not need another rebellion, and neither do his pockets, which have become quite shallow since the refusal to trade with the South.

"We cannot let this stand!" Umber cries, "Another Northern daughter stolen by a Targaryen Prince! Princess Alysanne is a beacon of the north-"

"Aye," Lady Mormont says coolly, "This insult is too much to bear."

"We cannot go to war," says Lord Bolton, his pale eyes lacking any emotion, "Winter has only just gone."

"I do not know want war either," continues Lord Reed, "If only because it would not bring Her Grace back to Winterfell. I will do as my Lord commands, however. Where a Stark goes the North will follow."

"Aye!" cries Karstark, "And what says the Warden of the North?"

Lord Stark looks even and has sat in quiet contemplation while his lords have argued and wailed about the injustices served to them by the Southern Dragon King. He stands and the room quiets. His mouth opens, and then he makes his final decision, "Call the banners! We will march!"

Robb watches the men cheer and thinks about the months since Alysanne's abduction. His father was not truly the man that he had known. Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell had always been level headed, even, the quiet wolf. And yet when it came to the topic of his beloved niece, Princess Alysanne, Robb saw a side of his father that he would swear belonged to another.

The quiet wolf became deadly.

The whole Known World knew of the story of Lyanna Stark and her Dragon Prince. Betrothed to Robert Baratheon, and in love with Rhaegar Targaryen, Lyanna Stark had fled from Riverrun into Rhaegar's arms. Brandon Stark and Rickard Stark died soon after, murdered by the Mad King Aerys. After demanding Ned Stark's head, Jon Arryn raised his banners in rebellion. Princess Lyanna was missing, presumed abducted by Rhaegar, and Elia Martell was held hostage with the royal children at King's Landing.

Robert had been beaten at the Trident, and Rhaegar's men set their sights on King's Landing and King Aerys. The Mad King was unstable, paranoid, and had no desire to lose his kingdom to his son and heir and demanded that all of the city burn. Only by the quick thinking of Ser Jaime Lannister was King's Landing saved from the Mad King's flames.

Peace talks at the Trident had made Ned aware that his sister was married, happy, in love, and in Dorne. Under Targaryen and Stark banners, Ned raced to the Tower of Joy only to watch his sister die in childbed, a silver-haired babe in hand.

From that day, Ned had been Alysanne's father in all but name. He carried Alysanne and Lyanna's bones back to Winterfell and raised Alysanne as though she was his own. In their minds, she was a Stark of Winterfell.

Robb knew this to be true. Alysanne was their sister. She was their family. She was of the North. She belonged in the North.

Robb raises his sword and cheers.


"Silverwing!" Alysanne scolds when the silver kitten pounces onto Aegon's lap as they break their fast. The kitten gives no indication she has heard Alysanne and proceeds to eye Aegon's freshly caught fish.

Aegon pets her and feeds her a sliver of fish and Alysanne isn't sure what she's feeling. She thinks of the words the women in her life have spoken about what she thinks she may perhaps feel. Ever since the ball things have been different. No, Alysanne thinks, it was before that. Things had not been as they were for a while. But the ball still managed to change everything. Daenaera's words echoed in her head, and everything had changed.

The looks which had one been lingering were now without shame. Aegon stared upon her visage as though he would never see her again. He drank her in like a fine Dornish red. He stared at her lips and her fingers, and watched her hips sway as she swanned from his reach.

He is pursuing me.

Before he was simply trying to convince her that he was worth having in her life. Now, though, he is honest in his desire. He wants more than she has given, and Alysanne is not quite sure what she is willing to give and what she is willing to take.

She is not sure about any of this because she has far too many feelings about the entire situation that has occurred. She enjoys his gaze, finds comfort in the heat with which he looks upon her skin. That much is certainly true. And yet she wonders if she is in love with the thought of love, if she is betraying those who are looking for her by embracing the man who took her from her uncle.

At times like this, Alysanne wishes she had the company of the Mormont sisters. More shrewd women she has never encountered, and wiser shieldmaidens have never existed. And thus, she quietly begins to enquire what love feels like to her ladies – who though they pretend not to react seem to know exactly what is on her heart.

"It's a fluttering," sighed Alarra, as she spoke of her betrothed, Lord Edric Dayne of Starfall, "He writes me such sweet notes."

"Viserys is a man of few words," Daenaera revealed, "He gives me flowers, hyacinths, because he knows how I love them."

"Each time Corlyss and I meet it feels warm. As though I have someone who will protect me. Not from danger, but protecting my heart that I willingly gave." Daenerys sighs and leans back.

Elissa smiles lightly, "I've yet to feel that way. However, I will not deny my nerves whenever Lord Clement looks my way."

"Alysanne?" a voice asks, and she looks up.

"Yes?"

"I've been saying your name for a while. Have you a day dream or two?"

Alysanne's face begins to heat and she mumbles something quietly that thankfully, Aegon does not ask her to repeat.

"I thought perhaps we could take a walk in Aegon's Garden. The flowers have begun to bloom."

Alysanne sits up and agrees as Daenerys looks on with a sly expression on her face.

Surrounded by the fresh greenery of spring, Alysanne finds the anger that has been her companion on Dragonstone has faded. Where once she might have thought of the time she spent on the island hostage, she thinks of how greenthe south is.

"Alysanne," Aegon begins, "I know we have spoken of this before, but you did not want to hear it then."

Alysanne hopes that Aegon will not ruin this moment by speaking of a marriage that Alysanne still does not want. It is not that Alysanne dislikes the idea of marriage – or even the idea of marriage with Aegon. Rather, Alysanne is annoyed by the prospect of being forced into a marriage without her consent, even to a man she has grown to want in earnest. Alysanne is not sure about her feelings, and therefore she is sure she is not ready for marriage.

"Must we needs discuss this?" Alysanne replies with a look of long-suffering.

"It is critical that we do," Aegon replies, "I feel I must tell you of what I know."

Alysanne acquiesces, albeit without enthusiasm. Perhaps she has feelings for Aegon, but she is still not accepting of the way that they had met, the way that their relationship had begun.

"I know you do not believe me, but I did send you letters. I never received a response, but I did send my personal raven each turn to update you of our family. I did this for over six years."

Alysanne frowns, "It's not that I am refusing to believe you-"

"It's a raven with a left wing that had a single white feather."

Alysanne's eye twitches and Aegon notices immediately.

"You have," he says slowly, "So my letters did arrive. You just never received them."

Alysanne is watching the look of comprehension cross Aegon's face before it becomes stony, "But why-"

"It's unimportant," Aegon says, thinking of Alysanne's continued distress about missing the early lives of her family members and what she would feel if she knew the truth, "What matters is that we are together here and now."

"But-"

"We can make new memories together."

Alysanne senses the conversation is done, even if she doesn't think it's over in the slightest. Because Alysanne knows of only one raven with a white feather – and she does not like the conclusions she is drawing.