Alysanne 90AC
"I will not marry him!" The door to Alysanne's chambers was yanked open, hitting the stone wall with a loud clang. "If you think for one second, Mother, that I will willingly wed old Lord Manderly, then you are more of a lackwit that this court says I am!"
Alysanne gazed up at her youngest daughter from her seat by the hearth. Her Winter Child's face was no longer delicate and dainty. Gael's purple eyes glared harshly, her lips sternly pursed, her silver hair flowing down her shoulders wild and untamed.
"Since when did you get the idea that you were to marry Lord Manderly, sweetheart?" Alysanne gestured to the chair across from her, but Gael only glared. Alysanne raised an eyebrow. "Sit, daughter." Her voice was firm and Gael made her way to sit in the red armchair, wooden staff tapping at the floor rhythmically.
"Baelon," Gael replied. "Baelon mentioned that the King had promised me in Viserra's stead. Said it was discussed during the small council meeting earlier."
"I have no intention of having you marry Lord Manderly," Alysanne's words were firm.
"But the King does?" Gael countered, her fingers skimming over the polished wood of her staff.
"Jaehaerys has betrothed you to Lord Manderly, Gael, yes," Alysanne grasped her tea from the side table next to her chair. "But you will never go to White Harbor." She raised the tea to her mouth and took a sip. By the time you are declared to be of an age to marry, Lord Manderly will have succumbed to old age."
"I do not understand," Gael's brow twisted in confusion. "What is the purpose of a betrothal then? Some sort of punishment then? Like Serra?"
Alysanne put down her tea. Memories of a beautiful girl in an expensive gown with a cocky grin plastered on her face haunted the Good Queen's mind. She looked up at Gael, the daughter who resembled dead Viserra the least but regardless had loved her the most of all of Alysanne's children.
"To protect you, my Winter Child," the Queen sighed. "Rhaenys' betrothal to Lord Velaryon and your claiming of Tessarion has made you the most desirable eligible maiden in Westeros. Ravens after ravens have arrived at King's Landing from Lords, both great and minor, inquiring about your hand."
"Why? I am…"
"The daughter of a King. With a dragon. This betrothal has bought House Targaryen the time needed to decide your fate."
Gael stood up abruptly. "And what is my fate then, Mother?" Her voice grew louder. "To which of the Seven Kingdoms should I expect to be shipped off to in a couple of years?"
"You're a dragonrider, Gael." Alysanne slowly got to her feet. "House Velaryon is being given a dragonrider bride the day your niece weds the Lord of the Tides. Your Father would be a fool to allow another House, especially one without Valyrian Blood, to possess such power." The Good Queen's blue eyes met Gael's purple. "Dragons belong to the House of the Dragon, to House Targaryen, and that is where you shall wed."
Gael's mouth began to tremble. "In the tradition of our House," she whispered. "But that means…"
Alysanne reached for her daughter's hand. "Your brother. Or one of his sons. But who Jaehaerys will choose…" the Queen sighed. "I have no idea. It could be Baelon or Viserys or perhaps even Daemon. Alas I cannot help but merely be grateful that regardless of who your father demands you wed you will stay in the Red Keep with me, my Winter Child."
Alysanne reached up to run her hands through her daughter's hair, but Gael Targaryen only looked at her with hatred in her tearfilled eyes before grabbing her walking stick and storming out of the room, perhaps even more distraught than when she had entered.
Alysanne could only hear the gentle but still furious clicks of the walking stick as her youngest child walked further and further away.