"I hear we are to be married. Thank you for consulting me."
Aelor grunted as she entered the tent at dusk, waving his hand at Edmure. With a sigh the squire turned to leave again, clearly sick of being ordered to and fro like a...well, like a squire. He'll learn yet. The Trout swims where the Dragon tells it.
As soon as the squire exited the Prince of the Iron Throne turned to his new betrothed. "Don't sound so surprised, my lady. It has been your entire goal since I first passed through the Golden Tooth."
Alysanne slipped back into the seat beside him where she had sat the day before, glancing curiously at the stacks of parchment stacked in front of Aelor. "My father's goal, you mean."
Aelor went back to writing, quill scratching as he finished the letter to the castellan of the castle Brindlewood whoever the hell they were, instating Alaric as its lord. "And yours. We both know it; there is no need to begin our marriage out with lies and deceit."
Alysanne to her credit didn't deny it. "I did tell you you'd have every unwed lady in Westeros chasing after you. I'm unwed and I'm also a lady."
Aelor chuckled shortly, signing the letter before closing it and sealing it with the warring twin dragons of his personal seal. He supposed the seal of the Hand of the King would carry more weight, but this was an internal matter of the high lordship of Duskendale, and any figure in Brindlewood prominent enough to be left as castellan would recognize Aelor's personal sigil above anything else. "Oh, I'm perfectly aware."
"So why me? I'm sure there were more beautiful women from more prominent families; Cersei Lannister, for example."
Aelor quickly looked up from beginning his next letter. "Don't even go there."
Alysanne giggled even as she held her hand out in deference. "Okay, maybe not Cersei Lannister, but that doesn't exclude the others."
Aelor lay his quill down and leaned back in his seat to eye her. It served a dual-purpose; his back was bloody killing him from hunching over those letters. "You're blunt and honest, and I admire that. Most noble ladies are curtseying, swooning maidens with more courtesy than brains. You're different."
Alysanne mockingly laid her hand on her heart. "The Seven, just what every woman wants to hear. Isn't this when you're supposed to confess your undying love for me?"
The Prince Regent shrugged even as he went back to his writing. "If you believe that is how noble marriages work, my lady, then I should reconsider my offer to your father."
"Oh I know it's not, but you could stand to be a bit more romantic. But I understand; you can't well give your heart when another already owns it."
Aelor's hand froze in the middle of writing a word, and he had to swallow before he could either continue writing or speak again. "If that is going to be an issue for you, tell me now. I'll take the blame from your father, citing some sudden change of my mind."
Alysanne's voice took a softer tone. "I knew my future husband most likely wouldn't love me, but I admit I didn't expect him to be in love with another. Particularly not someone…"
"Someone dead," Aelor finished her thought, voice crueler than he initially intended for it to be. "Well, I am. And before you ask, I'm not sure that is ever going to change."
She was silent a moment before speaking again. "If you had the choice you wouldn't marry soon or maybe even at all, would you."
"No, but I don't have the choice. My family is dwindling in number, if you hadn't noticed. After the tragedy at Summerhall and this war, there are few Targaryen's left in the world. I'm the only adult one alive besides my great uncle Aemon at the Wall, and thusly the only one able to 'inflate our numbers' in the near future. It is my duty."
"Yes, your duty, not your desire. That puts my future in a rather bleak light, doesn't it."
"Quite the contrary, actually." Aelor looked up to meet her eyes again, brief brush of emotion passed, face now the calm, hard countenance of the hard man he was. "I'm not one for self-praise, but I'm the most powerful man in the Seven Kingdoms right now. As my wife, you'd have your own share of it. I already value your counsel, as you've given me sound insight when prompted and even when not, but you'll still have influence even when I'm dead and gone, be that one year or one hundred. Your first son will be the Lord of Duskendale, your second the Lord of the Golden Tooth, their cousin the King of the Iron Throne. Your daughters will have advantageous marriages; one may even be the Queen, if that seems a prudent match to make. And, above all, our children's names will be Targaryen. And with that name comes power."
He lowered his head, voice growing deadly serious. "And you do want power, Alysanne; you are fiercely intelligent and you know it. That is the only reservation I have in our potential marriage."
She raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"
Aelor leaned forward in his seat, staring directly into her dark eyes with his violet ones. "I am the heir to the Iron Throne. If something should happen to Aegon, I will inherit the Seven Kingdoms. That means our first son will inherit them. Any woman I marry, perhaps with the exception of Ashara Dayne, would be sorely tempted to…help that along. After all, what good mother wouldn't want their son and his sons to be a King instead of a mere high lord?"
Alysanne, again to her credit, held his gaze evenly. "You're right; I do want power. I'm tired of being ordered to flirt with this lord or befriend that knight—or fuck that Prince—simply because I am a woman. You are a Targaryen, a member of the most powerful family to ever walk the roads of Westeros, and above that you are a male. You don't know how infuriating it is to be bartered and bred like a prize mare." Her eyes flared up in indignation and no small amount of anger, an anger she let bleed into her voice with absolutely no fear. "But do you truly think I would kill achild?"
Aelor's stone face softened for a moment. "No, Alysanne, I don't. If I thought there was even a chance of that I would never have asked for your hand. I do however think your father would, if it meant his grandson sat the Iron Throne."
He stood, turning to the trays behind him to pour the wine as she sat waiting, a reversal of their roles from the day before. "There is something you need to be fully aware of before we are wed, Lady Alysanne. You already know I love Aegon and Rhaenys as if they were my own children, and that I will gladly burn a dozen Lannisports to keep them safe and well. What you may not know, however, is that I will also burn a dozen men and dozens more if they compromise their safety." He turned to face her again, finding her eyes once more as he walked back to the table. "Even your father and all the Leffords left in the world."
Aelor took his seat again and leaned forward, hesitantly placing one of his hands on her much smaller one. "I wouldn't want to cause you that pain, for you have been one of if not the only thing that has kept me sane in the last few weeks. That is something I can never thank you enough for no matter how many years I have to try. But I need you to help me keep your father in line, and if he doesn't…"
She sat back slightly, though she didn't look away or move her hand from under his. "You are very fond of issuing threats, Prince Aelor; it seems to be all you do these days."
"I have Seven Kingdoms to rule and four children to raise in a savage country, half of which wanted my entire family dead not too long ago. Fear is all that's keeping them in line now." He patted her hand once before leaning back. "You are a good woman and a better person than I, Alysanne Lefford, and whatever I may have said earlier I know it. I may be a warrior at heart but I am by no means a fool; you have had ample opportunity to advance yourself and your family in the past few days and you have never even hinted at it. Most would have thought of nothing else but amassing as much power for themselves and their House in your situation, but all you cared about was me."
Alysanne shrugged. "Don't look too much into it; I have always had a perverse fascination with broken things."
She giggled lightly, and Aelor couldn't help but join in for a moment before growing serious once again. "You said I don't know what it is like to have my entire future planned out for me and you are partially correct—though being a Prince is not as glamorous as it may seem—so I am giving you a choice like you have always wanted. I do not love you and I am not sure I ever will, I'm as stubborn as your father is ambitious and I am capable of much blacker violence than anything you have seen yet. I cannot offer you the storied love of Prince Duncan and Jenny of Oldstones or Florian and Jonquil, and I cannot promise I won't occasionally lash out and act the utter fool. But I can promise you protection for yourself and your—our—children, a comfortable if somewhat stressful surrounding, and the full right to knock some sense into me when needed. And I can offer you the power of choice in this, which is something you won't have in your next marriage if you decide against me. That is what I have to offer you, Alysanne Lefford; the choice is yours."
She pursed her lips for a moment, eyeing him. "Is that an offer of marriage, because it sounded more like a proposition of business to me."
Aelor shrugged. "I'm not good at flowery words. Swords and killing are more my specialty."
Alysanne watched him a moment longer before rising and turning. Aelor watched, utterly confused, as she walked to where his bed and personal affects were located in the corner of the pavilion, scrounging around in the rapidly dying light. Without a word she seemed to find what she was searching for and turned to walk back to the table.
Alysanne placed the candle and its holder onto the table in front of them both with a thud, lighting it with the firesteel she had commandeered and casting light over the stacks of parchments. "Well, if I'm to be your wife, I can't well let you work yourself to death before I get the influence your marriage brings now can I?" She reached her hand out for a roll of parchment and the quill. "Who am I writing to and what am I saying?"
Aelor Targaryen smiled.