Chapter Text
Chapter 1
The halls of the Red Keep were in chaos. The betrothed to the Prince of Dragonstone had been viscously and intentionally attacked within it’s walls. Fearing suspicion, servants scattered to their respective tasks as not to draw attention and also to alert others of the horrible event. The clang of armor and frantic shouting reverberated through the old stone walls.
“Secure the King!”
“How could this happen?!”
“Find the son of a bitch, now!”
“Fetch the Maester!”
Your other senses were on high alert; you could no longer open your eye for fear it was no longer there…and blood was flooding your vision. You could hear hurried footsteps on marble floors clear across the hall. You could feel the cool, thick blood running down your face and soaking into your gown. The cooper smell of the blood was overwhelming and unforgettable. You couldn’t avoid swallowing and inhaling your own blood while you laid bleeding in Ser Stefon’s arms.
Ser Stefon screamed, “Has the Prince been found?!” You could hear the fear and panic in his voice—which means this seasoned Knight was also scared. In an effort to reassure you, he refocused his attention to you and in a soft voice whispered, “My Lady, I’m here and the Prince is coming.” You’ve known Ser Stefon since your first day at King’s Landing, and took comfort in his words. Even though you knew him well enough to recognize the panic in his voice.
Time creeped still, and the air become cold. You were losing too much blood. “Ser…Stefon…the air…it’s so cold.” He immediately removed the clasps of his white cloak and placed it over your blood soaked gown. It’s previous shade of blue now turned a putrid black. “This will keep you warm, My Lady. I’ll keep you warm.” Further down the hall you heard his voice coupled with what sounded like a dozen hurried feet. “By the Gods, Alyssa!” Prince Baelor, your fiancé and future King had arrived, just like Ser Stefon said he would.
He was out of breath, having sprinted from his study which was on the opposite side of the Keep. You couldn’t see him but knew his voice, and could smell him — a mix of sandalwood and leather, through it all. He took your head in his hands, as Ser Stefon relinquished your care to the him.
“I’ve come as quickly has as I could, beloved. Can you hear me?”
“Yes, love. I’m afraid….I am dying.”
You heard a gasp come from his mouth and he dropped his head to yours and whispered, “I’d sooner burn the world than lose you.” Using strength he hadn’t used since the war, he picked you up in one fell swoop and gently placed you on top of the board to be carried to the Maester’s chambers. His hands had never failed you, and you thought even in this moment how much you wanted to look upon his face…just once more. You could feel his beard stubble against your cheek and even his Hand of the King pin pressed against your arm as he held you. After he set you down, he took the time to smooth your gown once you were in place, seemingly trying to do everything in his power to help you in some way.
The Maester wasted no time getting to the matter.
“Where are you cut, my Lady? Is it just your face, or are you hurt elsewhere?”
“My face…and hand…I think. I…I can’t see…”
“I must ask that you remove your hand so I may take a look at the wound.”
You hesitate…fearing having your Prince see his future Queen in ruins. Blinded and mangled by a mad man’s blade under his own roof. Your soft skin and youthful face no longer unblemished. You wouldn’t survive losing him.
You let out a whimper and sat up straight in what felt like a last fling at life. Eager to try to live despite the circumstances and defiant of needing help after all. At that moment, a familiar hand eases you back down and sighs, “Let us fix what is wrong, my love. Let us have a look. I’m here.” His touch calmed you, as it always did, and you relaxed your posture. He then grabbed your wrist and gently removed your trembling hand from your face, revealing a gash running from temple to jaw.
You could hear Ser Stefon’s armor clank as he took a staggered step back.
A warm tear fall upon your lips, as the Prince kneeled down to kiss your neck.
“Ser Stefon, no one leaves this city until I give the word.”