the ballad of elissa swann (a.t.) (UNDER EDIT)

two

"Lady Elissa," came a voice from behind. Elissa turned, and quickly swept a curtsy when she realized the owner of the voice - Prince Aemond.

"Your grace," she quipped, politely nodding while not meeting his eye.

"Please, walk with me. I have an interest in speaking with you." He said, oustretching an arm for her to take. Hesitantly, she took it, and let him lead her out in the gardens outside Storm's End.

When they were ensconced between hedges, he spoke again. "You have an interesting coloring for a stormland lady."

It wasn't the first time someone had remarked upon it - Elissa had pale blonde hair where her lady grandmother and lord grandfather were both dark of hair, even in their old age - and though she never knew her father in life, Orren Swann was said to have been raven of hair as well. The outlier had always been attributed to her mother - a smallfolk woman she never knew either, who she rationalized must have been blonde to give birth to such a babe. She had her grandmother's eyes - a rich brown flecked with gold - and Lady Swann reminded every person who marveled at Elissa's fair hair of this.

Elissa had been born a bastard, given the surname Storm, but when her mother grew ill within a year of her birth, she presented the babe to the lord and lady of Stonehelm, who claimed they knew her for a Swann as soon as they saw her. Their own son and only child, Orren, had been carried away by the summer fever that year, and the aging couple decided to claim his bastard and give her their name, legitimizing her as their heiress. While not a grand house, she stood to inherit more than many girls her age, and until she wed, it would be hers in name.

Elissa gave a polite, if tired smile. "Surely your grace knows the circumstances of my birth."

"Yes," he nodded. "I recall you were the wild oat of the late Ser Swann."

"Why does my prince inquire?" She followed up.

"It is only - I have embarked on an undertaking of great delicacy." He began, glanced at her with his good eye, and continued, "As I am sure you know, any house has had bastards at one point or another. It has come to my attention, that House Targaryen may yet have some."

She blinked. "And what does this do to concern me? My mother was of the smallfolk."

"I have not been long in the Stormlands, but I have yet to encounter a smallfolk woman with such light, fair hair." he said in a low voice, grasping a free strand of her hair between his fingers. Elissa felt her heart thud in her chest.

She stopped in his path. "Pardon me, but what if it? Even the smallfolk might be promoted to leave and settle elsewhere. I assure you, your grace, my mother was lowborn."

"When is your nameday, Lady Elissa?" he asked pointedly.

"In the winter of 111 after conquest - really, what is it you mean to say?" She answered with mounting exasperation and a blush blooming across her cheeks.

"If you don't mind my saying, my lady, but this was when the Prince Daemon had returned briefly from the stepstones." He said plainly.

Elissa's cheeks burned red. The insinuation wasn't flattering, and to be a bastard was one thing - to be speculated a royal bastard was patronizing. "I do indeed mind!" she hissed. "I know my father. He was a good man, Orren Swann. He died young and my grandparents took me in. I owe my life to them - I will not hear any man speak ill of my kin, be they prince or not!"

"Insult?" Aemond echoed, an eyebrow cocked. "Hardly. Even if bastard-born, Valyrian blood is a valuable asset to any noble lady."

Elissa balled her hands into fists. "And what would you have me do?" she whispered angrily. "Claim to be a Targaryen Princess, with the proof of my hair color? This is absurd, your grace. I am a stormlander, and one day I will be the lady of Stonehelm. My lineage is just that - I am a base born Andal," she drew in a sharp breath, "My prince, my bastard nature has been sneered at me in countless passageways. It has taken most of my life to stomach it without shame. Do not taunt me as such."