THE 7TH MOON [Aemond Targaryen]

One - Swordsmanship.

Laenora Velaryon was the only child at her mother's bedside when she gave birth to her youngest brother Joffrey. She had been the first to hold him, just as her father had been her, and she was the first to bathe him of the blood he shared with their mother.

The dark haired girl wrung out the cloth of cotton and gently wiped her siblings skin, ridding him of all evidence of his birth. She quickly dried the young boy off and swaddled him in the same blanket that she had once been. The small boy cried bloody murder, hardly even opening his eyes to greet the world or even his sister for that matter.

"Tis a boy mother." The girl beamed, returning him to Rhaenyra's arms. "You did wonderfully. Ten fingers and ten toes, I counted them myself."

"Thank you for being here my sweet love." Her mother squeezed her hand, "You have always been my strongest child."

"Truly?"

"Truly. No man will ever know what it is to birth a child, that will always be my right, just as it is yours."

"I'm sure the boys would disagree."

"It is just as you say it my dear, they are boys. One day they will be men, and then they shall understand."

"If my right is to birth, then is it not my right to the iron throne mother?" Laenora questioned, laying down at her mothers side.

"Both will always be yours my dear." Rhanyra pulled her eldest into her, "The birthing bed. The iron throne. They both hoist blood, you will find there is little difference."

"Do you think this child will be as wise as you?" The princess questioned, stroking the small boy's curls of brown.

"One of you must be, and I have the utmost certainty it shan't be you or Jace. Luke may have yet to prove himself." The future queen chuckled, kissing both of her children on the head.

"The seven may strike me down if I one day don't have your humour my grace."

"The seven will do no such thing." Rhaenyra's tone dropped any ounce of humour in an instant, and nothing but seriousness masked in velvet remained. "The people have always said us Targaryens are closer to gods than men... and you will always be closer than any of us."

"But am I not a Velaryon?"

Nyra felt her throat tighten, the lump on the inside growing in size, almost to the same extent as her untruths. She knew her daughter could not know what she did, but still her question had made her feel the guilt of a thousand suns.

"You are your fathers daughter." She told her, just as she always would. "That will never change. You are both Velaryon and Targaryen."

"Where is father?"

"A boy!" Laenor suddenly burst through the waiting doors, his daughter was quick to rush into his arms and he spun her swiftly before placing her on the ground and taking his son upon his chest. "Well done."

"Father, he has your nose." Laenora told him, not noticing the way his eyes fluttered to her mother.

"That he does, my sweet love... Were your labours hard dear wife?"

"Not as difficult as they were with Laenora, the birth was an easy one."

"I'm glad to hear of it." The Velaryon spoke, "I come with unfortunate tidings."

"Of what?" Rhaenyra questioned, using the bed posts to pull herself to the edge.

"She wants to see him."

"Who?" Lae asked, tugging on her mother's hand.

"Your grandmother."

"Alicent?" The girl asked, "But you have just given birth, can it not wait?"