THE 7TH MOON [Aemond Targaryen]

Two - Her blood.

"My sweet love why is it that you desire to train in combat?"

"I wish to be able to fight my own battles Mother. I do not have a dragon, I do not have the same skills that my brothers do, this is one of the occasions where there may be an exception."

"And Ser Cole has offered to train you?" Rhaenyra swallowed, hard, feeling the bile rise up in the back of her throat.

"Please Mother. Tis all I ask of you. I shall sit the iron throne one day, I will make no queen if I cannot fight."

"Then you may my daughter, but please make no mistake in believing that I'm happy about this, I only wish for you to know to defend yourself."

"I understand mother, thank you."

"Now rest, tomorrow you shall train, but for now you shall dream."

"I love you."

"I love you too my girl."

Silently, Rhaenyra stroked her daughter's hair, laying gentle kisses upon her head as the young girl fell into a peaceful, endless, sleep. She was starting to look more and more like her the older she grew, she had her mother's bone structure, her smile, her laugh, but she did not have her eyes, nor her hair. Those belonged to her father, and her father alone.

"My sweet love what a world I wish I could give to you." Nyra mumbled, laying down beside her eldest, she too began to drift off in her child's warm embrace. "But it is nothing if not a man's world."

And a world your father still graces.

***

"Princess! What it is to see you this fine morning!"

"Good day Ser Cole."

"I wasn't sure we would see you today."

"My Mother gave me her blessing."

"A shock before my very eyes." He told her, fighting every cell within him to not make his distaste clear. "Pick a training sword, when your uncles arrive we shall fit you in armour and get to work."

Laenora couldn't help but practically vibrate with excitement. The day had finally come, her mother no longer saw her as her daughter, finally she saw her as her heir, the heir to the iron throne, one that could wield a sword and fight her brothers and uncles. One worthy of the realm and the seven kingdoms. Perhaps that meant one day she would see her as worthy enough for her own dragon. The possibilities felt endless.

"Laenora." Jacaerys mumbled, slipping his hand into hers. "Are you sure mother is okay with this? I don't want to see you hurt."

"I'm the eldest Jace, I must know to defend not just myself but all of us."

"I just-" the second child tried to speak but was interrupted at the shrill sound of his uncles laughter, echoing across the dampened courtyard.

Laenora rolled her eyes at the sight of her uncles, but none more so than Aegon. She knew he would have something to say about her fighting, she knew he would have some sort of distain for it, but the look on his face made her want to be swallowed up by the earth. He had always been so cruel to her.

"What is she doing here?" He scoffed at the mere sight of his niece.

The young girl stood before him, her head bowed to the ground, and he drank in her appearance as if he never would again. Her body was adorned by a traditional Targaryen black dress, that would just touch the floor if not for her boots that hid beneath. The boots gave her an extra inch or two of height, just enough so that the top of her head climbed to his eyeline, whereas it usually stood just at his lips. He would remember after all.