THE 7TH MOON [Aemond Targaryen]

Three - Driftmark.

"Father... It's Aunt Laena, isn't it?"

Laenor Velaryon gave the faintest echo of a nod as he heaved out sob after sob beside the grand fireplace in his chamber. His eldest child, his daughter, had arrived at his room, filled with excitement at the idea of telling her father all about the new book one of the grand maesters had given her, but instead she was filled with bereavement at the sight of her dad. She knew only one thing could get him so worked up.

"Tell me of it." She begged him, "Is she alive?"

"No. No, my dear she's not." 

"And what of the baby?"

"Gone too." The man's body was wracked with another spell of sobs.

The girl understood then. What the undoing of her Aunt had done to her father, he'd lost a part of himself, and Laenora knew he'd never get that back. The father she knew was gone.

Silently, she took him into her arms beside the roaring fire, stroking his locks until he was so exhausted that he fell asleep in his child's embrace. She too wanted to cry, wanted to unleash her pain and sorrow upon the world, but Lae knew it was not her loss to mourn, not as much as it was her father's or her great uncle Daemon's, or even her younger siblings. She had to stay strong, she had to prove herself heir.

And so her Aunt's death became her burden to carry.

"Tis okay father." A stray tear rolled down her cheek as she gazed into the burning flames.

"I shall carry the pain for you, it is my cross to bare now."

***

"The Princess Laenora Velaryon, your grace."

Ser Harrold nodded at Rhaenyra as he fled the room, leaving the girl stood before her mother, daylight barely seeping in through her chamber windows as they stood at the foot of dawn. The dragons had barley awoken, and her brothers would still be lay upon their featherbeds, Laenora had never been called to stand before her mother so early before. She knew something was waiting in the lurch for her.

"Mother, what ever is the matter?"

"My sweet love." Rhaenyra bowed her head and it was only then that Lae saw the tears cascading down her pale skin.

"Mother, is it Aunt Laena?"

"No darling, it seems we have lost another."

"Who?"

"Ser Harwin Strong. There was a fire at Harrenhal, both he and Ser Lyonel are dead. Taken by the stranger. Larys Strong shall sit at Harrenhal."

"Why is it you weep for him?"

"For who?"

"Harwin. It is him you weep for. Why?"

Rhaenyra was struck by silence, her throat closed shut, and her eyes closed, feeling the state of disabondement for her happiness fall upon her own body. Her love was gone. The love none of her children had ever known, that none of them would ever begin to know. Especially her daughter.

"Mother tell me this, as my future queen, as your heir. Is Harwin Strong my father? My brothers and I, are we bastards? Is what they say about us true?"

"Darling I-"

"Give me your honesty!" The girl suddenly snapped, taking chaste steps towards her mother who in that moment cowered beneath her fiery gaze. "Is Harwin Strong my father?" 

"It does not matter where you came from Daughter." The future queen suddenly composed herself, standing above her child, "You are my heir, and you shall be Queen one day. Your parentage does not matter. You shall always be a Velaryon, until you ascend the throne."