THE 7TH MOON [Aemond Targaryen]

Four - Dragonless drunk.

"For fuck sake Aemond!"

Laenora Velaryon cursed into the wind as the tears of her sorrow poured down her cheeks. She had never cursed herself so harshly, so much as she did that day, never felt herself speak such dim words especially to that of her kin. Especially not to her favourite uncle.

She'd never meant to hurt him.

She loved her Uncle Aemond so dearly,  he had always been leagues above Aegon in her eyes and the young boy had always been ever so gentle with her, and yet still that day she was anything but gentle with him. Commanding him around, bringing him to tears, making him feel guilt for wanting a dragon, the same way she did, how could she have been so callous?

She wanted more than anything to go back to Aemond and apologise, to take him to see Vhagar and then sneak to his chamber for one of their talks later that eve but her pride was her enemy and as always she couldn't allow herself to throw it away.

"What have you done?" She whimpered, her cries carried away on Driftmark's winds.

Grains of coarse sand made home in her eyes and her hair whipped her around the face as she ran down the stone staircase towards the beach. She ran as far as she could, until she was out of sight and her legs practically gave way beneath her and the child began to sob, not quite understanding why but only knowing that she needed to. Her small body had never sobbed so hard.

"Laenora is that you?"

"Aemond! I-" she wiped her eyes desperately, only for when she opened them again to be met with the sight of her eldest uncle, peeking around the corner with a bottle of wine in hand.

"Gosh you mustn't compare me to that little twat, seriously."

"He's not a twat." She stood to her feet, looming over Aegon with animosity in her stare. The Targaryen prince had never seen anything quite like it.

"Protecting your husband as always I see."

"What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" He shrugged drunkenly

Laenora studied the thin sheen of stickiness around her uncle's lips, almost for a second too long, and witnessed the way he clutched the glass in his fist, tipping it back as if he'd never be blessed with doing so again. He was drunk once again.

"You're a state Aegon." She told him before finding pews on the same stone steps. His clothed leg brushed against her skirts.

"Forgive me for not being one to enjoy a funeral. It's morbid truly."

"Tis my Aunt you speak of."

"I hate all funerals Laenora." He slurred, rolling his eyes of blue. "Not just your aunt's."

"You must know drink is not the answer to everything uncle. I can hear it in your words and smell it on your breath."

"No god has ever answered to my whims, niece, but wine has never failed me. Perhaps you could use some in a time like this, feigning strength and happiness for your bastard brothers and sham of a father."

"Laenor Velaryon will always be my father." The Raven haired girl hissed, flames licking her every syllable.

The elder watched the tears pool in her eyes once more despite her feigned attempt at anger, and suddenly an unfamiliar feeling crept in, and Aegon found himself in utter fear that she would flee from him too.

"Do you cry for me?" He asked

Before Laenora could even understand what was happening Aegon was suddenly right beside her, his black cape fluttered in the wind and wrapped around her shoulders and his eyes trained on her like the fury of dragon fire. Lae found herself observing him in a way she never had before, seeing the sorrow in his eyes masked by a drunken haze and in that same drunken haze he took her hand up in his grasp, squeezing it tightly as if he may never again.