THE 7TH MOON [Aemond Targaryen]

Eight - The First Dance.

"Aemond. Say something."

She begged him, pleaded with him, surrendered her soul for his before the seven, and still he turned from her, his head bowed.

"Do something!" She cried out

The one-eyed prince sat, steadfast beneath her iron muzzle.

Nothing.

How could he expect her to marry him and still do nothing to defend her?

The Velaryon had had it, and in an instant she moved to stand to her feet, ready to throw every morsel of food to the ground, scream at her family and to make her grand exit, but something stopped her.

A hand.

Aegon's hand was upon her own in an instant, squeezing it the way he hadn't since they were children. His touch was familiar yet confusing and destroyed her plans in an instant, his skin a mosaic of her past. She dared not to look at him, and instead her eyes fell upon her knife, wondering how many of her family she could take out at once with the instrument.

"It both gallants, and fills my heart with sorrow to see these faces around the table." Viserys stood, his body almost crumbling beneath him. "The faces most dear to me in all the world, yet grown so distant from each other in years past."

The dying king's eye stole upon his granddaughter as his golden mask fell to the table with a clatter. Lae felt sick at the sight of him, and yet guilted into a corner, her reaction unjustified and marrying her uncle seemingly not so bad. Her mother's response to her marriage suddenly felt justified.

Guilt in its most unadulterated form.

"Tonight I wish for you to see me as I am. Not as your king, but as your father, your brother, your husband, your Grandsire. Who may not seem to walk for much longer among you."

"Let us no longer hold ill feelings in our hearts. The crown can no longer be upheld if the house of the dragon is divided. Set aside your grievances, if not for the crown then for the sake of this old man! Who loves you all so dearly!"

"I toast for the queen." Laenora's mother stood in a heartbeat, speaking for the queen she claimed to hate. "I love my father but I must say no one has stood so loyally by his side as his lady wife. For that she has my gratitude and my apology."

"Your graciousness moves me deeply Princess. We are both mothers and we love our children, we have more in common than we sometimes allow. I raise my cup to you and your house. You will make a fine queen."

Jacaerys was next to stand, following in his mothers footsteps the way he always had. He clutched his goblet tightly in his fist as his saddened eyes fell upon his sister like an infection.

"To Prince Aegon and Prince Aemond, we haven't seen each other in years but I have fond memories of our shared youth and as men I hope we may yet be friends and allies. To your marriages, and your families health dear uncles." He slapped a hand upon Aegon's shoulder roughly before seating himself once more.

"To you aswell." The fair prince mumbled.

"I would like to toast Baela, Rhaena, and my dearest niece Laenora! They will be married soon. It isn't so bad... mostly he just ignores you, except sometimes when he's drunk!"

The weight of Helaena's words felt heavy upon Laenora's shoulders and even heavier when she witnessed Aemond's eye flicker between his brother and his betrothed. It was almost as if they knew of the wrongdoing being committed beneath the table, guilt seeped in like a blinding light, guilt for an aunt she dearly loved, and guilt for a betrothed she no longer knew, and in an instant she dropped Aegon's hand, turning from him just as Aemond had turned from her. Despite the loss of his hand she could still feel his eyes at the side of her head, yearning.