The Dragons and Their Sun (aemond/oc)

rhaenyra VII

She stood in front of a window in the hall, watching as he took one last glance around the courtyard. He knew her so well that he immediately looked up to where she was standing. He didn't wave. She didn't wave. There were too many eyes for that. Instead, they both poured all of their emotions into their eyes as they bid each other goodbye from afar.

He got atop his horse, and she had to look away, unable to physically watch him leave. She knew this was for the best. The questions regarding her boys reached an all time high. She loved Harwin so much, but she needed her boys safe from judgemental eyes that thought they knew the whole story. Jace and Luke were hers and Laenor's. There was nothing else to discuss. At least, she had wanted it to be that way.

Harwin had approached her the night before to share the news he was leaving for Harrenhal. Lyonel Strong had fallen incredibly ill, and he had apparently wished for Viserys to pardon his son so Harrenhall could have a Lord in the chance that he doesn't make it. Her father being her father, always wanting to keep the peace, granted the wish of his sick hand. Ser Harwin was dismissed shortly after.

She heard footsteps approach her, and she quickly steeled herself before nearly sighing in relief at the sight of her best friend, "I'm sorry."

She shook her head, grabbing his hand for some silent support, "Don't be. This is for the best."

He squeezed her hand, "That doesn't mean it can't hurt."

She nodded, stealing a glance at the now empty courtyard. He was gone. The father of her children was gone. Her love was gone. She was about to turn around when gallops of a horse caught her attention. She and Laenor looked for the sound. When she had discovered the horse making the sound, her fury rose. Not at the horse, but at the rider.

She distantly heard her husband let out a, "What the fuck?" before she turned and marched down the hall. How dare he return? The one who had conspired against her when she was younger. The one who had filled Alicent's head with such vile lies. The one who had forced Alicent to spread those lies to her children. The one who had, for years, manipulated her father. He dared to show his face in her Kingdom?

Her feet carried her to her destination with such a quickness that even the stray feral cats would be jealous of her speed. She threw the doors open, not bothering to know, "Why is he back here?"

Viserys looked up from his model city in shock at the door bursting open before relaxing, seeing it was only his daughter, "Who's here?"

"Otto fucking Hightower. Why is he in our courtyard?" She snapped at her father, feeling only slightly guilty when he winced.

"He was invited," a voice sounded from behind her. Rhaenyra's body tense with annoyance as she turned. Alicent continued, "And, Princess or not, you'll show respect when you speak of the Hand of the King."

Oh, fuck, no. Her eyes narrowed into a glare, "I have plenty of respect for Lord Strong, your grace."

She spit the title like it was a curse, reveling in how Alicent's face fell in anger. Some of Alicent's fake niceness was gone as she answered, "Lord Strong is very sick. The King needs a Hand. My father will be stepping in until Lord Strong is well again."

Rhaenyra scoffed, "Yes, Alicent, I'm sure you're praying long and hard for Lord Strong's return to good health."

She turned her back to Alicent as her former friend opened her mouth to speak, dismissing anything the Queen had to say. She urged her father to reconsider, "Father, surely you remember why he was dismissed in the first place."

Her sickly father sighed, "Rhaenyra, it's been years. We cannot let past arguments cloud the future."

Rhaenyra's voice hardened as she stared at her father but addressed the Queen, "I wish to speak to my father alone."