"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.

A deep red cloak plumed from the tips of her shoulders, and he took note of the way it trailed across the dirt. He remembered it as the one she always wore, he knew it to be so as it gave him a headache to even look at. Everything about her gave him a headache. What kind of swordsman would wear a dress and a bloody cloak to a battle?

"The princess is here to train just as you are." Criston narrowed his eyes, his palm suddenly pressed against the girl's upper back. "Pick up a sword my prince. You shall be training with her today."

"But I don't know anything-" Lae tried to reason with the guardsmen but he was quick to dismiss her.

"Prince Aegon is a fine swordsman, he shall be an example to you. Besides, of course you have read enough to know some technique my girl?"

"Some technique." She agreed

"Then put that big brain of yours to good use." Cole smiled, tapping the side of her head ever so gently, "That is something that Aegon cannot."

Quietly the Velaryon nodded and tightened the wooden blade in her fist, it felt heavy and somewhat unbalanced in her hand, she knew it would take some getting used to but she didn't allow herself that time before she raised her sword in defence against Aegon, pushing his blade away from her as he'd struck from behind.

"What kind of knight wears a dress to a battle?" He jeered, forcing the blade closer to his niece.

"What kind of knight draws his blade when a woman has her back turned?" She parried, forcing him back.

"One with skill." He smirked

"One that has no cock perhaps?" She sneered

Before Laenora was even able to defend herself once more, Aegon had struck. He pushed his blade against her belly, knocking her to the ground. He climbed on top of her small frame, pinning her beneath him, pushing the wood further and further against her skin until she felt the breath leave her lungs. Her head suddenly became dizzy and black dots appeared in her vision, willing her to meet the stranger; that was until her brother threw himself atop of Aegon's back.

"Let go of her!"

"Get off of me!" The eldest Targaryen threw Jace to the floor effortlessly, letting out a cruel laugh at the sight of the two heirs lay in the dirt. "The heir to the iron throne, and the heir to driftmark. Perhaps the dirt is where you belong bastard-"

"Ser Criston!"

No one had noticed the way Criston had clutched the handle of his sword that morning, the way he was unhesitant in drawing it upon the prince. No one except for Ser Harwin Strong that was, who's blood boiled at the sight of his children in the dirt, quivering with fear and indignity, all the while Criston stood over them.

"Perhaps if you paid the same level of attention to each of your students then these quarrels may not happen. Tell me why is the Princess not in armour?"

"Prince Aegon drew on her before we were able to get her properly fitted."

"And the Prince Jacaerys. Why must he separate his sister and his uncle if you are here?"

"Are you questioning the way I teach my pupils?"

"I'm merely holding a mirror to your mistakes." Harwin snarled

"Here niece." Aemond whispered, placing an arm beneath Lae's shoulders and lifting her to her feet, his touch lingered ever so slightly. "My brother does not understand his own strengths."

"It's because I'm a girl isn't it?" Tears burned her eyes.

He quickly took her hand, "It's because you're heir. Don't give him the satisfaction of seeing your tears."

"Sister are you hurt?" Jace pulled at her free hand, all the while Lucerys nestled in beneath her arm, separating her grip from Aemond.

"She's okay." The Targaryen boy nodded, watching the way the tears in her eyes dissipated with the seconds.

"Thank you."

Aemond's cheeks suddenly burned red with dragon fire at the way his niece mouthed those two simple words to him, she was much closer in maturity to his brother, despite being a year younger than himself, but a part of him had always hoped that his mother would betroth them the same way she had Aegon and Helaena. His soft spot for her was never waning, Aegon knew this.

"You realise she's a bastard do you not?"

"She's our niece."

"Hardly."

"The blood of the dragon runs through her veins just as it does ours, tell me, on the inside are you and her any different?"

Aegon would ponder that question for many years to come.

"I believe you owe the young Prince and Princess an apology Ser Cole."

"I cannot apologise for the irresponsible actions of Prince Aegon. I wish the Princess good health but I will not apologise for Prince Jacaerys involving himself where it was not his place to do so."

"What is your grievance against the Prince?"

"You defend them fiercely Ser Harwin, the way one might defend a brother, or a cousin... or even a son."

The Velaryon girl would never forget the sight she saw that day until the day she died, the way Ser Harwin didn't stop. Landing punch after punch, until Ser Criston's face was torn and bloodied, even his training armour splattered with blood. She'd remember the crack his jaw had made, echoing across the castle yard. And the way Ser Criston's eyes found hers through tears of red.

"Ser Harwin please!" She'd begged before Aegon of all suddenly pulled her against him, forcing her head into the crook of his neck. Darkness became of her.

"This is no sight for a princess." He'd whispered

***

"The Prince Aegon Targaryen, Princess."

"The hour is late uncle." The door slammed shut behind him, "What brings you to my chambers at such a time? My
Mother would not be well pleased to learn of us being alone in here."

Laenora did not move at the sight of her uncle, she did not lift her head, nor roll to face his way, instead the girl remained buried beneath her sheets, shrouding herself from her own blood. If she could even call him that.

"I came to check on you. What you saw today must have taken a toll."

"If I wanted to talk to one of my uncles about what I saw today I would have found Aemond. You and I both know that all too well."

"But you have been playing on my mind dear niece."

The older boy moved to sit at the edge of her bed, his hand slowly pulled the sheets back, exposing her to the cold. Lae shivered and Aegon noticed the goosebumps arise across the back of her hands. He quickly took them in his own, warming them. Averting his eyes from the sight of her night shift that had lay encapsulated in darkness only moments before.

"Tell me, why is it you're really here?" She sat up, her brown eyes glowered into his ones of blue.

"I've come to gift you with an apology."

"And are you here of your own accordance, or on the account of my Grandsire?"

"My mother sent me to apologise."

"Then your mother is as much of a cunt as you are if she thinks I'll accept a second hand apology." She moved to stand in front of her window, watching the dragons flee the dragon pit beneath the moon. "You may leave now."

"And what would I know of being a cunt that you do not know of being a bastard?" He snapped. Aegon could never hide his true colours for long, the Princess hated that most about him. His cruelty knew no bounds, especially so when it came to her.

"I am not a bastard! I am the heir to the iron throne!"

"And no horror it is of mine to know that one day I could easily sit the iron throne upon the disallowance of your birth right, Princess. And your whore mother's." 

"There's a place in hell for you Aegon. One that I can assure you of."

The room sat silently for what stretched into an eternity, that was until Laenora felt her uncle's breath across the back of her neck and his hands pressed into the boards of her window, pinning her once more.

"Perhaps once I sit the iron throne my mother will betroth me to you instead. How would that sound Princess, to be my Queen? Nothing short of a life well lived, heir to heir."

"You're betrothed to your very own sister and my aunt do not forget. Besides, I would rather die by dragon fire."

"I am sure Sunfyre can arrange that, there's no dragon of yours that could do the same." He smirked once more, his breath fanned across her forehead this time, arising goosebumps, without her boots she could hardly reach his eyeline, much less his lips. "We'd have to find you one first, perhaps Aemond's pink dread could be of service? After all it is him my father speaks of betrothing you to."

"Fucking cunt!" The Velaryon girl finally snapped, shoving her uncle with such force that he stumbled across the room until his back slammed against her dresser with a sickening thud. But the princess was not yet finished.

Before Aegon could even move to stand to his own two feet Laenora lay a harsh slap across his jaw, leaving his skin pink and stinging. A final moment of silence was exchanged, filled with Lae's harsh betrayal and her elated breathing; Aegon moved towards her chamber door without another word.

"Come back!" She'd pleaded with him, "Come back here and fight me like the man you claim to be!"

But Aegon no longer cared for her tribulations, instead he pulled the chamber door shut behind himself but not without one final remark of his sharp tongue,

"Perhaps there is fire in your blood after all, my dear niece."

Aemond Targaryen let out a heavy sigh from where he hid shrouded in shadows by the door of the Princess's bed chamber. He watched the way his brother fled the scene of his crime and he listened to his niece's sobs echo through the stone walls, wishing nothing more than to have a dragon of his own so he could burn his kin to dust.

He thought of the way Laenora had defended him and their future betrothal and shunned that of Aegon's; and the boy felt a cursed grin descend upon his lips. He had always been the second son of house Hightower, second best to Aegon, hiding beneath the cloak of the drunken heir's shadow, but in that moment he'd never known such triumph.

"Princess." He whispered softly as his knuckles wrapped upon her door. "Princess."

"I wish not to talk to you Aegon!" She bellowed through the wood.

Aemond paid no mind to her resentment and instead twisted the handle of her bedchamber and stepped foot inside. He witnessed the way Laenora quickly jumped to her feet ready to lay another blow upon him as if he were his brother but instead something within her changed, and her face softened ever so completely.

"Aemond." She rubbed her eyes, ridding herself of her woes. "You shouldn't be awake at such an hour."

"Nor should you be crying princess. Tell me, what is it of my brother that has left you in such a state?"

"Tis nothing uncle. Go back to bed, I shall do the same."

"You may see me as a child Laenora but I must tell you that I am not one. If he has harmed you- well then I shall ensure his debt is paid in full."

"Aemond."

The younger girl smiled sweetly upon her uncle, taking gentle steps towards him before her palm found home against his jaw. Aemond relished in the way her skin felt against his, dragon to dragon, he'd never known such a kind touch. The young Prince knew in that moment that if Aegon had always held a candle for their niece, then he would always hold dragon fire for her.

"You have always been the sweetest amongst your Hightower kin. But I do not need you to fight my battles for me."

"You may not want me to fight your battles but I'm not much unlike you niece, I'm a Targaryen just as you are." He told her, his hand grasped hers, and intertwined they fell between them.

"I'm a Velaryon, Aemond." Laenora sighed, "I am a product of my father, and you are a Hightower, just as you are a product of your mother."

"And yet our blood runs the same."

Suddenly she relinquished his grip, parting ways like two ships across her grandfather's tides and the child took a seat upon her bed, motioning for her uncle to do just the same.

"Your brother knows nothing but my torment." She told him, "To care and to then tread me beneath his shoe. To ask me to wife and then call me a bastard."

"Would you care to be his wife princess?"

"Not when he is betrothed to another. And not when I could marry any other man in the kingdom." She chuckled and Aemond felt his heart pound in his chest.

"I should never wish such unluck upon you." He too chuckled and the pair beamed upon one another once more. "Well... The hour is late dear niece. I shall allow you to rest and see you on the morrow."

"Goodnight uncle." Her smile faded

"Good night niece." And with that Laenora's chamber door slammed shut for the final time that eve.

"Yet our blood runs the same..." Aemond whispered into the darkness, fleeing.

"Our blood runs the same."