Haven't I Given Enough? (Always The Fool) - Aemond Targaryen

18: Lady Harlys Strong of Harrenhal

The coronation was held at the Red Keep two days later.

Rhaenyra had requested that Harlys be the one to officially crown her, since she had been the one to return her to power.

Harlys, after placing the crown on her queen's head, returned to stand at the side of Jacaerys. Across from her stood the remaining Greens; Alicent, Aegon, Helaena, and Aemond.

She hadn't spoken to her husband since he had wiped the blood of his grandsire off her face following Aegon stepping down. Since he had pulled her aside and assured her that every action she took had been necessary, had held her shaking hands as she stared without seeing.

But that didn't mean she hadn't thought of him. Despite the chaos of organizing the coronation and securing support for Rhaenyra, not once had Aemond ever been far from her mind.

She loved him, that much had been made very clear to herself, but she could not look at him without feeling the sting of betrayal. Every interaction, every gentle touch or kiss shared between them was tainted with the knowledge that Aemond had known the entire time and chose not to share with her the information she wanted most.

Jace placed a hand on her arm and startled her from her thoughts. Distracted, she had missed the final stages of the coronation and Rhaenyra's declaration that the feast was to begin.

"Would you care to dance, Lady Harlys?" Jace asked as the music around them started jovially. She smiled faintly at him; from her time at Dragonstone and in the days since his return to the Keep she had grown quite fond of her nephews.

"I would be honored, prince, but I have other business I must attend to." Harlys replied, already turning to slip silently through the crowd.

She caught Rhaenyra's eye as she was halfway through the crowd to the door, and bowed her head slightly to her queen in a way of parting.

She knew Aemond's eye tracked her every movement, but she did not let herself glance at him.

Having lost Ser Darvyn in the crowd, Harlys was able to slip silently from the throne room and into the corridors without much fuss. Her steps were quiet, measured, every footfall intentional.

The dungeons were as dark and damp as she remembered, but she no longer feared the cold. She had put off this meeting for long enough.

"I was wondering if I could expect you,"

"I wanted to see my queen properly crowned before I visited the filth under the Keep," Harlys called, stopping outside the cell that contained her brother. Within minutes of securing the Keep, Harlys had ordered Ser Darvyn to find Larys and throw him into the darkest cell he could find.

"I underestimated you, sister," He replied, studying her in the dim light granted by the torch she held. A pulse of anger shot through her at his words; the title of sister meant nothing to her if it was to a kinslayer such as him.

"Several made that mistake. You're one of the only that still live." She replied, keeping her chin high despite the nausea she felt at the memory of murdering Criston, of beheading Otto. But she did not regret it, not in the slightest.

"And how does that power feel?" Larys grinned, but Harlys did not take the bait.

"When your execution comes, I will not bear witness." She told him, moving closer to the bars, the pillars of iron being the only things stopping her from seeking vengeance with her own two hands. It had been difficult not to do so the moment she had arrived at King's Landing from Dragonstone, but she would not let him further ruin her life.

"Will your prince be there?" Larys leaned his head back against the stone, knowing his words hit their mark. She knew he was cunning, had prepared for it, but Aemond had always been able to knock her off her feet, even by only being mentioned in conversation. "I tried to wed you off when you were five and ten, you know."