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

20: The Ending

SIX YEARS LATER

"Aenyra Targaryen, come back here!"

Giggles sprouted from the young girl as she raced through the corridors of the Red Keep, her mother struggling to catch her with a hand on her swelling belly.

"Father!" Aenyra called, curls of the darkest chocolate bouncing wildly as she spotted her father training in the courtyard. Stowing his sword immediately, a smile lit up the prince's face as the young girl raced toward him.

Harlys stopped her pursuit as Aemond swept up their daughter, tossing her quickly in the air, if only to hear her laugh once more.

"Do not think that you are saved from trouble just because you found your father," Harlys called, stretching her arms towards Corinne so that she may hand her the youngest Targaryen child. With Lyonel secured on her hip, Harlys stepped onto the courtyard.

Beyond Aemond, their oldest child, Harwin, trained with Jace and Luke using wooden blades. Though it was not as rigorous as the training Aemond put his nephews through following their permanent residence at the Red Keep, Harwin was learning the basics from them.

"What has our sweet girl done now?" Aemond feigned forgiveness, looking conspiratorially at his three year old daughter. Harlys glared at her husband, knowing that he would take the side of his rebellious child no matter the crime. But with the way he held their young daughter close, she found it incredibly hard to stay mad for long.

"She reeks of dragon," Harlys explained, pressing a quick kiss to the top of Lyonel's head. Only a year old, he was the only child so far that possessed the blond coloring of his father's lineage.

"She's a Targaryen," Aemond tried.

"She's three, and we agreed to wait another year until she began her training." Harlys countered, her stare leveled flatly at her husband. He only grinned charmingly as he closed the distance between them, ducking quickly to press a kiss to her swelling stomach. Soon, they would welcome their fourth child.

Harlys had never pictured Aemond as particularly paternal, especially with the forces of the world working against him, but he took to fatherhood incredibly well. Their children were his number one focus, and Harlys begrudgingly took second place.

"Lovely Aenyra may have Strong features," He twirled one of her curls around his finger, glancing adoringly at his daughter who was watching her older brother sword fight over his shoulder. "But she's got Targaryen blood. I dare you to try and keep her from the dragonpit."

"Her mother is the Dragonless Fire-Breather, Aemond. Do not fool yourself into thinking that she gets all her boldness from you." Harlys taunted, giving her husband a sweet kiss before stepping around him.

"Wouldn't dream of it," He grinned. Aenyra squirmed until her father put her down and raced in the direction of Harwin, who was locked in a pretend battle with Helaena's eldest son.

Jace, Luke, and Aemond shouted both praise and corrections at the two children, and Harlys could not help but think of how different it was from the boys' own childhood. She knew of how Criston Cole had pitted the sets of brothers against each other, how uncle was taught to hate nephew.

But as Aenrya sprinted towards the sparring match, Jace swept up the young girl and placed her on his shoulders so that she could better see while staying out of the way. Harlys paused, watching the sight of her nephew with her daughter, and Aemond was at her side in an instant.

"Did you ever think we would get here?" She asked him quietly as Aemond stole Lyonel from her arms and into his. The arm that was not supporting their second son wrapped around her waist, ensuring that all who observed knew exactly who had a claim on her.