ELEVEN YEARS OLD
"Now presenting, Lady Harlys Strong, sole daughter of the passed Lord Hand Lyonel Strong and sole sister of Lord Larys of Harrenhal."
Aemond watched, his still-fresh scar aching, as a girl no older than him entered the throne room. He should not have been surprised; all he had heard since her arrival was announced upon their return from the Red Keep was that Harlys Strong was young, that she carried herself like someone far beyond her years.
But he could not help but watch her every movement. Everything she did was deliberate. From the way she held her chin high to display the necklace of bruises she wore to how she did not even try and look at anyone but his father.
Harlys Strong had a mission, and Aemond wanted to find out what it was.
When she spoke, she had a lovely voice that struck Aemond immediately. High and girly, but also even and sure. Why had her father hidden her away in the Riverlands for so long? Clearly, she would thrive in the court of King's Landing.
He listened to her story carefully, of the tale she told of the fire at Harrenhal, her jump from the third floor, of the tongueless man that had attacked her.
"I wish to remain here, at the Red Keep, where assassins wouldn't dare to attack me under the watch of King Viserys. Make me your ward." She declared, and Aemond felt his heart jump for some unknown reason at the thought.
Aegon, at his side, chuckled at her request. Aemond glared sharply at his brother, already feeling protective of Harlys. Why? He had known of Lyonel Strong's sole daughter for many years, and yet had never cared until he met her.
Until he saw for himself how cunning her mind truly was.
His father granted her wish, and Harlys did not linger as she turned from the room and left. Aemond watched her until he could no longer see her, and even then he stared at the doors she had disappeared through.
No doubt, she was exhausted from her long journey by carriage. And by the state of her bruises, almost as fresh as his, he knew they must still be achingly sore. Did the ones around her neck hurt her each time she drew in a breath? Perhaps he could ask the maester to send something to her that would help—
"Seems like Aemond has found something he likes," Aegon taunted in his ear as the court in the throne room began to go about their business. His brother's words went unheard of by anyone but Aemond and Helaena, and he was glad no one else knew the cause of the blush starting to crawl up his neck. "I can show you the best ways to play with your toys without breaking them."
"Shut up," Aemond snapped. He should have known it would not take long for his brother to say something crude, but his words were downright vile.
"If you want her heart you'll have to break it." Helaena's small voice interrupted as she passed by, most likely off to wander and collect bugs. Aegon groaned, dismissing her words instantly, but Aemond froze. He knew his sister had the odd habit of muttering incoherent babblings, but sometimes they felt like omens.
"She's a Strong," Aegon emphasized and just by the way his brother moved his arms as he spoke, he knew he was deep in his cups. Aemond glared at his brother, but he was undeterred. "You should not wish for her heart. Take our half-sister for example. She knew what parts of a Strong were most important."
Aemond stayed silent, though he disagreed. If their father heard him making such claims, so soon after Viserys' announced that any talk like that would lead to the removal of a tongue, then there would be a price to pay.
And as his scar still ached, he knew he was not willing to give up anything more.
ELEVEN YEARS OLD
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Haven't I Given Enough? (Always The Fool) - Aemond Targaryen
Fanfiction"Careful, Aemond. I might think you care about me." "Be certain that is not the case." His response was quick, and though it was the expected one, she could not help the sting of something unfamiliar that arced through her. "I only caution because I...
