Alicent Hightower raised a bastard - The Stranger's Child.
Except she didn't.
Naenyra looked nothing like the Targaryen beauty that her father expected. She was, as her mother always wished, a Hightower at heart, and how she looked only proved it...
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The funeral of Laena Velaryon was something of a surprise to Naenyra, her hand clenched within that of her older brother, her eyes captured on those around her.
Velaryon funerals were not like Targaryen ones; they did not involve wide fields and raging fires, nor was it filled with cremation and dragons. The funeral of Laena Velaryon was filled with tradition, and the salty spray of the sea below. Two guards stood on a rock further out, proudly displaying the silver seahorse on a field of blue; three women dressed with their faces covered just beside them.
She could see Laena's uncle, the words falling from his tongue in Valyrian as he spoke of protection for his niece. They were preparing her casket, a heavy thing with her face carved from stone on the top and her seahorse at the bottom. Nyra didn't know if it looked like her, but she could imagine that it didn't. The features were too simplistic or the wood too tricky to carve the real beauty of Laena - but the truth was more likely that the carvers had not seen her, did not know her face to be able to carve it in likeness.
People stood behind them as they watched over the casket, and the Kingsguard standing just behind her as she could feel Rickard hovering just shy of her. They were next to Rhaenys and Corlys, Laena's daughters just beside them. Corlys looked torn as he stood there, his pale hair drawn back but his eyes transfixed on the casket. His wife beside him, her face covered with a thin veil, but her arms easing Rhaena and Baela.
Nyra's own mother and father stood beside her, with Aegon on her mother's side and then Laenor and Rhaenyra with their two sons just shy of them. What had surprised her most of all was to see her Grandsire amongst them, a golden pin on his breast as he stood there proudly.
Lyonel had successfully stepped down as Hand of the King, citing what had happened to the Princess Naenyra had caused great shame to him and as his own punishment, he would return to Harrenhal. Harwin was staying with him for the time being, until the Princess requested his presence. It was safer this way, especially with Rhaenyra having announced she was returning to Dragonstone. It would give the court a chance to gossip before Nyra could reintroduce Ser Harwin.
Naenyra couldn't help but feel like she was betraying her family over her actions, but she had hated the way her father had made her feel, and she refused to feel that way again.
Her eyes swept across the crowd once more before finding the tall figure of her uncle, his hair short and drifting across his shoulders as his eyes remained trained on Rhaenyra. Daemon let out a giggle at the words of Vaemond, all eyes turning to him in surprise. It was lost on Nyra who looked at Aemond, his shoulders shrugging in response.
The rope was tightened, and the casket was moved along the plynth. "To the sea we shall return." Vaemond uttered, and Laena's body was cast to the sea. An audible sob rang out across the rocks, Laenor quickly fisting his mouth as tears gathered in his eyes.
