Sleep evaded Visneya last night. The anxiety had clung to her like a strong sea fog. She had commanded Delaya to take the seeds and hide them where no one may find them; only when Aemond was asleep the following night was she permitted to return with them.

The seeds. The seeds which may bear the news of a blessing and a curse. At a time like this, war knocking at their door, a babe would be the worst thing for them, and yet hope had bloomed in Vusenya's chest for the first time in a year.

Now, as the sun began to rise over the horizon, could Visenya find sleep, if only for a few hours.

Lords and ladies would start gathering in the throne room at midday, and the question of Driftmarks heir and Luke's legitimacy would be brought into question, and her two other brothers aswell, and hers. As the handmaidens began dressing Visenya for the day in a beautiful red and black gown with billowing sleeves that dragged on the floor, did she start questioning whether her own father would be present.

All these years, she debated speaking to Ser Criston Cole, yet she could never find the courage to do so. Never would she tell him the truth, and never would she let the Greens get their hands on that sole piece of information that could tear down her whole family. Now, flying the colours of her house, Visenya felt herself truly looking like the heir to the Iron Throne.

"You look ravishing, my dear," Aemond whispered in Visenya's ear.

She smiled, the only joy of the long walk to the throne room. Visenya could not shake all her anxieties though–Luke, a child, the throne, it all loomed over her like a terrible storm.

"You're troubled," Aemond took both of her hands, making them pause their walk, "tell me."

Visenya did not want to tell Aemond, give him the hope they soon may have a small bundle of joy to hold in their arms. She would not tell him until she could no longer hide it.

"Helaenas dreams, all of them, do you believe them to be true?" She asked, finally meeting his gaze.

He sighed, "I have always taken her prophecies with caution, and yet I find this one hard to lay to rest." Visenya hated that spark of hope in his eyes, "however, this one I can feel it's life, like a small beating heart."

"And if it is wrong? If I never give you children?" Visenya felt her eyes start to burn.

Aemond took her face in his hands. "This marriage may not have been one of our choosing and may have been filled with hate long ago; I choose you, with or without heirs, to carry our legacy long into the future."

A single rouge tear fell down Visenya's face, quickly swept away by Aemond's gentle fingers. "And will you stand with us?"

He nodded, "I will, even if it means Sunfyre would scorch me where I stood."

–––––

"Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds, we gather here with a grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark."

Visenya struggled to stop herself from rolling her eyes at The Hand's words. Stood behind her mother, Aemond at her side, she found herself spinning her Targaryen signet ring on her finger with agitation.

"As Hand, I speak with the King's voice on this and all other matters."

"Cunt." Visenya heard her true father whisper from before them, and she struggled to keep in a laugh. Aemond let a small grin dance on his beautiful pale skin.

"The Crown will now hear the petitions."

Visenya scowled at Otto Hightower, sitting on her grandsire's throne in his steed, her mother's rightful place and her own. She then looked to the Greens; Queen Alicent looked as self-righteous as ever, Helaena trying her best to maintain interest in this stupid matter, Ageon–the whore–looked both bored and drunk at the same time, and Daeron looked ever the protector over his family.

"Ser Vaemond, of House Velaryon," Visenya side-eyed him as he stepped forward, smudged with himself.

Visenya watched as both Daemon and Aemond sized him up–it would be no fair match if either man decided to draw his blood now or once this matter was adjourned.

"My Queen," Ser Vaemond addressed Alicent, "My Lord Hand." All three of them could rot in hell.

"The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms–" six– "to the days of Old Valyria." Here comes his grandeur's speech, which made her want to reach for Dark Sister and remove his head.

"For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas." Visenya looked at Aemond, smiles both on their faces at this nonsense.

"When the Doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind." Visenya looked to Princess Rhaeys, who was smiling. She could not read the princess's expression, which made her all the more worrisome.

"Our forebears came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean an end to their bloodlines and their names." Get on with it, Visenya thought; everyone knows the histories.

Visenya looked at her mother and father, at their small and silent exchange, now placing a bet on not if but when her father would take off Ser Vaemonds head and end this spectacle.

"I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother's seat. I am Lord Corly's closest kin, his own blood." Visenya held her tongue, watching Otto's smug face at Vaemond's words.

"The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins." Visenya sucked in a small breath at those words, holding her breath for when the sword dance of words would end, and the bloodshed would begin.

"As it does in my sons, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon," her mother spoke, keeping her composure, but Visenya could feel the blood of the dragon running hot in her veins, in Visenya's own veins.

"If you cared so much about your house's blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir." Visenya tensed at her mother's words, but the cool fingers of her husband touching her skin eased her.

"No, you only speak for yourself and your ambition."

"You will have a chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra."

Queen Visenya wanted to scream. Her mother is the rightful heir, herself to sit on the throne after her, Jacerys to rule after her if she had no offspring of her own, and Lucerys to take Driftmark. The insult to her family, Visenya could barely stand the heat in the room, making her slick with sweat.

"Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard." Visenya could feel Aemond's gentle flicker of his touch on her, but she was beyond calming.

Ser Vaemond turned to her mother and, seeing his plain featured face turn to them, Visenya began to see red. She knew his next words would strike, and they would land in the court and their hearts.

"What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess?"

She saw how her mother was struggling to keep her composure at the constant insults being thrown at them, how their family were about to become lambs to the slaughter. Visenya carefully touched a hand to the hidden blade beneath her skirts as Aemond gently placed a hand on the pommel of his sword.

"I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn't recognise it." Visenya watched her father rest his hand atop his blade like an executioner waiting for the order.

"This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours." Ser Vaemond's smug smile made Visenya want to cut off his lips and feed them to her dragon, showing him the true nature of real Valyrians.

And then the way he eyed up Luke, both sibling protection and maternal instinct, made her ears roar with fury. A boy barely five and ten, and this old man was sizing up his strength like rival armies.

"My Queen, My Lord Hand. This is a matter of blood, not ambition." Ser Vaemond said, "I place the continuation of the survival of my house and my line above all."

Visenya reached out and placed a comforting hand on Lucerys shoulder, reassuringly smiling at him. He smiled back, though rather tensely, as Ser Vaemond continued.

"I humbly put myself before you as my brother's successor. The Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides."

"Thank you, Ser Vaemond."

And with that, the old man had finally shut his mouth.

"Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for you son, Lucerys Velaryon."

Her mother stepped forward, eyeing up the Queen, and it was Dareon himself who looked upon her husband with distaste that had her almost reaching for her dagger and throwing it at his head.

"If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly twenty years ago, in this very..."

Her mother's words fell as the grand doors to the throne room opened. Everyone turned, Aemond taking Visenya's hand as the court looked at who was now hobbling into the throne room. Her grandsire, the King.

"King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm."

The court was quiet. Otto stood from his place upon the throne, and Visenya watched the shocked faces of Team Green, but especially her mother, as the King made his way not to the throne but to her.

He moved slowly, his old support his cane of wood and bone, and Visenya baulked at the half-golden mask adorning his face. She wanted to cry at the sight of her grandsire, finally an old man who was weary after years of the crown's weight atop his head.

Everyone bowed their heads at his slow approach. The Queen Who Never Was looking down in sorrow at the sight of her cousins, so alive the last time she'd seen him. Only the King did not look at anyone in the room but his daughter. His first and only child with her grandmother and the only child he truly cared for.

The King was panting before the stairs of the Iron Throne, his only words, "I will sit the throne today."

"Your Grace," were Otto's only words at his defeat.

Visenya watched, talking Lucerys hand as their grandsire began the climb up the stairs of swords, refusing help from his Kingsguard, insisting he was fine. The crown fell from his head, crashing on the stairs, and then Daemon was off, rushing to his side.

A silent exchange between the two brothers as Daemon picked up the crown and aided his brother to the throne. Then, Visenya let a small tear run down her face, unbothered by its stain. Then, her father placed the crown on the King's head and rejoined their family at the throne's base. The room was deathly quiet.

"I must...admit...my confusion," her grandsire said between exhausted breaths. "I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession."

"The only one present who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys's wishes is the Princess Rhaenys."

"Indeed, Your Grace." She stepped forward, a woman who held herself like a true Queen, a woman fit for the crown.

Only the princess's footsteps echoed in the silent room; everyone waited in anticipation for what Rhaenys had to say. Visenya squeezed Aemond's hand; he never let go, and then she looked at Luke, who anxiously awaited her words.

"It was ever my husbands will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his true born son Lucerys Velaryon."

Ser Vaemond was fuming, and Visneya wondered if he might start gushing hot water and steam. She could feel Lucerys relax his grip on her hand, as did her own on Aemond's. This matter was solved.

"His mind never changed," her mother looked beside herself with relief at the princess's response, "nor did my support of him."

The Greens, for as much as they tried to hide it, were raging behind their faith that kept ambition and resentment hidden.

"As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire tomarry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys's granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena."

Ser Vaemond would explode any minute now, and Aemond, in preparation, slid his hand back to his sword. Visenya looked to her mother, who was trying and failing to keep her relief and happiness in.

"A proposal to which I heartily agree."

The two boys and girls were sharing smiles with each other, and Visenya had never felt happier for her brothers. Wives of their own in the future and children to love and care for. Visenya found her own hand drifting to her belly, empty until Delya returned later tonight with the news.

"Well..." the King spoke, "the matter is settled. Again."

On the other side of the room, Aegon looked like he was about to burst out laughing. Helaena, could not care less, it was the other three members of that dreadful house that were distraught over their loss.

"I herby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne and the next Lord of the Tides."

Princess Rhaenys walked back to Baela, only for her spot to be filled by Ser Vaemond again. Visenya quickly took Lucerys hand, pulling him back towards her, her other hand slyly reaching for her weapon. Aemond's hand clutched his sword hilt, ready to defend his brothers by law and her if necessary.

"You break law, and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir." Visenya looked on as the Kingsguard slowly moved into a defensive position as Ser Vaemond spoke.

"Yet you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No."

Visenya watched as her father casually looked upon Ser Vaemond, smiling with the knowledge that this man was digging himself to an early grave.

"I will not allow it," Vaemond declared, and her grandsire's face turned cold.

"Allow it?" He questioned, summoning all his strength, "do not forget yourself, Vaemond."

Everyone watched in anticipation as Ser Vaemond's body began to shake with hatred and rage and then burst. "That," he declared, pointing at Luke as Visneya drew him in closer, " is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine."

"Go to your chambers," her mother declared to the lot of them. "You have said enough," she then spoke louder.

"Lucerys is my true-born grandson," the King's temper was waning thin, "And you are no more than a second son of Driftmark."

Ser Vaemond was testing the King's patience, and everyone's in the room.

"You," he forgot who he was speaking to, "may run your house as you see fit, but you will not decide the future of mine."

"My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides," his anger was rising, and Vaemond was losing sight of himself. He stared down Lucerys, "and gods be damned, I will not see it ended on account of this..."

He paused, realising the mistake it would be to utter that accusation in front of the King but her father.

"Say it," he whispered, smiling wickedly.

He looked at Daemon, and everyone in the room held their breath. Then, the look in Vaemond's eye turned to one of insanity as he spoke, turning to her mother.

"Her children are bastards!" He yelled, rattling the room as everyone readied themselves for a fight.

"And she is a whore," he spoke calmly, flatly as he made eye contact with the King.

Visenya yanked her dagger free from her dress, pushing her younger brothers behind her, Aemond pushing her behind him, sword ready to be drawn. The King stood, pulling his Valyrian dagger from his belt.

"I will have your tongue for that."

It a quick flash, so quick one could have missed it, Vaemond's skull was spilt in two, the sound of pure Valaryian steel cutting clean and true. Vaemond's body collapsed to the floor; Aemond drew his own sword as Daemon Targaryen stood there.

Dark Sister was bloodied, Daemon unbothered and calmed; he looked down at Vaemond's corpse, almost gleeful, "he can keep his tongue."

"Disarm him!" Otto Hightower shouted, but Daemon, every the nonchalant one said, 'No need' and wiped the blade clean and walked back towards her.

Daemon smiled at Aemond as he walked past, who looked in awe at his father-by-law. The moment lasted only a second before the King collapsed, groaning, and soon the room panicked again, rushing for the King.

Visenya, watching her mother run to her father, grabbed her younger brothers by the hands and led them from the room, Aemond trailing and keeping his sword unsheathed. She did not let them go before they arrived at the boys' rooms.

She sat the boys down inside the room and asked for a strong wine. The boys drank a full cup, Aemond standing guard by the door, and Visenya dared not touch it.

"Are you both alright?" She asked them once they both had a sweet each to steady themselves.

"Fine," Jace muttered, "you did not need to protect us like that."

Luke was still quiet, staring into the open harth behind her. "You are my brothers, and you will always be younger than me. It is my duty to protect you both," she spoke, voice firm but not loud.

"We do not need to be fussed over. You are the heir, you are the one who needs protecting, Visenya," Jace threw back, taking another mouthful of his second cup.

"And you are my heir, Jacerys!" She yelled at him.

Visenya quickly realised her mistake, Aemond's head snapping over at the outburst. Both boys looked at her in shock. "I'm sorry," Visenya muttered, crouching before Jace.

"Until I have mine own children, you are my heir Jace. Until you have a niece of a nephew I must protect both you and your brother from any harm, but not just as heirs, but my kin. I would not know what to do if I lost you both," she whispered the last part, taking their hands within her.

The Targaryen signet rings on all the sibling's fingers were cold in their hands. Both boys leaned in, and they were all holding each other tightly. "Let us protect you," Luke suddenly spoke; Visenya pulled away.

"You will have children one day, so let us, as your brothers, protect you and your children," he smiled softly, his boyishness not yet gone from his features.

"Until you are a man grown," Aemond spoke, walking over to their conversation, "let her do the protecting."

Aemond ruffled Luke's hair, and Visenya almost wept with joy. "But, it does not mean you're out of training. Come down with me, and we shall all practice," Aemond suggested, and both jumped at the idea.

Soon, Visenya was left alone in the boy's chambers, pressing a firm hand to her belly. She could not wait, she would summon Delaya with the seeds now and brace the oncoming storm herself and her family were soon to face if this supper did not end well. 

–––––

A/N: Please ignore how this hasn't been updated in a long long time. Don't expect frequent updates from this story; it is a passion project and something I do when I find the time. 

I hope you enjoyed this one thought!