ᵈʳᵃᵍᵒⁿ ʰᵉᵃʳᵗ

˖⁺‧₊˚🪽.° ༘

[ return to king's landing ]

𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐟𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐩𝐬.

They often glanced back at you every once in a while to check that they hadn't wondered off too far or fast. Jace smiled at you softly for the umpteenth time as he glanced over his shoulder at you whilst Luke muttered, "Smaller than I remember,"

"It looks exactly the same," Jace denied with a shake of his head. "Oh, Luke, come on."

The boy sighed, and as your betrothed offered you his hand, you returned his smile with your own as you gracefully stepped across the gravel, your shoes sinking into the rock as you looked around the courtyard, Luke trailing beside you as his arm naturally curled around your own. This was nothing unusual, for the boy had found great comfort in your presence.

You knew this was no place for a woman, let alone the future queen, but Rhaenyra had given her son's firm instructions on keeping a close eye on you, and everyone that lingered around you. She knew that the residents of King's Landing knew of your soon-to-be marital status with the heir to the Iron Throne, and by residents, she meant Queen Alicent. 

"My love," you called, causing Jace to turn to you. He took a step closer to you, slightly shielding your body from the ogling soldiers as you continued, "Should we really be here? I'm sure your mother is expecting us..."

"It will only be for a minute or so," he assured, pressing a kiss to your cheek, before he allowed his gaze to sway across the grounds. Jace suddenly took off towards the gateway, pointing at a puncture in the wall with a smile. "See? I told you this would still be here," he exclaimed to his little brother. Luke tilted his head with a slight smile as Jacaerys continued, "And you thought you could swing Criston's morningstar." The brunette walked back to you and Luke as the younger boy observed the table of swords. "And you almost took your own head off."

"Did you now?" you questioned with a chuckle, causing Luke to blush as you ruffled his curls with a good-natured smile.

The boy's grin faded as he allowed his eyes to glance to the side, where he gulped at the sight of a few nobles staring at the brothers with distaste, before whispering to one another. Luke was no fool. He knew exactly what they were gossiping about. 

"What's your problem?" Jace questioned his brother.

"Everyone's staring at us," Luke replied. 

"Hyah!" Jace smiled as he revealed the sword with a playful jab at the air. 

"No one would question me being heir to Driftmark... if... if I looked more like Ser Laenor Velaryon then Ser Harwin Strong."

Your brows furrowed into a saddened frown as your hand made its way to his shoulder, squeezing it softly. Jace placed the sword down with a sigh, before leaning in close to the boy. "It doesn't matter what they think." Luke stared at his brother for a moment, before turning his attention to you, watching as you offered him a tiny smile. "Besides, I am sure they are looking at my beautiful future wife," Jace jested with a smirk, causing your eyes to break away from Luke, squinting into a glare as you smacked Jace's hand away from you, causing the pair of brothers to laugh. 

You and the boys' snickering was cut short due to an abrupt string of grunts and curses coming from the courtyard. Looking over, you found a dozen nobles and soldiers watching what seemed to be a training fight. Jace patted Luke's arm before grabbing your hand in his and pulling you forth. The younger brother followed after you, planting himself beside you as you all stopped near some of the Lords and Ladies. 

"Oh," you gasped, fingers flying to your mouth as the crowd let out a shocked breath due to the fact that the opposing soldier smashed his military flail against the man's shield.

Your eyes followed the movements of the black-clad warrior. His hair was a stark contrast to his uniform, the color being of pure white and falling to the middle of his back. 

The younger soldier tossed the shattered shield away, swinging the sword through his fingers for a moment, before taking swift swings of it against his tanned opponent. His flail fell to the ground, breaking into pieces as they circled one another. 

You were too busy admiring the soldier's movements to notice Luke and Jace turn their heads to one another, eyes widening at the sight of their... uncle. 

"What is it, my love?" you asked Jace, watching as he gulped, missing the fact that the white-haired soldier had won the fight, pointing his sword threateningly against his opponent's chest. The crowd applauded, causing you to look back at the pair. 

"Well done, my prince," you heard the losing soldier congratulate, causing your eyes to widen, making you glance over to Jace, finding him glaring at his uncle, Prince Aemond. "You'll be winning tourneys in no time."

"I don't give a shit about tourneys," Aemond dismissed. "Nephews..." His eye turned towards the brunette siblings on either side of you. "Have you come to train? Maybe to impress your betrothed?"

"Open the gate!" a soldier suddenly shouted, causing you, the brothers, and the rest of the other nobles around you to turn. 

The large double-doors opened with a tired creek, revealing the banners of Driftmark. There, you found Ser Vaemond Velaryon marching through the gates with his soldiers. A smirk flitted across Aemond's lips as he watched alongside you and Jace as the man stared at Lucerys with hooded eyes as he passed. 

You had separated from Jace and Luke as you made your way to your room. Rhaenyra had made sure that your courters were not far from her chambers or Jace's, or anyone of the family for that matter. But since the Queen had yet to meet you, you were put in the guesting wing, whilst the Targaryen family were put in their old rooms. 

You glanced around as you made your way through the dim hallways. The day was dark, the usually pale blue sky shrouded by a wave of clouds rolling in from the North. The clicks sounding from your shoes resonated through the corridor, which was eerily silent. 

"A long way from home, aren't you, byka sōvion? " 

Little butterfly. 

A gasp escaped your lips at the sudden voice echoing through the hallway. You spun around to your side, taking a shaky step back at the sight of a shadowed figure in one of the alcoves of the wall. You couldn't see much, but you could tell he was a man, given his low baritone voice and his lean physique. 

"Didn't your mother ever tell you it's rude to sneak up on unsuspecting girls?" you questioned with a slight tremble in your voice. 

You heard him chuckle, and you felt your ears prick slightly at the sound. "She did, but I think my brother may have ignored her words."

"Pardon me?" you murmured. "Come out. Let me see you."

You could hear no shuffling or movement, but a moment later you watched as the man took a step forward, and your eyes widened as you met the piercing gaze of Aemond Targaryen; your betrothed's uncle. 

The prince chuckled at your flabbergasted reaction, hands weaving behind his back as a smirk curled at the ends of his thin lips. "Not the face I was expecting," he hummed. "Usually, it is an expression of... fear."

He shrugged, and you fixed your posture, squaring your shoulders as your hands found one another at the front of your dress. "I was merely... in a state of shock. I was not expecting to find you here, my prince. Let alone be sneaked up on."

"This is my castle," the prince stated, stepping closer to you. "I don't 'sneak'."

"Then what would you call that?" you wandered with a tilt of your head. "Simply lingering in a dark hallway as a young woman present." You clicked your tongue. "Not the best scenario, don't you think?"

Aemond stared at you, his eye squinting into a glare as he lifted his chin. "It is nice to finally meet the woman set to marry my nephew," he said, moving onto a new subject. "He is... a lucky man."

You blinked at the compliment, finding it strange coming from the prince. Jacaerys had told you the vile stories of his uncle, and how he would mercilessly bully both him and Luke. And you obviously knew of how they came to leave King's Landing. 

Your gaze stayed on the eye-patch covering Aemond's left side of his face, before glancing down and clearing your throat. "Thank you, my prince. It brings me great pleasure to know you approve of this betrothal."

A low laugh left his chest, making you look up again as your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. "As lucky as he may be, I said nothing of my approval. You are merely a woman of court., who has the same status as half of the other nobles here in my kingdom." Aemond walked towards you, his steps slow and suave, causing you to move backwards. But not a moment later, you felt the cold stone press against your back as you raised your gaze to the prince's, who stood directly in front of you, head lowered as he kept contact with your eyes. "What makes you so special?"

Not an hour later, you were avoiding the stare of a certain prince as you moved closer to Jacaerys, who glanced down at you in slight confusion. When you had first entered the hall, you looked quite frazzled. He had asked you if something was wrong, but you had simply shrugged it away, offering him a tight-lipped smile and a kiss to his cheek to calm his nerves. The gesture had worked, but soon, he felt his agitation grow due to both the trial for his little brother's claim to Driftmark, and you, his fiancé who was clearly hiding something from him.

You looked away from Luke, who was practically trembling from beside you towards the King's Hand, and the father of the Queen, Otto Hightower.

"Though it is the great hope of this court That Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark," he stated, his voice echoing throughout the great hall. "As Hand, I speak with the King's voice on this, and all other matters." Otto brushed his cloak behind him, taking a seat on the Iron Throne as he stared out across the gathered nobility. "The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon."

The man glanced towards Luke as he stepped forward, and you felt the boy grasp your hand in his, causing you to place your other hand on his shoulder, keeping a firm yet reassuring grip there as you watched Vaemond stop in front of the steps of the throne.

"My Queen," he started, the woman in emerald merely blinking in response before he looked towards Otto. "My Lord Hand. The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the Doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end to their bloodlines and their name. I have spent my entire like on Driftmark defending my brother's seat. I am Lord Corlys' closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins."

"As it does in my sons, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon," Rhaenyra interjected. "If you cared so much about your house's blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself, and for your own ambition-."

"You will have chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra," Queen Alicent interrupted, causing the white-haired woman to turn her glare towards her as she continued, "Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard."

The man turned around with a smirk, and you glared at the eldest prince, Aegon, who too grinned in malice, enjoying the spectacle in front of him.

"What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess?" Vaemond questioned. "I could cut my veins and show it to you, and you still wouldn't recognize it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours." He glanced at Lucerys once again, before facing the throne. "My Queen, my Lord Hand. This is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of the survival of my house and my line above all."

"Y/N..." you heard Luke mumble.

You glanced down at him, offering him a tight smile as you whispered, "Hush, boy."

He nodded, shuffling closer to you as you raised your gaze. But the Gods were not on your side, for you found yourself making contact with that of Aemond. He was watching you and the family with a beady eye, before his gaze softened slightly as it focused on you.

Unbeknown to you, Jacaerys and his uncle had been glaring at one another, but his confusion was sparked at the sudden gentleness in his mother's brother, turning slightly to find him staring at... you.

"I humbly put myself before you as my brother's successor, the Lord of Driftmark and the Lord of the Tides," Vaemond stated in a low tone.

"Thank you, Ser Vaemond," Otto regarded, the man nodding in gratitude before moving back to his original position. "Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon."

Rhaenyra glanced down at her joined hands, before walking and standing in the spot Vaemond had stood. "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-."

The princess came to a halt at the sound of the hall's doors opening, spinning around in confusion, as you and the others followed.

Your eyes widened at the sight of the hobbling man, his title announced not a moment later, "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 king slowly stepped down the stairs, his soldiers moving at a slow pace as to trail behind him. His breaths were heavy and pained, the sounds resonating from behind his golden half-mask. He glanced towards his wife who looked on with worry, before moving his gaze towards his sweet daughter.

As he staggered up the steps towards the Iron Throne, he turned back to Otto with a labored whisper, "I will sit the throne today."

"Your Grace," the Hand nodded.

With a groan, the king took another step before one of his guards raced forward to stable him. "I will be fine. I will be fine," he assured, but his crown soon fell from his head. "I said I'm fine," Viserys muttered as the crown was picked up from the ground.

Looking back, he found his brother, Daemon, staring down at him. "Come on," he urged softly as the king hummed. Daemon placed his hand on the man's hunched back as he sluggishly climbed the stairs. "Steady."

Viserys fell down on the throne with a breathy groan as his brother placed the golden crown back on his head. The pair gazed at one another, before the younger prince made his way back to his family.

"I must... admit... my confusion," the king said. "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' wishes is the Princess Rhaenys."

"Indeed, Your Grace," the woman spoke up in agreement, glancing at Vaemond and Rhaenyra before walking forward. "It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son... Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her son Luke to one of Lord Corlys' granddaughters, Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree."

Luke looked over his shoulder at the girl, finding her smiling softly at him as he returned it.

"Well... the matter is settled. Again," Viserys sighed. "I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides."

A tiny grin came across your lips as you shared a smile with Rhaenyra, looking down at Luke as you squeezed his shoulder in victory.

"You break law, and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir," Vaemond suddenly spoke up, a scoff escaping his chest. "Yet you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it."

"'Allow it'?" Viserys echoed. "Do not forget yourself, Vaemond."

The man stared at his king, before spinning around to the family and glaring at Luke, pointing to him as he yelled, "That is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine."

"Go to your chambers," Rhaenyra ordered her younger son, before turning back to him. "You have said enough."

"Lucerys is my true-born grandson. And you... are no more than the second son of Driftmark," Viserys stated.

"You... may run your house as you see fit... but you will not decide the future of mine. My house servived the Doom, and a thousand tribulations besides. And Gods be damned... I will not see it ended on the account of this..."

"Say it," Daemon softy demanded with a glint in his eye.

It was silent for a moment as everyone watched the lord think to himself. Slowly, the man turned his gazr towards the princess and her family with a slight smirk. 

"Her children... are bastards!" he shouted. You gasped at the claim, his scream echoing as the other nobles murmured in shock. Jacaerys shook his head glaring at the man, whilst little Luke let out quick, terrified breaths. "And she... is... a whore."

The crowd gasped, and Viserys slowly stood from the throne, breathing heavily as his mouth curled. "I..." The king ripped out his dagger from his robe. "... will have your tongue for that."

An exclaim left your lips as you shut your eyes, feeling the warm hands of Jace pull your body to his, shielding your vision from the scene of Vaemond having his head sliced clean in half by Daemon.

"Don't look," he whispered against your temple, and you nodded, shaking slightly. 

"He can keep his tongue," the prince rasped, hands resting atop his sword as he glanced down at the body.

"Disarm him!"

"No need," he shrugged off as the soldiers pulled out their swords. Daemon wiped the blood from his weapon against the fabric of his clothes as he walked back to Rhaenyra, everyone's attention moving away from the dead body and the Rogue Prince towards their king, who stumbled back onto the Iron Throne with a groan.

"Call the maesters!" Alicent ordered as she ran up towards her husband.

"Father?" Rhaenyra called in worry. 

"Please, my love. You must take something for the pain," the Queen soothed.

"I will not cloud my mind," he murmured as she heaved him into her arms. "I must put things right." The king was moved into the hold of his guards, the men escorting him down the stairs as they rushed to the maester's courters.