𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 - 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐃

𝘼 𝙁𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙎𝙚𝙖𝙩.

Her mouth opens, but he speaks first. "I should've seen at dinner, when you arrived together. How you sat, spoke, looked at eachother."

She sees no reason to lie. "It is about him." The man shakes his head in disbelief. "You don't understand. We've known each other since we were children, and I suddenly see him after so long and it's inexplicable, Cregan. No words in any language could describe how I feel."

"What words describe how you feel for me?"

The princess pauses, unable to form the words that would satisfy him fully. "I love you, I do. Just not in the way we both had hoped."

His eyebrows contort upwards in pure sadness, not an ounce of anger, only pure betrayal written across his face. Just sorrow reflecting from his eyes. "You love him more than me? The way he wants you to?"

Visenya silently nods. "He is to make an announcement today, after court. You are welcome to stay as long as you like."

Cregan stands close to her, focusing on the sound of her nervously heavy breathing as she spoke. "I cannot stay for the festivities." He clears his throat, narrowing his eyes. "I cannot watch you marry anyone else."

"I'm sorry, Cregan."

"I'm glad you've received an advantageous proposal and I wish you the best of luck, princess."

She takes his hand. "Dragonstone is no place for a man of the North, and Winterfell is no place for a dragon-riding Velaryon."

His smile is bittersweet, almost mocking no one but himself. "They say you Targaryens are closer to god than men, and I never really believed such tales until I met you. Until I had the chance to love you."

"You will find better."

"I doubt it."

"A young maiden, in love with the cold as much as she loves you."

"I love you."

Visenya reaches up to wrap her arms around his neck, pulling him into a hug. "I wish nothing less than perfect happiness for you, my lord."

⚔

"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. As Hand, I speak with the King's voice on this and all other matters." Otto sits himself on the Iron Throne. "The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon."

Aemond doesn't stand on any specific side of the room unlike the opposition of his fiancee and his family, he just stands in the background, avoiding address as Vaemond spoke. "My Queen. 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 life 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 and daughter, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon. 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 have will chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra. Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard."

Vaemond smirks at this favour. "What do you know of Velaryon blood, princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you, and you still wouldn't recognise it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours." He turns back to face 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. I humbly put myself before you as my brother's successor. The Lord of Driftmark, and Lord of the Tides."