Opposition; Aemond Targaryen

𝓽𝔀𝓮𝓷𝓽𝔂 𝓼𝓲𝔁: 𝓫𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓽𝓻𝓸𝓵

The last time Naerys had seen Daeron Targaryen, he was but a boy. Lanky and awkward, missing many teeth in his shy smile. Daeron had been sent away many years ago to act as a cup bearer for Alicent's cousin, Lord Ormund Hightower, although many rumors circulated back to the ever gossiping keep that Daeron had no love for dragons and spent his time learning from the many maesters in Oldtown, rumors that he had been born with no fire in his blood, although no one but Alicent knew the truth.

Naerys wondered what he'd look like now as she sat perched upon her restless dragon, scanning the soldiers on land that had already breeched Kings Landing in support of her.  The Velaryon fleet docked upon a hidden coast, ready to march when she was.

Cregan Stark had answered her call almost immediately, promising to meet her on the battlefield with his finest soldiers, and he delivered. The solemn stares of brutish men watched her carefully in between glances to their lord. 

This would not be a war, no. This was a siege of a birth right taken, and while the Greens had some supporters, they did not compare to Naerys'. She only hoped Daeron would be meek and offer his throne immediately, as his siblings had. 

"We march for Queen Naerys and her mother's throne that was taken from her. We march for the name of peace!" Aemond shouted from beside her, encouraging the soldiers before them. Battle cries rung out throughout the land, eager hands-on swords.

"There can be no peace without war!" Daemon shouted out as well. Naerys kept her face neutral, no emotion displayed, her gaze remained in front of her, the crown on her head steady as she squared her shoulders.

The men before her were loyal, yes, however they were still men, being led by a woman and she would not let them see her shrink beneath her gaze. 

"On the order of your queen, no one lays a hand on Alicent Hightower nor Daeron Targaryen, unless instructed to do so by my words." Naerys' stern voice called out, her eyes surveying those around her, taking in ideas of who to watch when the time came. 

"Otto Hightower belongs to the king!" Daemon declared, throwing his sword up into the air. The men rallied around them, excitement brewing in their veins. 

"Bring me my throne and I shall reward you plenty!" Naerys shouted, her voice deep and meaningful.

"For the queen!" one of the soldiers yelled.

Then the hundreds of bodies began marching towards the city, to Daeron, to her throne.

Daeron Tagaryen's coronation was a quiet one, no gatherings of common people or lords in search of their next favor earned, just the dowager queen and the once hand of the king, but plenty of kingsguard. 

Daemon returned to the troops after sneaking ahead to find a weak spot, a smirk proudly on his face, a telltale sign he had indeed found what he had been looking for. 

"We go in through the doors, they have many men, but not enough." He boldly spoke to Naerys, who was no longer mounted upon her dragon but now standing between a circle of guards. 

Her fighting leathers clung to her body from sweat, from nerves but the stoic expression on her face remained, "Cregan, you and your ten best men will accompany us inside, Daemon, Aegon, Aemond, and Jacaerys will also accompany us. The rest of your men will secure the building by going around, in case we shall need you." Naerys commanded, her voice softening as she stared the man in the face.

Cregan smiled proudly, more than enthralled to be by his queen's side whilst she took her throne, "It would be my honor." 

Naerys rose an eyebrow, she never understood men and their need for bloodshed, "You'd be honored to walk alongside me as I take you into potential war?" She questioned, not because she did not trust Cregan but because she was curious.