𝐍𝐨 𝐅𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐅𝐨𝐞 ~ A. Hightower

XXIX

Rhaenyra's anger bubbled as she watched Maekar ascend the throne. After threatening Otto into securing Driftmark for her son, Maekar just had to come along and ruin her plans. She stepped back beside her children and Daemon as they watched Maekar draw Blackfyre from its scabbard and lay it across his lap as he sat on the throne.

Beside her, her children and Daemon stood in silent solidarity, their expressions mirroring her own discontent. The weight of their expectations and ambitions hung heavily in the air, the realisation that their carefully crafted plans were unraveling before their eyes.

As Maekar settled onto the throne, Rhaenyra's gaze fixated on him, her eyes burning with a mixture of resentment and defiance. She couldn't help but recall the last time Maekar had sat upon the throne, a mere child of five namedays old, eagerly trailing after their father, eagerly soaking in the lessons and responsibilities that came with their Targaryen heritage. But now, Maekar was a battle-hardened veteran, a man nearing forty namedays, armed with the infamous Blackfyre, an army of savages and burdened with the task of dealing with his traitorous sister.

A wave of bitterness washed over Rhaenyra as she realised the irony of the situation. She had once been the favored child, groomed to inherit the throne and carry on the Targaryen legacy. But now, her own actions and alliances had cast her as the enemy, a rival to the very power she had once coveted.

In the midst of her anger, Rhaenyra's mind raced, searching for a way to regain control of the situation. But she knew that challenging Maekar now would only lead to further division and bloodshed within their already fractured family. For now, she had no choice but to bide her time, to gather her strength, and to plot her next move with calculated precision.

With a deep breath, she gathered her children and Daemon close. In their united front, they would forge alliances, and seize the opportunity when it presented itself. The Game of Thrones was far from over, and Rhaenyra was determined to emerge victorious.

The Game had just begun, and Rhaenyra was determined to play it to win.

"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," Maekar began, and the murmuring crowd went silence. "As the future King of the Seven Kingdoms, I speak with the King's voice on this and all other matters," Maekar retook his seat on the throne. "The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon."

Alicent held her youngest child close to her as Aegon, Baelon snd Evelyn stood either side of them. Alicent sent a smug smile Rhaenyra's way, and she could see the madness within her sister-in-laws eyes.

"My Prince, my Lord Hand," Ser Vaemond stepped forward from his place beside Princess Rhaenys. "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," said Ser Vaemond, and Maekar leant back on the throne, running his thumb carefully over the jagged edges of the swords. "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."

Ser Vaemond almost looked pleadingly at the future King.

"I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother's seat. I am Lord Corlys's 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 spoke up before Ser Vaemond could continue on. "If you cared so much about your house's blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir."