𝐒𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞 - 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐃

𝘼 𝙁𝙞𝙩𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙎𝙚𝙖𝙩.

"It has taken me far too long." She doesn't look at him. "I love you."

He smiles, not a smirk, a real smile with the corners of his lips tugging upwards greatly. Aemond takes her face into his hands, she is now forced to stare upon the skin of his face, one eye travelling its gaze across her face. "Visenya. My dear Visenya." He whispers.

Without a care, she joins their lips in an old and less popular corridor of the Red Keep. 

The prince holds her with such conviction, his arm snaked around her waist, kissing her as if she were oxygen and he was regaining breath after being deprived for so long. "I don't want you to wait for me any longer." She tells him, a silent request, a plea he couldn't deny.

⚔

"Beautiful."

She slips her arms into the sleeves of her dress, hiding her face from his compliment. "Could you lace up the back of my gown?" 

He closes his eyes in serenity at the sound of High Valyrian rolling off her tongue before swinging his legs off the bed to do as she requested. Moving platinum blonde hair to the side over her shoulder, Aemond works at the lace backing of her garment. 

Standing once the dress was nearly tightened, the slightest bit of skin at her nape exposed, he pressed a long kiss to it. Visenya leans back into his touch, the back of her head hitting his bare chest. "I want you to marry me. I want you to marry me today."

Chuckling at his revelation, she sighs. "That's a difficult request, Aemond."

"Father has requested us all to dine together, we shall marry then. To celebrate your inheritance, and our love." 

She turned to face him, hands trailing his shoulders. "And when do you suggest we announce this proposition?"

"At court, today. After you rid King's Landing of Cregan Stark."

The girl cocks her head. "I will," She took in a deep breath. "end our engagement. The decision of whether or not to leave is up to him."

Aemond nods. "My wife, my life." He grins. "Come on, you have places to be."

Pecking Visenya's cheek, he follows by laying a comforting kiss on her forehead.

⚔

The guilt has settled into her bones by the time she reaches his chambers, heartbeat accelerating with each knock that occurred. She swears she hears her father's chuckle echo, the touch of his hand settling on her shoulder to reassure her.

"Visenya, it's so early, darling." 

She smiles somewhat awkwardly. "Sorry for the interruption."

"No need to apologise. What has happened?"

The girl pushes past him and into his room. "The world is a very, very amusing place. But it's also difficult, and confusing." He raises a brow at her words. "You deserve a lady who can fulfill her commitments to the North."

Cregan took a step toward her. "Yes, you."

With teary eyes, Visenya pursed her lips. "No, Cregan. Seven hells." She sniffled. "I can't. I cannot prioritise Winterfell over Dragonstone, Driftmark, over my own father's legacy."

"You make little sense." A shadow falls over his eyes, a certain darkness of realisation, he steps back. "This is not about your priorities. This is about him."

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."

"Thank you, Ser Vaemond. Princess Rhaenyra, will the Princess Visenya Velaryon speak for herself, or you on her behalf?"

Rhaenyra looks at the back of her daughter's head as she steps forward slightly. "I speak for myself." She tells. "I would like to remind the court, that nearly twenty-"

The doors open, a loud bang comes with it. "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."

Viserys trudges down the hall, each person bowing their head in sheer respect and admiration as he attempts to walk along. Toward the throne there were many expressions, some of fear, some of confusion and triumph, Otto is quick to vacate the seat.

The King pauses at the steps of the Iron Throne. "I will sit the throne today."

"Your Grace."

The elder continues to grunt, the sound of his walking stick hitting the stone step accompanying him as he rejected support from any other. His head tipped over in exhaustion, the golden crown slips off the skin of his balding scalp and hits the ground with a harsh clang. "I said I'm fine." Viserys repeats, not so rigid when he sees the headpiece in the hands of his brother.

"Come on, steady."

He eventually plants himself onto the throne with a final groan, Daemon placing the crown back onto the head of its rightful owner. "I must admit my confusion, 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."

All eyes are on the mentioned woman. "Indeed, your Grace." She takes Visenya's place before him. "It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his trueborn daughter, Visenya Velaryon. In the event that Visenya is married and unable to return to rule, it would pass to 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 sons, Jace and Luke, to Lord Corlys' granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree."

"Well, the matter is settled. Again. I hereby reaffirm Princess Visenya of house Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood throne, and the next Lady of the Tides."

Vaemond isn't too pleased with this justice. "You break law and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No, I will not allow it."

Viserys sighs, tired. "Allow it? Do not forget yourself, Vaemond."

The former was heaving, pointing an angry finger specifically at Lucerys. "That is no true Velaryon, and certainly no niece or nephew of mine!"

"Go to your chambers, you have said enough." Rhaenyra interferes. 

"Lucerys and Visenya are my trueborn grandchildren, and you are no more than the second son of Driftmark."

"You 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! And gods be damned, I will not see it ended on the account of this-" Vaemond cuts himself off.

Daemon only smirks, a hand on the handle of his sword. "Say it."

A sly smile makes its way to his lips. "Her children are bastards! And she is a whore."

Series of gasps and reactions run throughout the crowd while Viserys stands. "I will have your tongue for that."

It's a swift movement of a sword, Vaemond's head had seemingly fallen off his body, the rest of him falling afterwards with a proud prince behind. "Anyone who dares keep the name of my future wife in their mouth with foul taste can keep their filthy tongue." Aemond cleans off his blade, winking to the princess who has her mouth agape.

Viserys let out a string of pained moans, eliciting the attention of his wife and maesters, soon to be taken away for treatment.

"What is this talk of a future wife, Aemond?" Alicent demands. Cregan slips out of the grand room, forgotten.

He makes his way over to her, taking Visenya's hand. "Visenya and I are to be married. Today, before supper."

The parents of the betrothed are wide-eyed with what seemed to be fury, while the siblings remain justly confused. Daemon takes her by the arm. "And what of your engagement to Cregan Stark?"

"Engagement to Cregan Stark?" The Queen shrieks.

Visenya pulls her arm back, shifting to be beside Aemond. "It has been dissolved."

A majority of the worried look to Rhaenyra, who'd remained quiet up until now. "It is evident that you both have put very little thought into this arrangement," Her voice wavers ever so slightly. "it has been years since you saw each other last. Where are you to live after this wedding? How are you going to be taken care of?"

"My son is perfectly capable to care for your daughter, Princess Rhaenyra." Alicent seeths with a pointed look. 

"Enough," Visenya says, her voice edging away from its softness, sharp. "I am able to care for myself, even moreso with Aemond by my side. How could King's Landing ever reject such a prosperous match?"

She looks to Daemon to find him already staring into the glossiness of her eyes, the ends of his eyebrows lower slightly, softening. "Please, papa." Her plead is quiet, it is begging, almost.

The group is now silent, no one objects or retorts, Daemon is the decided one to break the silence. "It's decided then." He sighs with a tense jaw. "We are to have a wedding today."

The couple both smiling, their joined hands brought to be kissed by Aemond's lips as their surrounding family struggle to find thrill in the joyous occasion.