AEMMA WAS RIGHT. AEGON had came to her chambers, practically begging for her to allow him to spend the night in her bed. There was no need to beg, Aemma truly would've just let him stay without any qualms, but she found it quite amusing to watch him on his knees.
As what Aemma had expected, she and him and ended up back in each other's arms. Now, Aemma sat propped up onto pillows, extravagant covers covering her bare chest. Aegon's head rested upon it, Aemma's slender hand gently running through his pale hair. They spoke little to each other, in the morning that is. So she said nothing, no attempt to stir him awake.
Slowly, Aemma rose from the bed, Aegon barely moving but to adjust himself now that he was not dead up against Aemma.
The cold air hit Aemma's bare skin, causing goosebumps to form on her skin and sending shivers down her spine. Her night gown was strewn on the ground, shedded after heated kisses between her and Aegon.
Aemma let out a sigh of relief when the linen shift covered her body, bringing some relief to the body that was shivering from the cool air in the Keep. There was much to be done, that Aemma knew. She didn't need a lady in waiting or her step mother to remind her of that.
What Aemma was not excited for was dress fittings.
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Aemma was saved from dress fittings for a while, thank the seven, but now she stood in the throne room.
"Though it is the great hope of the court that Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds," Otto projected across the court as he stood in front of the iron throne. "We gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark, and as hand, I speak with the King's voice on this and all other matters."
There were lines of people in the throne room, with them being split down the middle. One side with Rhaenyra's family, and the other with Alicent's. Aemma would glance over from time to time. She couldn't not discern whether the pit in her stomach was nervousness of what was to come or simply the presence of Rhaenyra.
Slowly, Otto descended himself upon the iron throne. "The crown will now hear petitions. Lord Vaemond."
The man stood before the iron throne, pale white hair evident against the dark brown hair of Jacaerys and Lucerys Velaryon.
"My Queen, my Lord Hand." Vaemond offered a nod to both Alicent and Otto. "The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria." He started.
Aemma could feel herself starting to get tired. Vaemond argued for his inheritance rather than her nephew Lucerys's. It was not that she didn't think him right in this, yet Aemma was not foolish enough to bring it up in front of the boy's mother herself.
"Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end to their bloodlines and their name." As Vaemond spoke, glances were shot towards Rhaenyra.
Everyone knew what he was saying, yet no one was foolish enough to speak of it in front of the princess.
"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 interjected, seeming as if she was holding back an eye roll. "If you cared so much about your house's blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. Yet you speak only for your own ambition."
A hand on her stomach, Rhaenyra grimaced as she spoke, glancing around to the people around her.
"You will have chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra," Otto spoke from the throne. "Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard."
Vaemond's lips were pulled into a thin line as he turned to face Rhaenyra. "What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess?" He questioned, the thin line turning into a smile. "I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn't recognize it. Should I slit the wrist of my daughter, Lady Alysanne, and show you twice what Velaryon blood looks like?"
Aemma moved a hand to cover her mouth. The Lady Alysanne was what a Velaryon was, as true as Laenor and Laena. She looked almost exactly like her father, but with the platinum hair of her Rogare mother.
The look on Rhaenyra's face when he offered that was what truly got Aemma, though. As if it was some insult to her to try and insinuate that the children of Harwin Strong and Rhaenyra Targaryen were not Velaryons.
When he was done speaking to the princess, he then turned to Otto. "My Queen, my Lord Hand, this is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the survival of my house and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother's successor."
Vaemond bowed to both Alicent and Otto before backing up, allowing a place for Rhaenyra.
"Thank you, Ser Vaemond. Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon," Otto said, his eyes looking between the brown haired boy and his mother.
A sigh escaped Rhaenyra, stepping forward to present her claim.
"If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly 20 years ago, in this very—"
"—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 room went dead silent, watching as the ailing king struggled his way through the throne room.
"I will sit the throne today." Viserys said, looking to Otto, who immediately rose from the throne.
"Father!" Aemma couldn't tell if it was her or Rhaenyra that spoke first, though it was only Aemma who went to her father's aid.
"No, no my love," Viserys choked out. "I am quite alright," He let out a huff, gently moving his arm away from his daughter's grasp and continuing to make his way towards the throne.
Though once Aemma moved back to stand with her husband and half siblings, he stumbled. This time, it was his brother who came to his aid.
Daemon, holding onto his arm and allowing Viserys to lean on him, slowly stepping up to the throne.
"Thank you, brother," Viserys sighed, breathing heavily as he looked between his eldest daughter and his other children.
"I must... admit confusion," Viserys slowed his breathing, trying to steady himself in his seat. "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's wishes is the Princess Rhaenys."
The Princess Rhaenys stood tall next to her granddaughter, a slight smile coming upon her face at the mention of her closeness to the Lord Corlys.
"Indeed, Your Grace," Rhaenys spoke as she stepped towards the middle of the room, hands folded in front of her. "It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his true born son... Lucerys Velaryon."
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see the boy almost jump from his place, a sigh of relief also leaving his mother and siblings.
"His mind never changed, nor did my support of him," Rhaenys said.
It was no surprise that Princess Rhaenys had defended her husband's will. Though if that was his will, Aemma could not know. She didn't know if she exactly trusted the will of Rhaenys, despite her proximity to the Lord of The Tides.
"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's granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree."
Rhaenyra practically grinned now, but she had to control herself. It wasn't surprising that Viserys had yet again, defended his daughter's honor against obviously true accusations.
"I see," Viserys waved his hand around a bit. "Well, the matter is settled again. "I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides."
Viserys heaved after every sentence. Were he not speaking right in front of them, Aemma might have assumed that he was sitting on the throne dead. Vaemond must've thought the same, at least before he walked into the throne room.
"You break law..." Vaemond bit his lip, hesitating for a moment before he spoke again. "And centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet you dare tell me... who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon?"
His eyes went to his daughter, who stood stoic and tall, though her brows furrowed a bit more as her father continued to speak.
"No. I will not allow it."
Aemma's hand moved make contact with Aegon. The fabric of his tunic on her hand brought some sort of comfort, but while she sought for the feeling of Aegon, she looked towards Rhaenyra.
Perhaps Rhaenyra knew what she was doing. She knew that Ser Laenor's grandmother was a Baratheon, maybe Lucerys and Jacerys got the dark hair from her. But if they had the dark hair, would they not be tall as well? Blue eyes?
"Allow it?" Viserys repeated, his visible eye now narrow. "Do not forget yourself, Vaemond."
Jaw clenched, Vaemond did not restrain himself now. "That is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine!" He shouted now, and Aemma could practically feel Helaena tense up beside her.
"Go to your chambers, Ser Vaemond. You have said enough." Rhaenys interjected. "Lucerys is my true-born grandson. And you... are no more than the second son of Driftmark."
Vaemond's looks shot venom to the Princess Rhaenys and the King. "You may run your house as you see fit, but you will not decide the future of mine—"
"Father," The Lady Alysanne tried to interrupt her father, but he kept going.
"My house survived the Doom and a thousand tribulations besides. Gods be damned, I will not see it ended on the account of this..." Vaemond looked towards the brown haired boys.
Say it. Aemma could see Daemon mouth. Lilac eyes looked towards Dark Sister, and her stomach dropped.
"Her children... are BASTARDS," Vaemond smiled as he shouted. "And she... is a whore." It was as if he took some sick pleasure from this.
Almost every person in the throne room gasped, Viserys raising himself from his seat, pulling a dagger from his waist. "I could have your tongue for that."
And that is when the sun hit the blade of Dark Sister. Clean through, Daemon made a cut through Vaemond's head, half decapitating him.
The head clattered on the ground, his body following shit. The silence in the room was deafening. Almost nobody spoke, Aemma could hear nothing except for the wails of Alysanne Velaryon.
"Father!" She choked out through the sobs.
"Disarm him!" Otto shouted, but Daemon simply dropped Dark Sister on top of Vaemond's body.
"No need."