THE DRIFTWOOD THRONE
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131 AC, King's Landing
The morning after their arrival to the Red Keep — when the fate of the Driftwood Throne would be decided — Valyria woke up at the crack of dawn. In Sunspear she always woke up first in order to get dressed and get a few things done before breaking her fast with the rest of her family.
Due to her husband's fondness of keeping her close when they slept, every morning turned into a struggle to break free. Most days he'd let her go, roll over and continue sleeping. More often lately, however, he'd try to keep her close even when he remained asleep.
Laying on her side with Daemon's chest pressed against her back, arm slung around her waist and one leg thrown over both of Valyria's. Valyria attempted to roll out of his embrace only for Daemon's unyielding hold to tighten. In the process of making sure she remained in her place, Daemon in his sleep-hazed state nuzzled against the crook of her neck, burying his face into the silver tresses.
"We are not in Dorne," Daemon mumbled sleepily. "Sleep."
"It's an important day," Valyria reminded her husband. It wasn't simply the fate of Driftmark that would be decided when the verdict laid on the table. If the Crown declared Lucerys Velaryon heir to the Driftwood Throne little would change. Should Vaemond Velaryon be proclaimed the rightful heir, however, then the legitimacy of all Rhaenyra's children also had to be questioned and her position as Princess of Dragonstone threatened.
"Not for us," Daemon drowsily. "All we are required to do today is stand there and pretend we are not plotting the Hightowers murders."
"Then I shouldn't bother your rest since we all know how much strength it takes for you to not murder Otto Hightower every time you see him," Valyria snorted. She tried to remove Daemon's arm from around her waist but he didn't budge. "I need to make sure the children are prepared-"
"I assure you they are sound asleep right now," Daemon told her firmly. "Much like everyone else in the Red Keep."
Realising this was a battle she never could win, Valyria relaxed in her husband's arms. Satisfied by her submission to his request, Daemon closed his eyes again yet did not move an inch. The only problem being that Valyria – considering the day they had in front of them – had far too much to think about and therefore she couldn't bring herself to fall back asleep.
Her plan to wait for Daemon's breathing to even out, signalling that he'd been lulled into a slumber again, and then attempt another escape. She soon realised Daemon shared her difficulties when his fingers languidly traced patterns against her skin. Due to last night's activities, no clothes separated them and one particular part of Daemon was definitely awake judging by the evidence pressing against her back.
"I thought you wished to sleep," Valyria teased.
"You woke me up," Daemon kissed her neck. "And since it appears you have no intention of lying still, it has become near impossible for me to fall asleep. How do you intend to remedy the situation you've caused, menace?"
"I could think of a few ideas," Valyria played along. "Though, if you wish for me to do anything other than simply lie here, I am afraid you'll have to let me move."
"A tempting offer," Daemon hummed. "But one I must decline because I do find this position rather comfortable."
.•° ✿ °•.
After a pleasurable morning that came to an end when the servants knocked on the door, Valyria and Daemon broke their fast. An outsider might not have noticed that something between the prince and princess was a bit off, but for Valyria it became clearer for each day. In the beginning of their marriage, Daemon was insatiable; during the days, he could seek her out several times and if anyone dared to interrupt any moment that potentially could lead to fucking he'd be in a sour mood for hours.
Valyria realised that she and her husband still probably spent more time in bed – or any other place that had to make due – than most other married couples. But ever since Viserys's birth something changed in Daemon's behaviour. He'd started to pull out – something that never happened before – and it was like he held himself back. Valyria didn't like it one bit but didn't know how to bring it up considering how defensive and irate Daemon tended to become whenever he came anywhere close to talking about his feelings.
Therefore, she continued – for now – to pretend like everything was perfectly fine. Who was she to complain when she had a husband that clearly cared for her on some level. When they finished eating, Valyria's handmaids and Serra assisted her in getting ready for the day.
The cherry red dress she wore left her collarbones and shoulders bare and drew attention to the Valyrian necklace around her neck – a piece of jewellery that the princess rarely had been seen without for over a decade. A dragon head was embroidered into the bodice and neckline, its scales looking like glittering gold and rubies. Silver hair was neatly braided into a bun at the nape of her neck, surrounded by a net decorated with white pearls and rubies.
A lot of attention turned to Valyria and Daemon as they entered the throne room, arms linked together. Something about the Realm's Jewel and the Rogue Prince made it impossible for the courtiers to not stare. Together they were the epitome of Valyrian strength and beauty; a strong and handsome warrior prince and a beautiful and kind-hearted princess.
Jaeron and Viserys were both too young to attend court but the rest of her children were there, walking in behind her and Daemon as they entered. First Cyrenna and behind her Aelia, Daeron and Rhaena. The children followed their parents – or rather their mother's – lead and kept a courteous smile on their faces, backs straight and gaze forward.
Closest to the Iron Throne, on each side of the aisle, stood Queen Alicent and Princess Rhaenyra with their respective entourages. Valyria could have sighed in annoyance because it was clear that she'd have to pick a side to stand on. Green or Black. The disdain in Alicent's eyes – probably due to their little argument the previous day – and the coldness Rhaenyra seemed to regard her with lately made Valyria consider just stopping in the middle of the aisle.
But that would only shift the attention towards her so in the end, she chose to stand with Rhaenyra and her two eldest sons. Though she did send a warm smile towards Aegon, Aemond and Helaena that stood by their mother, as well as one to Rhaenys and Baela who stood with the rest of the Velaryons. Then her attention was drawn to Otto Hightower who climbed up to sit on the Iron Throne; a symbol of House Targaryen's power created by the melted, beaten and broken blades from Aegon the Conqueror's enemies.
According to custom, the Hand of the King could sit upon it in the King's absence. That, however, did not mean Otto Hightower belonged anywhere near it.
"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," Otto Hightower said loudly, his voice echoing across the hall as he stood at the top the steep iron steps. "As Hand, I speak with the King's voice on this and all other matters."
Beside her, Daemon grumbled something incoherent under his breath, a deep scowl on his face as he surveyed the Hand with hatred. When Otto sat down on his brother's seat, Daemon's free hand hovered above the hilt of Dark Sister. To calm her husband down, and prevent him from doing something hot-headed, she placed her left hand on Daemon's hand that rested on her right forearm.
"The Crown will now hear the petitions," Otto Hightower announced. "Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon."
From behind Alicent and her children, Ser Vaemond stepped forward into the aisle where everyone could see him, "My Queen," he bowed his head to Alicent. "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 forebears came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end to their bloodlines and their names. 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 intervened calmly, her tone near monotonous. "If you cared so much about your house's blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir." For the first time Rhaenyra looked over at Ser Vaemond, her voice becoming more throaty, "No, you only speak for yourself and for your ambition-"
"You will have a chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra," Alicent interrupted her. "Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard."
Rhaenyra pursed her lips in annoyance of being put in her place by the Queen while Ser Vaemond smirked as he turned to face the princess, "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." He patronisingly added, "This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours."
Vaemond turned his disdainful gaze towards poor Lucerys who appeared uncomfortable by the entire ordeal. Taking pity on the young man – and not liking the way Vaemond used the Hand and Queen's hatred of Rhaenyra to patronise her – Valyria said, "Perhaps you could go back to make your petition, Ser Vaemond. Unless your entire argument relies on cutting your veins open."
To his credit, Ser Vaemond refrained from saying anything snappy about her speaking up and instead turned back to 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," Otto said and Ser Vaemond backed away. "Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon."
Rhaenyra appeared almost bored as she stepped into the centre of the aisle and said, "If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly twenty years ago in this very-"
Rhaenyra was interrupted when the large double doors creaked open, gaining everyone's attention. All the occupants in the room turned around to see two Kingsguards enter first followed by none other than Viserys himself. He was using a cane to support himself as he limped into the Great Hall. Even from a distance, Valyria could see that the part of his face that yesterday was covered with bandages now was obscured from view by a golden mask.
The visible relief on Rhaenyra's face strongly contrasted the clear shock the Queen displayed as the King made his entrance. "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."
Ser Vaemond Velaryon questioningly looked at Otto Hightower, as if asking what was happening. Meanwhile the Hand quickly stood up from the Iron Throne now that the King had entered the throne room. Every slow step that Viserys took towards the throne brought the Velaryon man a step further away from inheriting Driftmark.
For everyone it was clear that King Viserys illness turned him into a man whose body weakened for every passing day, forcing him to watch himself rot into a living corpse. Yet the strength he displayed now was one Valyria truly admired him for. Her cousin was far from perfect; he'd made stupid and selfish decisions in his life but he was there to protect his daughter when it mattered.
Valyria dipped into a curtsy when the King passed by her, her children following her lead, while Daemon observed his brother closely, standing beside her like a statue. When Viserys passed Otto he was slightly breathless, "I will sit the throne today."
"Your Grace," Otto said, not having any other choice but to step away.
When Viserys struggled to climb the steep steps, Valyria nearly rushed forward to help him but was beaten by a member of the Kingsguard who stood closer to the King's side. Only Viserys waved his help away, his pride not allowing him to accept any help, "I will be fine. I will be fine."
Stubbornly, Viserys continued his way up to the Iron Throne. However, his slouch posture eventually caused his golden crown to slip off his head, clashing to the floor. Daemon unlinked his arm from Valyria's. After a few long strides he reached the throne just as Viserys tried to pick up the crown and Daemon reached down to pick it up himself. Thinking it was the Kingsguard, he repeated, "I will be fine."
Upon casting a glance over his shoulder, Viserys realised his younger brother had come to his aid. For a short moment the two brothers looked at each other silently. Many things happened between them over the years; yet despite everything they were still brothers and one thing Valyria never doubted was Daemon's loyalty towards Viserys.
"Come on," Daemon whispered. He placed a hand on his brother's back and assisted him up to the throne while simultaneously allowing Viserys to climb up by himself. "Steady," Daemon muttered when Viserys staggered.
Watching her husband help his brother up on the Iron Throne brought a warmth to Valyria's heart. Even more so when Viserys finally sat down on the throne and Daemon placed the crown on his head. A fleeting moment, Daemon stood before his brother shyly, avoiding eye-contact. Then he turned around – his impassive expression returning – as he walked back down again. He returned to Valyria's side and she smiled softly at him, leaning her cheek against his shoulder for just a second. Linking his arm through hers again, Daemon relished in the comfort of her presence when Viserys began talking.
"I must – admit my confusion," Viserys said, still catching his breath. "I do not understand why petitions are being heard about a settled succession. The only one present who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys's wishes is the Princess Rhaenys."
"Indeed, Your Grace," Rhaenys said, speaking up for the first time. She stepped forward and said, "It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son, Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him."
In that moment, Valyria knew Rhaenys spoke completely for her husband without taking her own will into account. She respected what Corlys wanted for his bloodline instead of arguing for her own sake. During the years, Rhaenys sometimes expressed an annoyance towards her husband – to Valyria – about Corlys's belief that it was more important that history remember the name Velaryon instead of their bloodline continuing.
"Well, the matter is settled," Viserys said. "Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne and the next Lord of the Tides."
However, nothing ever went without a hitch in King's Landing. Ser Vaemond laughed mockingly, "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."
"Remember that you are speaking to the King, Ser Vaemond," Valyria warned the second son. "Do not forget your place."
Ser Vaemond boiled with anger and then he pointed towards Lucerys and screamed, "That is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine."
"Go to your chambers, you have said enough," Rhaenyra glared at the man who questioned her sons' legitimacy.
"Lucerys is my true-born grandson," Viserys said tiredly; this time like he had grown tired of repeating it. "And you are no more than the second son of Driftmark."
"You," Vaemond sneered, "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," he turned his death stare to Lucerys again, "I will not see it ended of the account of this-" he hesitated.
Every single man and woman in the throne room knew exactly what he wanted to say. Yet it came as somewhat of a surprise when Ser Vaemond took a deep breath and forcefully smiled, "Her children," then he yelled, "are BASTARDS!" Many gasped, others grew angry, some amused, yet Vaemond simply continued, "And she is a whore."
Taking a step away from Daemon and towards the Velaryon man, Valyria calmly said, "Ser Vaemond, if you wish to leave King's Landing alive-"
"SHUT IT!" Vaemond yelled, turning his anger towards Valyria. "I will not be ordered around by a dornishman's former whore whose purpose disappeared the moment her father died."
Taken aback by the way Vaemond spoke to her, Viserys spoke before she could retort. The King stood up on the throne now, dagger raised, "I – will have your tongue for that."
With all the attention between the King and Vaemond, no one – not even Valyria – noticed how Daemon had unsheathed Dark Sister until he with the Valyrian blade cut Ser Vaemond Velaryon's head in half. A collective gasp of horror rang through the room. Queen Alicent looked away, Helaena covered her ears, Aemond looked mildly impressed and Aegon angry mixed with pleased. Aelia hid her face in Daeron's shoulder, not wishing to see the blood.
It took quite a lot to put Valyria Targaryen in a state where she did not know what to say or do. Yet as she watched the former second son of Driftmark's body drop to the floor, blood and brain matter mixing on the tiled floors, she was tongue-tied. Walking into the throne room that day, the last she expected was her husband killing Vaemond publically. And her not expecting her husband to murder somebody meant the risk shouldn't be high.
The tip of Dark Sister's blade dug into the floor and Daemon rested both hands against the pommel casually as he said, "He can keep his tongue."
"DISARM HIM!" Otto Hightower commanded the guards.
"No need," Daemon said innocently, wiping the blood off the sword with his tunic as he stepped back to his wife. On the throne, Viserys started to show more visible signs of fatigue.
Finally finding her tongue again, Valyria said, "I think we can consider this matter resolved now," she casted a quick glance down to the floor where the body and upper head of one claimant to the Driftwood Throne laid separated, "is it not time for your midday meal now, Your Grace?"
"Yes, yes," Viserys agreed, pushing himself to his feet. "That it is," he managed to stand on shaky legs. "Court is dismissed now."
The crowd scattered as Ser Harrold Westerling made sure to assist the King down from the throne, preventing more bloodshed in the throne room. Valyria approached the King on his way down before the Queen had the opportunity to whisk him away, "How are you feeling?"
"In pain," Viserys croaked. "But I don't want any tea," he added firmly.
"Aye, no tea," Valyria said, casting a quick distrustful glare over to the Hightowers. Their plan to cloud the king's mind enough to rule the realm in his stead had failed this time, and she'd make sure that if Viserys didn't want Milk of the Poppy to lessen his pain, then it was his choice to make. "Make sure the King gets safely to bed, Ser Harrold."
"I promise, Princess Valyria," The Lord Commander said as he continued to guide the king out.
Most of the people inside the Great Hall were already out or on their way. The only ones remaining in their spots were members of the royal family. With the change that the eldest prince and youngest princess no longer stood beside their mother, the Queen. Aelia clutched Aegon's waist in a tight hug, hiding her face in his doublet while the prince carefully hugged her back with one arm while his free hand rested on Daeron's shoulder. Next to them, Helaena chatted with Cyrenna, Rhaena and Baela as well as Luke.
Daemon stood a few steps away from them, talking to Rhaenyra. Jacaerys stood dutifully by his mother's side, listening in on whatever conversation they were having until Rhaenyra whispered something to him and he stepped back to join his brother.
"Princess Valyria," Otto Hightower said, gaining her attention, pulling it away from her husband and his niece.
"Lord Hand," Valyria greeted him cordially. "Is anything amiss?"
"Other than the man your husband just slaughtered in front of half the court?" Otto sneered, sending a dirty glare over at Daemon.
"Aye, other than that," Valyria said, not in the mood of being pushed into Otto's and Daemon's feud. Obviously she was on her husband's side in every possible way but defending him did not include answering for his actions when he was fully capable of doing so himself.
"The King requested we all dine together tonight," Otto explained monotonously. "In the Queen's Ballroom."
"When you say all of us-"
"The King and Queen, their children, Princess Rhaenyra and her sons, you and Prince Daemon with your children," Otto clarified, a voice taking on a bitter tone when referring to both Rhaenyra and Daemon. Especially Daemon.
"I look forward to it," Valyria told him, smiling courteously just for show. Turning on her heels, she was happy to see that somebody covered Vaemond's body with sheets and that Aelia had calmed down and laughed at something Daeron had said.
Serra, like the dutiful lady-in-waiting she was, stood by her side in seconds. "Could you make sure the children are ready for this supper?" Valyria asked her. Lowering her voice she added, "And if you have time, see if you can find out if anyone in King's Landing knows anything about the Second Sons visit to Sunspear."
Picking up her skirts to not stain the fabric with blood, Valyria stepped around the pool of blood. Even when speaking to Rhaenyra, Daemon kept a close watch on her – not that Valyria noticed – and when he saw her exchange a few words with their children he caught her eye just as she strode towards the double doors. Without hesitating he said a quick 'I have to go' to Rhaenyra and with a few long strides he caught up with her.
Valyria kept her eyes forward, maintaining a quick pace that Daemon easily matched due to his tall figure. For most of the walk to their chambers, Daemon managed to keep his mouth shut. "You can't possibly be displeased about me killing that Velaryon cunt-"
"You cut his head off in front of the entire court," Valyria responded calmly, still not looking at him. "In front of our children."
"If we are being specific, I cut his head in half," Daemon pointed out, earning himself a glare. He took it as a victory because Valyria actually had to look at him in order to convey her irritation. "They will survive it," he then shrugged, referring to the children.
Valyria entered their chambers first and Daemon closed the door behind him, finding his wife already looking at him with her arms crossed, "We came here to make sure the proceedings went smoothly. Not to murder the second son of a noble house!"
"Darling wife, everyone expected you to make this farce go smoother," Daemon pointed out. "Not me. And it's no great loss for anyone. You said it yourself, Vaemond was only a whiny second son."
"I did not say whiny."
"It was implied."
"I can't believe you sometimes," Valyria exclaimed. In truth, she didn't know if she even was angry with him for killing Vaemond. What really angered her was the mere fact that he'd once again acted before thinking and this time it seemed to be without consequences. In the future, he might not be so lucky. "What possessed you to cut his head in half?"
"He insulted you," Daemon said simply, jaw clenching at the way Vaemond spoke to her in the throne room.
"That's it?" Valyria asked him.
"I could spin some lies about how it angered me that Vaemond disrespected the King, called Rhaenyra a whore and her children bastards," Daemon walked closer to her, "but until he dared to insult you, I didn't kill him."
Surprising her husband, Valyria's arm encircled his neck as she brought him into a kiss. A protesting groan left his lips when she after a few seconds pulled away, "Thank you for defending my honour," she said, "even though I advise you to think it through before killing anyone that insults me in the future."
"You are not angry?" Daemon wondered in relief. "I don't have to sleep on the floor?"
"No, you are safe," Valyria chuckled. Then she grabbed his chin between her fingers like he often did to her and fixed him with a faux-threatening glare, "This time."
"What did the Hightower cunt speak to you about?" Daemon asked, displeased by the mere thought of the man anywhere near his wife.
"What did Rhaenyra speak to you about?" Valyria retorted. However, when noticing Daemon's vexation she explained, "Viserys wants all of us to dine together this evening in the Queen's Ballroom."
"All of us?" Daemon muttered distastefully.
"Aye, all of us," Valyria repeated. "And it's going to be tense already so you have to be on your very best behaviour. Set a good example for the children so that they see that fighting within the family is pointless."
"You are too clever to not see that this is a disaster waiting to happen," Daemon snorted. "We won't get through the first dish before somebody throws the first punch."
"For as long as that someone is not you, dear husband," Valyria pecked him on the lips, "I will be most pleased."