Haven't I Given Enough? (Always The Fool) - Aemond Targaryen

4: Ser Vaemond

The petition to change the succession of Driftmark was set to take place in mere hours. The Princess Rhaenys had arrived at the Red Keep with her granddaughter Baela early in the morning, her brother-in-law Ser Vaemond accompanying. Harlys had been lucky enough to avoid both for the time being.

But her luck ran out while she was taking a turn about the gardens, Ser Darvyn trailing wordlessly behind her.

"Lady Harlys," A deep voice called, and by the silver hair and dark skin, she knew it to be Vaemond interrupting her stroll.

"Ser Vaemond," She repeated politely, bowing slightly. Darvyn retreated back a respectable distance, enough to make it seem as if he was not listening but close enough to intercede should things go wrong. "I pray your journey to King's Landing was swift and well?"

"It was, thank you. Though I must admit, you are a hard lady to track down. I must have searched several different chambers before I found you out here."

So Vaemond would act as if they had common ground, then.

"I do enjoy keeping myself busy." Harlys conceded, watching Vaemond carefully, as if she could see inside his mind if she concentrated hard enough. "Idle minds attract trouble, don't you agree?"

"Ah, but sometimes a little trouble is necessary."

"So you think changing the order of succession while your brother still lives is a, what did you say, little trouble?" Harlys folded her arms behind her back and tilted her head to the side, gaze piercing into Vaemond's.

His emotions were all too readily available to her; shock that she had broached the topic first shone clear in his eyes. And anger. Plenty of fury was quickly rising to the surface. That temper would not serve him well, should he wish to navigate the minefield he currently found himself in safely.

"Those boys are not Laenor's. They're not Velaryon. Driftmark should—"

"This is a matter to be presented to the king. I am not he, nor do I pretend to be so. Save your claims for later, Vaemond." Unrelenting, unyielding, raised in the court of the Red Keep. Harlys would not be bullied by the likes of Vaemond Velaryon.

"Claim your kin, stop this injustice." He stepped close to her, and on instinct Harlys stepped back. Darvyn's armor clanked as he moved toward her, but with little more than a hand to the side, he stayed his approach. "You know what is right, Harlys."

"I believe the lady told you to save your claims for the petition, Ser Vaemond." A voice, vaguely familiar and male, called. As the newcomer moved to stand at Harlys' elbow, she recognized Prince Jacaerys immediately. Vaemond might not bow to her, but he at least would have to put on a show for him.

"My apologies," The Velaryon sounded anything but apologetic, but Harlys could not find it in her to care as he gave her a meaningful stare and departed.

"Thank you, my prince." Harlys bowed her head slightly in greeting. Jacaerys repeated the action only after he was certain Vaemond was gone, a frown set deeply into his face. He was not much younger than her, only a year or two, but all she saw was a child still.

"Why is it that everyone is insisting that you declare us bastards but no one has approached Lord Larys?" Jacaerys asked, studying the corner behind which Vaemond disappeared. Harlys snorted, surprising him so much that he turned to face her.

"My brother Larys has no backbone." She spat. "No one trusts his word. I, on the other hand, am ward of the king. I've earned loyalty at court. If I were to turn on your mother, then my claim holds weight, power, and the trust of the king."