The Queen is dead and her best friend is angry.
Elowen Redfort, Queen Aemma's Lady-in-waiting and closest confidant is in the room when the queen is murdered. Driven by her grief Elowen finds herself in the King's chambers intending to confron...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Sunlight streamed through the large windows lining one of the walls of the Great Hall, illuminating the room. Chatter filled the air as the occupants waited for the proceedings to begin. Elowen took a deep breath, readying herself as she began to climb the steps to the Iron Throne. She had never sat upon the King's seat, instead preferring to meet her subjects in the Small Council's meeting room. Now Elowen was forced to rule in her husband's name and take his place on the throne.
Aemond watched his mother ascend the throne, concern clear in his lavender gaze. A hand wrapped around his bicep, squeezing the muscle. He turned to see Rhaena staring up at him with a furrowed brow. He took her hand, lifting it away from his arm and to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles. The tension in her brow melted away as a small smile pulled at her lips.
"Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds," The crowd quieted as Elowen spoke "We gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark. As Queen Regent I shall speak for my dear husband, the King, alongside his Hand, Lord Lyonel Strong. The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon, please begin."
With the Queen's permission, Ser Vaemond stepped forward. "My Queen. My Lord Hand. The History of our noble house 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 Old 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 of their bloodlines and their name. I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother's seat. Now I intend to defend his named heir, Lady Baela Velaryon. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through her veins and mine."
"As it does in my sons," Rhaenyra interrupted. "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 help to supplant its rightful heir. No you only-"
"You will have a chance to speak your peace, Princess Rhaenyra. Now is Ser Vaemond's time." Elowen spoke, silencing Rhaenyra as her voice carried across the great hall.
"What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess?" Vaemond glared at the Princess, anger coarsed through his veins over the mockery she attempted to make of his house. "I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn't recognize it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours." With his point made, Ser Vaemond turned away from Rhaenyra and addressed those at the front of the room again. "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 my great niece forward as my brother's successor, the Lady of Driftmark, the Lady of Tides.
"Thank you Ser Vaemond." Elowen nodded to the man, as he stepped back in line with his family. "Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son Lucerys Velaryon."
