Enigmas | Aemond Targaryen

THIRTY FIVE

The decision to visit Driftmark as an emissary prior to Dragonstone wasn't a capricious one. For one, both Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys were exceedingly proud individuals, if I so wished to sway their stances in possible upcoming conflicts, displaying a gesture of respect and homage was incumbent. Another, I had been away for too long and lacked intimate knowledge of the local political scene on Dragonstone. They were still my family, yes, but I was not going there as a daughter and a sister. I was going to Dragonstone as a queen, as a ruler of the Seven Kingdoms who aspired to meld the blacks and greens back into one as things should be. Any inside scoop would help me get a better grasp of Dragonstone's wants and needs and increase the likelihood of reaching an agreement.

There were simple selfish desires of my own, too, of course. Deep within me were the sharp-edged conscientous throes of guilt and shame that I had belied my mother. I was worse than useless to her, a fucking liability. And Daemon. A gut-wrenching feeling mingled of outrage, heartsick and bitterness threatened to devour me whole whenever I thought of the dreadful letter that nearly cost my innocent little girl's life written by Daemon's hand.

I would have to do my duty without querimony as the peace and prosperity of the realm and the future of my children weighed upon the rebuilding of good relations between the two warring factions. But getting extra moments of mental preparation was a thought so sweet I could not possibly resist.

It was early morning when I reached the sea-beat, salt-stained shore of Driftmark, the rising sun shone brightly on the dark blue waves that swelled against the rocky coast.

As I jumped off the saddle, off-loaded the wooden box I brought and stood at the mouldering entrance of the old stone castle, away in the distance, I heard Silverwing's delightful echoing chittering, calling to Vermithor. "Jikagon naejot aōha byka riña.  Kesan brōzagon lo nyke jorrāelagon dohaeragon." Go to your little lady. I will call if I need help. Letting out a happy low purr, Vermithor lowered his mighty head for a few admiring scratches before he shot into the air.

"Your Grace." A pair of comely young men with manes of white gold hair that fell about their shoulders in lazy ringlets, and purple eyes so deep they looked almost black, approached me briskly. At once I understood why Lord Coryls would have the two baseborn sons of Hull legitimized. I would know them anywhere for my father Ser Laenor's children. The younger one, Alyn, in particular, was a splitting image of him. "We humbly welcome you to High Tide, my queen. It is a great blessing you bestow upon our roof and honor it with your royal presence. Please, come this way, Lord Corlys bids us to escort you to the Driftwood throne." The elder, Addam, swept his grand gesture and then offered me an amiable smile. I nodded, putting the most regal comportment I could muster into exhibit. "A pleasure meeting you, Addam, Alyn."

The guards and servants of the castle quickly dipped into deep bows and curtsies as we walked silently through the hallway. I had no need to look at them to know that everyone was covertly scrutinizing me, the proverbial sorceress and seductress. I armored myself with my most enigmatic smile as I entered the main hall, where the greatest sea voyager Westeros had ever known, the wealthiest man within the realm, the Sea Snake, was seated in his ancient throne received from the Merling King if legends were true. By her place at his side, his wife, Princess Rhaenys, the Queen Who Never Was, directed at me a small recognizing nod as I stood tall in front of them.

"Her Imperial Majesty Queen Visenya of House Targaryen, First of Her Name, the Light On the Tides, Light of All Lights, Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lady of the Seven Kingdoms." The announcing herald did not forget to include my old title, which had a strong association with the House Velaryon. Excellent. I'd be more than willing to use that to my advantage.

"Your Grace." Lord Corlys addressed me respectfully as he trudged down his throne with a cane. I was five feet ten of height but even in his hunching posture the Sea Snake towered over me intimidatingly. I raised my hand so that he might press a light kiss unto my sigil ring. "My Lord Grandfather, it gladdens my heart to see you so hale and healthy again. Please, as a family, I imagine we can dispose of formalities." My syrupy tone was convincing enough to earn me a kind smile and a hug from Princess Rhaenys. "Visenya, I was hoping to catch you at Prince Daeron's wedding. We have not congratulated you on your little Daenaera. Did you bring the Crown Princess with you?"