The True and The Brave

𝔗𝔴𝔬: 𝔏𝔞𝔡𝔶 𝔬𝔯 𝔏𝔬𝔯𝔡

[AN: So..please read over the last two chapters carefully...there are hidden things that if you did not read well, might surprise you. This is the moment y'all have been waiting for. Hold on to your seats, because it will be one bumpy ride. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. I spent all night revising and making this perfection. I won't accept to publish anything else that I don't consider worthy of your experience and mine] [Content Warning: Mentions of violence, blood and gore]

(Remember to continue to give my story love and appreciation, I really worked my ass off for this singular chapter)

Aemma slipped into the great hall where the proceeding was to take place. Not before noticing the sides of the quarrel. Princess Rhaenyra, Jaecarys, Lucerys, and Daemon stood proudly on the left side. On the right side of the room, it was obvious only by the pine green attires, stood Aegon, Haelena, and the young queen. Her eyes searched for those of her husbands, until she did. He nodded. He stood beside his family, but not quite fitting in with his dark leathers and sea green embellishments.

And then in the middle of the room, with Vaemond's entourage of men, stood Rhaenys, Baela, and Rhaena.

Aemma knew she had been late, but it was purposely executed by her. She wore a white gown, similar to her wedding dress, with sea-green embroidery. The silk material had been awfully similar to a certain ceremonial gown, but fixed by Baela, who often said that her body exuded confidence— to will it in her favor. The bodice of aventurine jewels fell from her as if it were the water of Driftmark itself. The eyes of the room shifted to Princess Aemma who apologized for her tardiness.

With every step, the lingering eyes increased, at did the pressure in her chest. This had to work. Aemma needed this to work. Aemond offered his arm, bringing a gentle kiss to her forehead and lightly caressing her belly. She smiled, the first time she ever broke her mask. Only for her Aemond.

Aemma shifted her cold glare to Aegon, who stood stoically beside Aemond. His gaze met hers momentarily before they shifted to the floor. Aemond smirked, knowing his wife would ask about that ordeal later. How he had reveled and lavished himself at that moment.

Otto Hightower cleared his throat, standing from the Ironthrone as if he commanded it, Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survives his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark".

Aemma felt the pressure in her chest. Almost as if the hand that weighed down upon her was crushing her lungs. She let out a long breath, trying to reinstall the normal pace of her breathing. One. Two. Three. Four. She locked the mask back in its place, standing next to her husband. Rhaenyra took a glance at her daughter, did not miss the glow on her face or Aemond's arm that seemed to wrap around her, the tips of his fingers slowly tracing patterns on the exposed skin on her hips.

"As Hand, I speak with the King's voice on this and all other matters. The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon", the Hightower lord motioned for Vaemond to start his petition.

Vaemond stepped forward. He first glanced at his niece, the chosen Lady of Tides. He had sworn her an oath. To respect her wishes. To carry out her commands. It wasn't in his nature to be deceitful to his own kin, but those Strong pups were no kin of his. He then, took out a scroll from his robes. His jaw clenched, as if mulling his words in his head. He had a part to play faithfully— Velaryons were no oathbreakers.

"My Queen. My Lord Hand. My niece, it has been long since I've seen you. I firstly extend congratulations to the good news, it seems", Vaemond smiled gently, as if by his words comforting Aemma. He knew that strong facade all too well. Had seen it first in his brother, Corlys, and soon after, in Laenor.