Nefarious || Aemond Targaryen

9

The following morrow Aemma sat staring at her reflection on the mirror as Joss intricately braided her hair. The bags underneath her eyes were evident. They placed a stark contrast to the surrounding skin on her face. She looked dull, paler than usual. She wore a a long red, off the shoulder dress with gold detailing, the arms had slits on them and a golden belt was fastened around her hips. A golden necklace around her neck.

"Princess, may I?" Joss asked once she finished braiding, bringing her hands Aemma's face. She pinched the Princess' cheeks ever so slightly causing them to turn a light shade of pink. "There."

The blush on Aemma's face gave her a naturally flushed look, she no longer looked dull. She thanked Joss before heading to the Throne Room, Ser Gregory escorting her. Upon entering the Throne Room she saw that it was filled with Lord's and Ladies of noble houses who were a part of the Court.

On one side was her mother, Daemon, Rhaena and her brothers. On the other side was Vaemond, like always, sending hateful glares towards her family. She silently rushed to her mother's side. She had made it just in time. Small, illegible chatter could be heard. Fingers were pointed and disapproving looks were aimed at them.

"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 begins. "As hand, I speak with the King's voice on this and all other matters." he takes a seat on the Iron Throne. Aemma glared at him. Who did he think he was to be sitting on the throne only her grandsire had the right to do. "The crown will now hear the petitions."

To his left stood the Queen, Helaena who stared innocently to the crowd in front of her, Aegon who looked like he would rather be anywhere than there, and Aemond who stood tall and proud, no doubt waiting for Luke to lose his claim. "Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon."

Vaemond steps into the middle of the Throne Room, all eyes on him. "My Queen. My Lord Hand." he greets. A glimmer in his eye. Baela stood by their grandmother behind him. Baela sent Aemma a pleading look, one that screamed that she wanted to be on her side. "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."

Great, a history lesson. Aemma groaned internally, history lessons with the Maester already normally took up half of her day. As if that weren't enough, she had to listen to this. "When the doom fell on 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 to their bloodlines and their name."

Not even five minutes into the petition and Ser Vaemond was already bringing up the bloodline. This wasn't going to end well. Aemma glanced at her mother, she did a well enough job at hiding emotions, but Aemma knew the look on her mother's face was one of pure rage.

"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." he continues, making sure to emphasize the word 'true'.

"As it does in my sons, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon." Rhaenyra speaks up. "If you cared so much about your house's blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir. No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambition."

"You will have a chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra." the Queen inputs. "Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard." Aegon smirks, clearly finding humor in the entire situation. Aemma rolls her eyes, not caring if the Queen or Hand saw her.

Vaemond now turns to face her mother. "What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess?" he asks. "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." he turns to glare at Luke before turning back to face Otto. Luke tenses up at her side, by feeling this she places her soft hand on his shoulder, caressing it.