Lucerys the Menace: Reborn

Chapter 4: Succession Of Driftmark II

IN KINGSLANDING

"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. 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." Otto Hightower's voice rang through the throne room. He seated himself upon the iron throne. A seat that was never meant for a Hightower.

"My Queen." Vaemond took his stand in between the aisles. "My Lord Hand. The history of our noble houses extend 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 Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind. Our fore-bearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end to their bloodlines and their name."

"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." Rhaenyra turned her head to face the traitor. Her eyes sharp as daggers.

"You will have chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra. Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard." Her Grace was hastily attempting to put an end to the arguments, before fighting ensued.

"What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess? 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." Vaemond cut his eye to Luke, he looked upon him with pure disgust. "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-"

A surge of fury ignited within Lucerys. He couldn't remain silent any longer. As Vaemond continued his self-serving monologue, Lucerys  interrupts his voice cutting through the tension in the stifling throne room.

"Silence, Ser Vaemond!" he boomed, his voice echoing in the cavernous hall. All eyes turned towards him, the heir of Driftmark standing tall amidst the whispers and scheming.

"You speak of Velaryon blood," Lucerys continued, his gaze unwavering, "yet you conveniently forget the pact made between our houses, a pact witnessed by the very gods themselves. My grandfather, Corlys Velaryon, chose me, his blood, as his heir. What right do you have to question that decision, a decision made with a sound mind and a full heart?"

Vaemond bristled, his face turning a shade of purple rivaling the amethysts adorning the Hand's seat. "Blood, Prince," he spat, "the true blood of Driftmark! You and your brother are… well, everyone knows the truth. You are not trueborn Velaryons, but bastards sired by Strong!"

A gasp rippled through the court. The whispers Lucerys had spent years trying to ignore erupted into a cacophony. Shame burned hot on his cheeks, a familiar feeling fueled not just by the accusation itself, but by the knowledge that it held a sliver of truth, a truth from a life he barely remembered.

Rhaenyra, her face a mask of fury, rose from her seat. "Enough!" she roared, her voice silencing the court. "Ser Otto, will you allow such slander to be cast upon members of the royal family?"

Otto Hightower, ever the opportunist, remained seated on the Iron Throne, a smirk playing on his lips. He relished the discord, the growing rift between Rhaenyra and the Velaryons.

"Princess," he said, his voice dripping with false concern, "let us allow Ser Vaemond to complete his petition. Then, we shall hear your defense."

Lucerys met Rhaenyra's gaze, a silent plea for support passing between them. He wouldn't let Vaemond's words, fueled by the Greens' machinations, weaken his claim. He was Lucerys Velaryon, heir to Driftmark, and he would fight for his birthright, for his family, for the crown that rightfully belonged to his mother.

He straightened his back, a newfound resolve hardening his features. The Dance of the Dragons may have begun with whispers and accusations, but Lucerys, with the knowledge of a past life and the fire of a dragonrider, was ready to face the storm head-on. The true battle for Driftmark, for Rhaenyra's claim, and perhaps even for the Iron Throne itself, was just beginning.

As Ser Vaemond Velaryon Continues "My Queen, My Lord Hand. Blood is the mortar that binds a house, and mine runs deep in the veins of Driftmark. The survival of my lineage is not a humble petition; it's a primal roar echoing through the halls of history. I stand before you not as a supplicant, but as the rightful heir, the tide itself demanding its true lord. Let the waves crash upon those who would deny me my birthright, for Driftmark shall have its Velaryon, and I, Vaemond, am its instrument!"

Alicent responds"Thank you, Ser Vaemond." Ser Vaemond gave Rhaenyra a smug look, before walking down the aisle to his place. "Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Lucerys Velaryon." Rhaenyra left Luke's side to take her spot in the middle of the aisle. Jaecerys pulled Luke back between him and Rhaena.

"If I am grace this farce with some answer, I would start by reminding the court that nearly twenty years ago, in this very-" the doors to the throne room were opened. Rhaenyra's speech was interrupted. Everyone turned around to see who it was.

"King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of his Name, King of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and protector of the realm." Two members of the Kingsguard stood on either door. The King walked slow with a cane and a golden mask covering half of his face. He was slow to walk, but he made his ascent. All the way down the aisle, not to the throne, but to his first born, his child, Princess Rhaenyra.

"I will sit the throne today." The King said, before attempting to make his way up the steps. The Kingsguard tried to help, but he refused. He took another step and his crown clattered to the ground. Daemon stepped up and rushed to his brother's side. He helped Viserys make his way up his throne and placed the golden crown upon his head. It was a beautiful moment. A glorious fleeting moment. He took his place back beside his wife Alicent Hightower.

"I must...admit...my confusion. I do not understand why petitions are being heard...over a settled succession. The only one present who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys's wishes is the Princess Rhaenys" The King looked to his cousin. The wife of Lord Corlys.

"Indeed, Your Grace." Princess Rhaenys stepped forward to the middle of the aisle to speak directly to the King. "It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his true born son, Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons, Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys's granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal to which I heartily agree." Rhaenys ended the greens and Vaemond Velaryon's ambition and scheming with the flick of her tongue.

"Well...the matter is settled...again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood throne, and the next Lord of the Tides." The King stated.

"You break law...and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir. Yet, you dare tell me...who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon. No. I will not allow it." Rhaenys had taken her spot next to Baela again, Vaemond had moved to the center again to face the King.

"Allow it? Do not forget yourself, Vaemond." Viserys nearly laughed at Vaemond Velaryon, but he did not stop.

"That." He pointed to Luke. "Is no true Velaryon!" He shouted. Luke eyes Vaemond, rhaenyra released Jace's hand to wrap her arms around Luke. Protecting him in any way she could. "And certainly no nephew of mine." He turned back to the King.

"Go to your chambers. You have said enough." Rhaenyra warned. She knew what was to come if he kept talking.

"You...may run your house as you see fit...but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the doom and a thousand tribulations besides. And Gods be damned...I will not see it ended on the account of this-" the words hung in his throat.

"Say it." Daemon warned softly. He wanted to shed blood. A silence fell over the throne room for a moment.

"Her children...are bastards and she is a whore!" Gasp rang across the throne room. The King rose from his throne, he pulled his dagger.

"I...will have your tongue for that." Uttered the King in his need to protect his daughter and her children. Daemon was quicker. He took off Vaemond's head with a single swing of Dark sister.

"He can keep his tongue"