The Forgotten Visenya (HOTD)(GOT)(Cregan Stark)

The Trial of Lucerys Velaryon

The air in King's Landing was thick with tension as the day of Luke's trial approached. The courtyards buzzed with whispers, nobles exchanging furtive glances as they speculated on the outcome. Visenya stood in the courtyard, her silver hair cascading down her back, eyes scanning the horizon. She knew her sister would arrive soon, and with her, the storm that always seemed to follow.

When Rhaenyra's ship finally docked, Visenya was the first to greet her. The two women embraced, a rare moment of warmth in the cold, political world they inhabited. Rhaenyra's boys followed close behind, their faces a mixture of determination and apprehension. Visenya knelt down to Luke's level, giving him a reassuring smile.

"Remember, you are a dragon," she whispered, squeezing his shoulder. "No matter what anyone says in there, you are a true Velaryon."

Luke nodded, his young face trying to mask the fear that gripped him. Together, they walked into the hall where the trial would take place.

The room was filled with the most powerful people in the realm. Otto Hightower sat in the throne at the abscence of the King. The Trial went on with Vaemond speaking his case, all but calling out Rhaenyra and the boys as not being Velaryons. But before the trail could continue to go down hill for the Blacks, King Viserys made his way into the throne room. The tension was palpable as Vaemond Velaryon continued to make his case, his voice dripping with disdain as he challenged Luke's legitimacy. Once Rhaenyra tried to speak her mind, he cut her off

"This boy," Vaemond sneered, pointing at Luke, "is no true Velaryon. His mother is a whore, and these children are bastards. The throne of Driftmark belongs to true blood, not the spawn of deceit."

Rhaenyra stiffened, her hand reaching for Luke protectively. Visenya's blood boiled at the words, her hand instinctively moving to the hilt of her sword. She wanted to lash out, to defend her sister and nephews, but a glance at her father's lifeless eyes stopped her. She knew anything she said would fall on deaf ears.

But that didn't stop the words from slipping out. "You forget yourself, Vaemond," she spat, her voice low but laced with venom. "The blood of the dragon runs strong in their veins. If you wish to challenge that, perhaps we should settle it with fire and blood."

The room went silent, all eyes turning to her. Otto's face darkened, and Alicent's lips thinned in disapproval. But before anyone could respond, a sharp, cold voice cut through the tension.

Viserys ignoring his second daughter called out, "For that I will have your tongue!"

Vaemond turned to his atttention back to the king, his mouth opening to retort, but he never got the chance. In one swift motion, Daemon's blade flashed through the air, and Vaemond's head rolled to the floor. The hall erupted into chaos, but Daemon's cold, unflinching gaze silenced the room, "He can keep his tongue."

"Let that be a lesson to all who doubt the blood of House Targaryen," Daemon declared, his voice icy and final.

Visenya stood rooted to the spot, her heart pounding. She wanted to scream at the injustice, at the bloodshed, but she remained silent. She knew better than to challenge Daemon, or the fragile peace that hung by a thread in that hall.

The trial ended, and Luke was declared the rightful heir to Driftmark. But the victory felt hollow. As the hall emptied, Visenya's mind raced with what she had witnessed. She knew the true battle had just begun, and the wounds inflicted today would leave scars that could never be healed.

Later that evening, as the family gathered for what was supposed to be a celebratory dinner, Visenya found herself excluded. She wandered the corridors aimlessly, feeling the sting of isolation. When she learned of the dinner, her anger flared. How dare they exclude her, as if she wasn't part of this family, this war?

She stormed through the halls, searching for Aemond. When she found him, he was alone, a glass of wine in his hand. His face was unreadable as she approached, but she could see the tension in his shoulders.

"Aemond," she called out, her voice sharp. He turned to her, his eye narrowing.

"What do you want, Visenya?"

She took a step closer, her eyes blazing. "I heard what you said at dinner. Bastards... Only bastard here is you!" The words were out before she could stop them, her anger spilling over.

Aemond's expression hardened, but he didn't lash out. Instead, he simply turned away, his silence more damning than any retort. Visenya felt her anger dissipate, replaced by a hollow ache. She had expected a fight, a confrontation, but instead, she was left standing there, alone once more.

She turned and walked away, her footsteps echoing through the empty halls. She knew, deep down, that things would never be the same. The family was fractured, and she was caught in the middle, powerless to stop the impending storm.