Led By Fiery Passion (currently being revised)

Part 23

"M-My King..." Otto stammered, his eyes wide with shock. Whispers swept through the hall like wildfire—none had seen the king in weeks, and his condition had clearly worsened.

"I will sit the throne today," Viserys declared, his voice breathless but firm as he began his slow, unsteady walk down the aisle.

Aenyra watched him with wide, admiring eyes. Every step seemed to cost him greatly—his cane trembled beneath his weight, and he stumbled once, causing the Conqueror's crown to slip from his head and clatter to the floor.

Before anyone could move, Daemon was at his side, steadying him with a strong hand. Aenyra stepped forward, gracefully retrieving the fallen crown. Together, she and Daemon helped Viserys up the steps to the Iron Throne.

When he was finally seated, Viserys clasped Aenyra's hand with gentleness, his gaze met her own. She bent down, her expression tender, and pressed a gentle kiss to his  forehead  before carefully placing the fallen crown back upon his head. A quiet reverence fell over the hall as she descended the steps to rejoin her family. The only sound that followed was the ragged pull of the king's breathing, echoing in the silence like a reminder of how fragile time had become.

After a moment, Viserys lifted his head, his voice low but clear.

"I must admit... I am confused. Why are petitions being heard over a succession that has already been settled?" His eye shifted toward Rhaenys. "The only one present who could speak to Lord Corlys's wishes is the Princess Rhaenys."

Rhaenys stepped forward without hesitation. "Indeed, Your Grace. It was my husband's wish—clearly and repeatedly stated—that Driftmark pass to his trueborn grandson, Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never wavered... nor did my support."

She turned to the room, her voice unwavering. "In fact, Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her intention to betroth her sons Jacaerys and Lucerys to my granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena—a proposal to which I heartily agree."

"Well then, the matter is settled. Again," Viserys said, voice ragged but firm. "I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as the rightful heir to Driftmark—Lord of the Tides, and its future ruler."

Aenyra and her family collectively exhaled, the breath they hadn't realized they were holding finally released. Relief washed over her as she glanced at her brothers. Luke's claim was secure, and both he and Jace were now betrothed. She couldn't have chosen better matches for them herself.

But the silence shattered.

"You break the law—and centuries of tradition—to install your daughter's son as heir," Vaemond snapped, voice rising with fury. "I will not allow you to dictate who deserves the legacy of House Velaryon!"

The room went still, tension crackling like a storm about to break.

Viserys narrowed his eyes. "Allow it? Do not forget yourself, Vaemond."

Tension snapped like a drawn bowstring as Vaemond erupted, fury twisting his features. He pointed a shaking finger directly at Lucerys.

"That is no true Velaryon—and certainly no nephew of mine!"

Gasps echoed through the hall.

Viserys straightened as much as his broken body allowed.
"You've said enough. Lucerys is my true-born grandson. And you are no more than a second son of Driftmark."

But Vaemond wasn't finished.

"You may run your house as you see fit," he growled, voice shaking with rage, "but you will not decide the future of mine. House Velaryon has survived the Doom, and a thousand trials since. I'll be damned if I let it end because of this—"