04 - THE FIGHT FOR DRIFTMARK

ALL CAPS = IN HIGH VALYRIAN

Aemond glared at Visena, his cheek slightly bruised and hurting. He was no fool; as weak as Visena let everyone think she was, she was more robust than many of the knights in Westeros, let alone the red keep. He was lucky she hadn't killed him then and there, but he knew she had grown rusty after her childhood massacre, and he would take advantage of that.

The prince intended to finish their conversation later, but they first had to make sure Lucerys didn't take Driftmark.

Visena smiled, standing on the left of her uncle as he looked at her with a slight smirk.

Tension filled the room; the air was thick and uncomfortable as people shifted around. Visena had always disliked The Red Keep. No fond memories were ever shared in the halls, only ones that ended in trouble. Maybe that was why her sister had decided not to come; the people residing within the cobbled walls felt hatred towards their family like no other.

She gazed at the iron throne at the centre of the room, lonely in the absence of the King, whose condition had worsened over the years. Visena longed to see him again, and he had always been kind to her, perhaps the only one of Alicent's pawns who held any compassion for her whatsoever. Maybe he would come to support them, but she dismissed the thought. There was little to no chance he would make it in his condition.

Rhaenyra looked at her niece and sighed, having been informed by Daemon about the earlier events. She knew Visena was prone to trouble, of course, but she still loved her like her own, but the girl was easily susceptible to anger. Her eyes locked with Rhaenyra's as her white irises dilated, and she looked away. Visena was said to be purer than the moon, but this made her gain the name of a bastard; no Targaryen had white eyes; everyone knew that.

It may have had something to do with her being born underneath the full moon, its energy bringing the babe to life after it was born dead. But it was no time to think about such things, and Rhaenyra prepared to fight for her son's claim and a rightful one at that.

Vaemond is yelling about bastards and whores. But, unfortunately, his argument goes down the drain as even the King on his deathbed watches from the throne with his dagger unsheathed. Blood spills, and everyone screams as, with a clean swipe, Daemon beheads him, the red liquid seeping into the stoned floor as Otto Hightower yells for him to be disarmed, and the smell of iron fills the air. The room was in a frenzy; Lucerys was now indeed the one to inherit Driftmark, and there was nothing Vaemond's corpse could do about it.

The crowd still had shock in their expressions as they slowly left the room, leaving it almost empty.

Alicent turned to her husband, not pleased with the decision.

"Viserys, we cannot them take Drfitmark, or at least let them get away with blatant murder. Vaemond died because of insults, do not let them go unpunished." She looked to the sickly King, hoping he would dish out some kind of punishment for his brother's behaviour. But none came.

Everyone stood in silence as Alicent grew more annoyed, turning to Daemon and his family, who were standing peacefully as if he had just not hacked off a man's head. "Viserys was right not to give you the right to the throne. I see how you mess around and swing your blade however you please. I will not stand for this any longer; this matter may be over but do not fret. I will find a way to get punishment handed to you." Visena stepped forward as Rhaenyra gave her a warning glance.

"Are you offering to get beheaded as well?" She asked, straightening herself as she put on a fake smile. Visena was done with Alicent and her schemes for power. Whatever she could do, Visena was prepared for.

"What?" Alicent turned her gaze to the figure who opposed her, "is that a threat?" Aemond tightened the grip on his sword; Visena was starting to piss him off seriously.

"I see it fit. You threatened heirs to the throne; that is treason, is it not?" She replied, her smile not faltering as her hand skimmed the hilt of her blade. Alicent took a step back as she tried to maintain composure, taking a moment to formulate her response.

"Learn to hold your tongue, girl. Do you not know to whom you speak?" Alicent responded calmly; she would not falter in the presence of someone as bold as her.

"Of course I do, though I cannot say the same for you," Daemon gave her a stern look, and she paused, her smile slightly dropping as she cleared her throat. "My apologies, Hightower."

Aegon could have laughed; had Aemond not been standing next to him, he could have probably done anything he liked.

Aemond gripped his weapon's hilt tighter; he had to admit she was good with her tongue. He would take great pleasure in pulling it out if he ever had the chance.

Alicent took her to leave, not wishing to interact any longer and wasting her time on meaningless arguments from which she could gain little. Rhaenyra grabbed her niece's shoulder and sighed,

"Do not speak in such an offensive manner. We are staying under this roof and until we leave, you will hold your tongue. Understand?" Visena gave a small smile and nod in return and swiftly left the room, exiting and through a small hallway to get to her destination.

She rolled her eyes as she heard familiar footsteps catch up to her.

"I see you still talk like an unrefined beast, be careful; You might lose your tongue," He smirked, leaning closer as his footsteps coordinated with hers.

"I see you still punch like a child; maybe that's why you're missing an eye," She smiled back, not a smirk like his, but too sickly sweet to be accurate. He curled his lip and pushed her against the wall once more.

"Let's finish our conversation from before, shall we?" Aemond grinned, leaning in close as their bodies pressed against one another. Visena sighed and quickly tried swiping his legs out from under him, and he fell, almost falling face first before she caught him by his chest.

He snarled and spun around, aiming a fist as she dodged it.

"Wow," She said, faking a shocked expression, "I expected a thank you?" Although Visena held no signs of weakness in her features, she knew she was rusty and that Aemond was definitely stronger. No doubt about it.

This time his fist connected with her cheek, and she fell back, giving him an opening as he pinned her to the wall, his breath uneven as he stuck his knee between her legs to prevent her from running away.

"Hey, now we're matching," he joked as he could see a bruise forming on the side of her cheek. He reached his hand out and placed it on her neck as she brought her hands up, trying to pull his grip away.

"Maybe I should cut off your dick, then we could match in not having one," she hissed through barred teeth.

Visena cursed at herself internally. She should have prepared more; she used to be more skilled than this.

Aemond felt something inside of him grow, a fire fueled with hatred for the girl who harmed him. He pressed against her, the pressure of his hand on her throat tightening. Muffled groans came from her mouth as her face turned red. Visena rose to the tips of her toes, trying to get in the air. Her vision started darkening as she desperately tried to wrench her hands-free from his grasp. He watched as she struggled and revelled in the pain he was causing. He hated her, and she deserved this for taking his eye.

He leaned in and whispered in her ear, "ill get you next time."

But no, he would kill her another way, one more painful. So he let her fall before spitting at her and smirking as he walked away whilst she gasped for air. Her plans to kill him had now become top on her priority list.

AN:

How is he so goddamn fine like DAMN. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter. Slowly but surely, we are inching close to when their enemies to lovers reach lovers; yay.