Rhaenyra's anger bubbled as she watched Maekar ascend the throne. After threatening Otto into securing Driftmark for her son, Maekar just had to come along and ruin her plans. She stepped back beside her children and Daemon as they watched Maekar draw Blackfyre from its scabbard and lay it across his lap as he sat on the throne.

Beside her, her children and Daemon stood in silent solidarity, their expressions mirroring her own discontent. The weight of their expectations and ambitions hung heavily in the air, the realisation that their carefully crafted plans were unraveling before their eyes.

As Maekar settled onto the throne, Rhaenyra's gaze fixated on him, her eyes burning with a mixture of resentment and defiance. She couldn't help but recall the last time Maekar had sat upon the throne, a mere child of five namedays old, eagerly trailing after their father, eagerly soaking in the lessons and responsibilities that came with their Targaryen heritage. But now, Maekar was a battle-hardened veteran, a man nearing forty namedays, armed with the infamous Blackfyre, an army of savages and burdened with the task of dealing with his traitorous sister.

A wave of bitterness washed over Rhaenyra as she realised the irony of the situation. She had once been the favored child, groomed to inherit the throne and carry on the Targaryen legacy. But now, her own actions and alliances had cast her as the enemy, a rival to the very power she had once coveted.

In the midst of her anger, Rhaenyra's mind raced, searching for a way to regain control of the situation. But she knew that challenging Maekar now would only lead to further division and bloodshed within their already fractured family. For now, she had no choice but to bide her time, to gather her strength, and to plot her next move with calculated precision.

With a deep breath, she gathered her children and Daemon close. In their united front, they would forge alliances, and seize the opportunity when it presented itself. The Game of Thrones was far from over, and Rhaenyra was determined to emerge victorious.

The Game had just begun, and Rhaenyra was determined to play it to win.

"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," Maekar began, and the murmuring crowd went silence. "As the future King of the Seven Kingdoms, I speak with the King's voice on this and all other matters," Maekar retook his seat on the throne. "The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon."

Alicent held her youngest child close to her as Aegon, Baelon snd Evelyn stood either side of them. Alicent sent a smug smile Rhaenyra's way, and she could see the madness within her sister-in-laws eyes.

"My Prince, my Lord Hand," Ser Vaemond stepped forward from his place beside Princess Rhaenys. "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," said Ser Vaemond, and Maekar leant back on the throne, running his thumb carefully over the jagged edges of the swords. "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."

Ser Vaemond almost looked pleadingly at the future King.

"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."

"As it does in my sons, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon," Rhaenyra spoke up before Ser Vaemond could continue on. "If you cared so much about your house's blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir."

"Enough, Princess," Maekar warned, but it fell on deaf ears.

"No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambition," Rhaenyra continued on, her own emotions getting the better of her once again.

"You will have chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra," Alicent cut in boldly. "Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard."

"What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess?" Ser Vaemond asked, smiling smugly as he turned from the future Queen to the Princess trying to usurp her brother's throne. "I could cut my veins and show it to you and you still wouldn't recognise it," he scowled. "This is about the future and survival of MY house, not yours."

"My Prince, my Lord Hand," Ser Vaemond faced the two again. "This is a matter of blood, not ambition. I place the continuation of the survival of my house and my line above all. I humbly put myself before you as my brother's successor... the Lord of Driftmark and Lord of the Tides."

"Thank you, Ser Vaemond," Maekar nodded. Ser Vaemond bowed his head in respect, glancing over his shoulder at Rhaenyra before retaking his spot in the crowd. "Princess Rhaenyra, you may now speak for your son, Jacaerys Velaryon."

"If I am to grace this farce with some answer, I will start by reminding the court that nearly twenty nine years ago, in this very--" Rhaenyra began, but was cut off when the doors opened once more. Shocked gasps reverberated around the throne room as King Viserys appeared in the doorway, using a crutch for support and a golden mask covered half of his decomposing face.

"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," one of the Kingsguard announced his presence as he weakly walked down the steps. Maekar stood from the throne as his father approached, sheathing his sword.

"Are you sure alright, father?" Maekar asked, standing on the side of his father where the man lost half his left arm to the rot in his body. He carefully supported his weight. His father looked past him to Rhaenyra.

"I will sit the throne today," he wheezed out. "I will be fine. I will be fine," he tried to reassure his son as he struggled to climb the steps to the throne. The crown of Aegon the Conqueror slipped from his head as the cane wobbled under his weight, clattering with the floor. As Markar went to pick it up, another hand grabbed for it.

It was Daemon. The uncle sent his nephew a nod.

"I said I'm fine," Viserys wheezed but stopped when he noticed it was Daemon. "Ah..."

"Come on," Daemon whispered, and with a groaning Viserys, both Maekar and Daemon helped Viserys up the remaining steps, steadying him every so often. The two of them sat Viserys on the throne. Daemon twisted the crown in his hands before handing it to Maekar, sending his nephew a nod as he walked back to his place beside Rhaenyra.

"There you are, father," Maekar said softly, placing the crown atop of Viserys' head. The weakened man grab Maekar's hand, and with as much strength that he could muster, he squeezed it fondly.

"I must... admit... my confusion. I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession," Viserys wheezed out when Markar stood beside Alicent. Alicent grabbed his hand in her own, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "The only one present... who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys's wishes is the Princess Rhaenys."

"Indeed, Your Grace," Rhaenys spoke up, stepping forward. "It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son... Jacaerys Velaryon. His mind never changed," her own smile turned smug as she looked from the shocked face of Ser Vaemond to Alicent's and Maekar. "Nor did my support of him. As a matter of fact, the 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."

"Well... the matter is settled," said Viserys. "Again. I hereby reaffirm Prince Jacaerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides," Viserys wheezed, covering his mouth.

"You break law... and centuries of tradition to install your daughter as heir when your son left the realm for nine years," Ser Vaemond said angrily to the King, walking forward. "Yet you dare tell me... who deserves to inherit the name Velaryon," his blood boiled over. "No. I will not allow it."

""Allow it"?" Viserys asked questionably. "Do not forget yourself, Vaemond."

"That is no true Velaryon, and certainly no nephew of mine!" Ser Vaemond seethed, pointing at Jacaerys and Lucerys. His voice echoed off the walls.

"Go to your chambers," said Rhaenyra to her boys. She turned back to Ser Vaemond and scowled. "You have said enough."

"Jacaerys and Lucerys are my true-born grandchildren," said Viserys, and Maekar rolled his eyes. How many times were they to have this conversation. "And you... are no more than the second son of Driftmark."

"You... may run your house as you see fit... but you will not decide the future of mine," Ser Vaemond seethed, taking a small step forward as he jabbed a thumb into his chest. "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--" he paused, staring at the two bastards.

"Say it," Daemon said softly.

"Her children..." Ser Vaemond paused. "Are bastards!" He shouted, turning back towards the King. "And she... is... a whore," the crowd gasped and began murmuring.

"I... will have your tongue for that," Viserys wheezed out. He stood weakly, unsheathing his dagger. Maekar went forward to stop Daemon but it was too late. With Dark Sister, he cut the top half of Ser Vaemond's head, exposing the tongue, tendons and veins to the court as it squirted out blood.

Aegon and Baelon stood protectively in front of their mother and sister, but Visenya moved around, staring in fascination at the blood stained floor.

"He can keep his tongue," Daemon shrugged, smiling smugly as Maekar unsheathed Blackfyre, Aegon and Baelon following suit.

"Disarm him!" Maekar ordered, and the Kingsguard followed.

"No need," Daemon said softly, stepping away from the corpse. Their attention was caught by Viserys weakly groaning on the throne. Maekar and Alicent quickly rushed up the steps.

"Call the maesters!" Alicent ordered, both her and Maekar kneeling in front of Viserys.