Visenya looked apprehensively at the throne. It was large; much larger than she had expected, and she wondered if she was going to need help to get up. Once more, she desperately wanted to run away, but Mother stood just behind her like a silent commandment. Visenya drew a deep, shaky breath and wished father was there. Surely she'd be allowed to hold his hand.
Every eye in the hall was focused on the child as she approached slowly, apprehensively, flanked by Daenerys -lady Mormont, as some said- and Jon Snow, the Stark bastard and queen's hand. Visenya felt every gaze like a stone in a pouch around her neck, and with every step it felt a little heavier. She wanted to hunch her shoulders and hang her head, but Mother would never allow it.
Finally she stood before the throne, and then Master Tarly stepped forward. He held a small set of wooden stairs, elegantly carved, and placed them in front of the throne. Visenya gave him a shaky smile, wanting to run to him and bury her face in his dark robe, but she did not dare. Instead she climbed the stairs, doing her best to do it in a queenly way. She had no idea what a queenly way looked like, but when she finally dared to look at her mother she saw the pride in her eyes. Visenya drew a deep breath, then slowly sat down on the Iron Throne. She adjusted her dark red dress, a nervous gesture she had inherited from her mother.
She wasn't completely sure what she had expected, but when Grey Worm placed a fine gold crown inlaid with sapphires and mother of pearl on her head and the people assembled started applauding and cheering and calling 'all hail the queen!', Visenya turned terrified, pleading eyes on her mother and started to cry.