Aemon Targaryen (107 A.C. Nineth Moon)
King's Landing – Tourney Grounds
Aemon hears Otto's announcements and feels elation rise within him, already carried on a high after winning the joust. History changes before his very eyes. Not only does Aemma live, she has also given birth to two babes. He gives Rhaenyra a quick, small, mouthed congratulation. Seeing her face that happy warms his heart. Yet then he sees Arya's. She gives him that knowing smile. She knows it too. History has already truly changed.
He feels the urge to go to them as quickly as he can. Yet he knows that, with Viserys likely occupied for the foreseeable future, he must play host to the public together with Laena and Rhaenyra.
Then Aemon turns to the crowd with a smile. "All of you, come cheer for the new prince and princess."
At his intent, the crowd cheers once more, and cheers him too as he walks off the grounds and toward his tent, where Laena is waiting for him.
She embraces him and kisses him hungrily as he walks into the tent. "You were amazing today, and thank you for crowning me."
"Of course. Although I wish to celebrate with you in our chambers," he mutters as he kisses her neck.
Laena then looks at him contentedly. "I know. With the King likely occupied, we have to host tonight's feast and tomorrow's melee and archery contest together with Rhaenyra."
"Yes," he says with a sigh as he kisses her again.
After a moment, he hears two ughs coming from behind them. He and Laena turn their heads, seeing Arya, Bennard, Visenya, and Laenor waiting in the doorway.
"Aemon, can you do that in your chambers, please? I have seen enough smutty princess stuff today," Arya says with a groan.
Laena and he chuckle, and Aemon notices the yearning look on Visenya's face. He has to talk to her. Her betrayal still stung, yet could it work between them? Could he love her like a lover?
He shakes his head and asks, "I take it Rhaenyra has gone to her mother and father?" He knows his niece would have come to him.
"She has," Visenya replies.
"I shall redress and quickly bathe, and then I shall join you later. Now go and see them," he notes, as he looks toward Bennard and Laenor, who quickly start to take off his armor.
"I leave you, boys to it," Laena says as she kisses his cheek. "I will see you soon."
After that, save for his squire, the rest walk out of the tent.
Red Keep – Aemma's Chambers
Aemon walks into the chamber. He had not thought of it, yet when he touches the door handle, he has a strange feeling. The thought that Laena would, if everything was fine with them both, also lie in the birthing bed.
He takes a deep breath and walks into the room.
He sees Rhaenyra sitting there on the bed where Aemma lies, holding a babe. To his side is his mother, holding another, and Visenya, Laena, Laenor, and Arya are all around her. Looking at the babe, he smiles, then sees Laena looking at him with that look he enjoys, that knowing look. She wishes for this too, a babe.
He scans the chamber further and sees Viserys, who sits on one side of the bed, looking at Aemma and holding her right hand. Aemma herself looks pale, yet she is there, breathing. She still lives, and Aemon wonders what it all means for the future as he walks toward his brother.
"Brother, congratulations on your little prince and princess," he says, as he takes his brother's hand. Viserys looks at him, foggy.
What is it? He notices it. There is something in the air as he steps into the chamber.
"If he lives," Viserys mutters quietly.
Aemon's eyes widen as he looks toward the two babes. "What? Why?"
Viserys then looks toward the other end of the chamber, where a wet nurse, a maester novice, and Dussard are standing. "What is happening with Baelon?"
Viserys sighs. "Speak with your maester. He did well. He knows best."
Aemon frowns as he places a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder. "I will."
"The child needs a bond. It could help. A dragon could help the babes be strong," Balerion rumbles to him in his mind.
"Would that truly work?" he asks. "Have you ever been sick?"
"No, but I have always felt strong and healthy, and my father died of sickness," he points out.
"Perhaps, yet what if that was something else? I got sick only once, and that was from the firewyrm hatchlings. It caused me to lose my memory of my time in Valyria with Aerea. It was their poison that made me sick. Poison, not just illness," Balerion replies.
Aemon frowns, thinking of the implications of what Balerion is saying. His father might have been poisoned. He clenches his fist as he looks back toward Viserys.
"Do they have dragon eggs yet?" he asks.
Viserys looks at him with heavy eyes. "Baelon was given a dragon's egg. It has not hatched yet."
"What if we bring in Jedor or Jadewing?" he asks.
"The hatchlings you brought from Seadragon Point?"
"Indeed. Tell me, brother, did you not feel stronger after you bonded with Goynogar?" he asks.
Viserys nods, and his eyes widen. "You think it could help strengthen them?"
"I hope it could. I have never felt better since I bonded with Balerion. I even remember our grandfather speaking about our Aunt Daenerys, that she needed a dragon when she got sick. I think he might have believed it would help her. There are other examples, like Aenys and Princess Rhaena coming out of their shells after bonding with their dragons."
Viserys' eyes widen. He lets go of Aemma's hand and rises from his seat. "I shall order the dragonkeepers to bring them."
Aemon smiles as he sees some renewed vigor in his eyes.
Two days later
He walks into the chamber. His little nephew lies in Rhaenyra's arms, and his breath is so weak. It has become a recurring sight whenever he comes to greet them. After the second day, Viserys had left. His mind was too much in despair, and he had retreated to his chambers.
While the two dragons seem to have bonded with their possible riders, it is Alysanne who has truly taken to her dragon. The little dragon, with pale green scales and jade markings, around the size of a small dog, has curled around her. It is Jadewing who has bonded with the child.
Yet Jedor, the small pale blue dragon, is nothing but restless. Aemon knows dragons are smart, and although Balerion is a special case, Vhagar and the other dragons have shown forms of intelligence that he does not even see in direwolves. Jedor either does not want to bond with little Baelon, or he senses something. Perhaps he knows something they all do not want to admit, that little Baelon will not make it.
"Rhae? How is little Baelon holding up?" he asks, sitting beside her on the bed and putting an arm around her.
"He still struggles. I hope he lives. Muna gave up so much for him. I do not want to lose more of my siblings," Rhaenyra says as she sobs into his chest.
"Well, he looks like her, as do you. He has her eyes," he says, stroking her back as he looks into the opening and closing eyes of the babe. Now and then, the child coughs. Dussard had told him it was sadly a condition that came with babes, either twins or the procedure that Mellos had suggested. It is one more thing that makes him distrust the maesters, and he wonders if Aemma's children were poisoned by them, and perhaps more in the Targaryen line. Maybe even his half-sibling Aegon, or Alyssa herself.
"I suppose he does. His breathing sounds so weak. He does not sleep much and coughs a lot," Rhaenyra admits.
It is moments like these when he wonders if he should do what he swore he would not do, when he heard of the boy's condition. He remembers again what Balerion had told him about what happened to Maegor. Apparently, the man had almost died, or did. Balerion had not been sure, yet after Maegor's reappearance after the Trial of Seven, the man who had been Maegor Targaryen was no more.
Sure, Maegor had been a harsh man, one who took merciless actions more often than not, and sometimes rash actions when his blood was up. Yet he was not cruel for the sake of cruelty.
Yet after Tyanna of the Tower and Visenya nursed him back to health, or rather, to Balerion's knowledge, with blood magic, he returned wrong. Aemon is not sure if he could subject the realm to a possible Maegor the Cruel reborn, if he healed Baelon with the ritual and the boy was healed wrongly. He knows what happens when a mad king sits the throne. He has seen it twice. Fire and blood. This king, like Daenerys, could have a dragon in the future.
He shakes his head and looks at the boy thoughtfully. Be strong, lad. You can still give others hope.
Chapter 51: Corlys Velaryon
Corlys Velaryon (107 A.C. Nineth Moon)
Kingslanding – Council Chamber.
He picked up some wine and left the table when the King spoke. "Where is Rhaenyra?" His voice sounded full of grief.
"Your Grace," Otto spoke up, "this is the last thing any of us wish to discuss at this dark hour, but I consider the matter urgent." Here we go. What does the rat want now?
"What matter?" the King asked, not knowing what his Hand meant.
Otto waited a moment before speaking again, calculating what to say. "That of your succession. These recent tragedies have left you without an obvious heir."
The gall of the man. The King had two heirs, Daemon and Aemon. Although having worked with both of them, Aemon was the better choice. But he should not voice his preferences. "The King has an heir, and even a spare, my Lord Hand," he spoke.
"Despite how difficult this time is, Your Grace," Otto continued, paying no mind to him, which irritated him, "I feel it is important that the succession be firmly in place for the stability of the realm."
"The succession is already set," Lyonel spoke up then. "By precedent and by law."
"Shall we say his name?" he spoke then. Otto knew full well who the heir was. The man just had hatred for Daemon. He sat down with a full goblet of wine. Nobody spoke up. Okay, I will say it then, he thought irritably. Though he would rather see Aemon as heir, as Aemon had shown himself he could be King these past moons, years he supposed, yet he spoke the name. "Daemon Targaryen."
Grand Maester Mellos spoke with some arrogance. "If Daemon were to remain the uncontested heir, it could destabilize the realm. Aemon as well; he is far too Northern, and with his other strange ways."
Why would he say that? He knew for some time the maester was in play with the Hand. The two, on most occasions, supported each other during arguments.
"The realm?" he asked firmly at the older man. "Or this council?"
Otto spoke up then. "No one here can know what Daemon would do were he king." The King looked at his Hand with irritation. "But no one can doubt his ambition. Look at what he did with the gold cloaks. The City Watch is fiercely loyal to him. An army two thousand strong."
The words made the King shake his head and speak up. "An army you gave him, Otto. When he was Master of Laws, you said he was a tyrant. As Master of Coin, when Lord Beesbury was away, you said he was a spendthrift that would beggar the realm." The King spoke with some irritation and raised his voice. "Sending him to the City Watch, and in command there, was your solution!"
"A half measure, Your Grace. The truth is, Daemon should be far away from this court. As for Aemon, Your Grace, he should be monitored in the future. His exploits, together with being the rider of Balerion, make him one of the most powerful men in the realm," Otto said in response to the King's argument, but that did not make the King happy.
"Daemon and Aemon are my brothers," the King reminded his Lord Hand. "My blood. And they will have their place at my court. As for Aemon, he has always been dutiful." The King said firmly, making Otto shake his head.
Then the Grand Maester again spoke in disfavor of Daemon and Aemon. "Then let them keep their place at court, Your Grace," Mellos said before pausing and speaking once again, but in a hushed tone, "but if the gods should visit some further tragedy on you, either by design or by accident…"
"Design?" the King cut the maester off. His anger rose with every word the two of them spoke about his brothers. "What are you saying? My brothers would murder me and take my crown?" Mellos gave no response, causing the King to yell, "Are you?!"
"Daemon has ambition, yes," the King continued in his normal tone of voice, "but not for the throne. He lacks the patience for it."
Corlys was not so sure. Perhaps the man was waiting for Rhaenyra to come of age to claim the throne that way. He wondered about Daemon's ambitions.
"As for Aemon, as I said, he has been nothing but dutiful, an exemplary prince through his years, and he has brought back things lost since the Doom." The King stated, and there was pride there, something Corlys did not hear when he spoke of Daemon.
"The gods have yet to make a man who lacks the patience for absolute power, Your Grace," Otto spoke against the argument.
Well, speaking of patience. Of having one daughter speaking with the Old King. Now, with that patience, he was the second most powerful man in the realm. Corlys thought bitterly.
The King stared with anger at his Hand when Mellos spoke again. "Under such circumstances, it would not be an aberration for the King to name a successor."
Why would he need to? He had two heirs, by all the laws of the land.
"Well, who else would have a claim, besides the brothers?" Lyonel asked, before adding, "In my opinion, one of them at least has the makings of a good king."
"Who?" the Hand asked, with narrowing eyes.
"Prince Aemon," Lyonel stated firmly. Corlys smiled. Well done, Aemon, for making Lord Strong an ally.
Both Otto and Mellos sighed before the Hand spoke. "Aemon may be a good lord, if the reports and his words are to be believed. He has spent most of his time in the North. He follows the Old Gods, too. I see a better option. The King's firstborn child."
He had to be kidding. He wanted a girl when House Hightower and many of the Reach and the kingdom had spoken against his wife. Now he was pushing Daemon and Aemon aside for a girl.
"Rhaenyra? A girl? No queen has ever sat on the Iron Throne," Lyonel said, bewildered.
"That is only tradition and precedent, Lord Strong," Mellos argued.
Oh, you… It was that precedent that meant his wife was not the queen right now. Corlys breathed in deeply.
"If order and stability so concern this council, then perhaps we should not break one hundred years of it by naming a girl heir. If the King wishes for a stable heir, he should name Prince Aemon his heir," Lyonel spoke, irritated, and Corlys raised his brow toward the Master of Laws.
"Aemon is a heathen and has done who knows what to achieve what he has done," Otto spoke against Lyonel. "As for Daemon, he would be a second Maegor, or worse. He is impulsive and violent. It is the duty of this council to protect the King and the realm from him." Then the man turned toward the King. "I am sorry, Your Grace, but that is the truth as I see it. And I know that others here agree."
"I will not be made to choose between my brothers and my daughter," Viserys spoke, his voice closer to a hiss as his anger rose.
He decided to speak then. "Your Grace, if you truly wish to name your best successor, you should name Aemon your heir."
This made Lyonel look at him with a smile. "As said before, Your Grace, if this council is so worried about Daemon, it would be better for the realm if Prince Aemon takes the position. Aemon is an accomplished lord and dragonrider of the rider of the Conqueror's dragon, a symbol that brought the realm together. It could now do so again."
At that moment, he spoke up again, feeling the momentum. "Aemon is Your Grace's brother, and his marriage with my daughter would give their children a stronger claim through Rhaenys, the only child of Jaehaerys' eldest son," he said. "She had a strong claim at the Great Council, and both claims of Jaehaerys' sons would be united." He ended his reasoning for putting Aemon forward as the heir.
Otto looked at him as if he had swallowed a lemon and turned to a bitter laugh. "Just moments ago, you announced your support for Daemon!"
"Well, Lord Hand, you did not want Daemon as heir. Aemon would not be him. Even your objections are not close to the ones you put forward for Daemon, save for his faith in the Old Gods and the miracle of bringing back things lost from the Doom," Lord Strong argued.
His words were cut off by the King, who bellowed in anger. "My heir is dead!" The King bellowed, causing everyone in the room to flinch, and the argument was closed as the King rose from his seat, slamming his hand on the table in anger. "I will not sit here and suffer crows that come to feast on his corpse."
With that, he stalked out of the council chamber, with Ryam following on his heels.
The rest of them sank back into their seats as the King left the chamber. The Grand Maester and the Lord Hand looked at him and Lyonel with contentment. While Beesbury seemed only to have listened, and Corlys wondered what the Master of Coin thought.
Chapter 51: Viserys Targaryen
Viserys Targaryen (107 A.C. Nineth Moon)
Kingslanding - King's chambers
He sat in his chambers, meticulously working on his Valyrian model. As he looked, he could see a vision of it now materializing. With Aemon's inventions, it would now be possible. His younger brother represented a true blend of Valyrian and Westerosi heritage, garnering support from many lords and common folk.
Tales of Aemon's prowess and honor in the tournament as a mystery knight honoring his lady love would soon be heard throughout the realm. He sometimes wished he were not the firstborn son, but Aemon, who embodied a mixture of himself and Daemon. Despite Aemon's ruthlessness, there was a kindness in him, a dedication to family, and a duty to the realm, much like himself.
His contemplations were interrupted by a knock on the door.
"The Lady Alicent Hightower, Your Grace," Ser Ryam announced.
Alicent entered, holding a book.
"What is it, Alicent?" he inquired, rising from his seat.
She spoke timidly, "I came in to look in on you, Your Grace. I brought a book."
As Ryam closed the door behind him, he smiled at her and spoke, "That is very kind."
"It's a favorite of mine. I know how passionate you are about the histories," Alicent said as she sat on the opposite chair across from the Valyrian model.
Viserys responded uncertainly, "Yes, I'm..." His words trailed off as he glanced over at his daughter's friend.
As he resumed sculpting the model, Alicent spoke again, "When my mother died, people only ever spoke to me in riddles. All I wanted was for someone to say that they were sorry for what happened to me." She paused before continuing, "I'm very sorry, Your Grace."
He nodded, thinking of his little Baelon, his boy who would never see the world.
Council Chambers
The following day, in the council chambers, he sat in his chair as Otto began to speak, the council meeting having commenced.
The entire room, including Aemon and Rhaenyra, was draped in somber black. The court was still in a melancholy state of affairs. He felt that sentiment all too well, he thought as Otto began.
"Last night, Prince Daemon bought out one of the pleasure houses on the Street of Silk to entertain officers of the City Watch and other friends of his. He spoke of you and the council, expressing regret at the council's position regarding him as presumed second in line to the throne. To be fair, I have had my reservations toward the Prince, so what he spoke about is true. Although he spoke more," Otto reported with a sigh, igniting Viserys' frustration at the ongoing infighting between Otto and his brother.
"He toasted Prince Baelon, Your Grace, styling him the short heir," Otto revealed, shocking him.
No, brother, please do not. These supposed actions were beyond belief. He felt his heart beat in his chest, and he could not get a word out. His mouth dried, and he felt himself grow dizzy.
Instead, Aemon spoke. "Lord Hand, I know you dislike my brother, but I hope, for your own hide, you have evidence," Aemon said, irritation and a genuine threat in his voice.
"Of course I do, my Prince. I corroborated this report with three separate witnesses. The evening was, by all accounts, a celebration," Otto affirmed, glancing at Aemon, who displayed anger and disdain on his face.
"Out, all of you! Aemon, stay. I would have a word," he raged, dismissing even his daughter and the Kingsguard, leaving the room in stunned silence.
Trying to calm himself, he drank his glass of wine in one go. The burn helped somewhat.
"Damn him. Damn him by all the gods. How could he do it?" he raged when they were alone.
In the distance, he heard three separate roars rising.
"Daemon lets his mouth speak before he thinks. The man has been in limbo for the past five years, always speaking of how he is the heir. Now he is again, although I wished it otherwise. Baelon was all Aemma, a beauty, a new light for the kingdom. I am just sad, and I am not surprised by Daemon's actions. You know the dagger I crafted for him? He spat it back in my face when I tried to gift it to him," Aemon said, his voice filled with melancholy.
Pacing back and forth in the council chamber, Viserys battled with his anger as he attempted to maintain composure while contemplating the crucial decision of selecting an heir, one that would shape the fate of the Iron Throne and the Targaryen dynasty.
His brother observed him closely, understanding the weight of the situation.
"Your Grace," Aemon spoke formally, his tone measured, "as much as I want to rage about what Daemon said, we must consider the realm's future. Clearly, our brother's ambitions have never waned, and his actions may have irreparably damaged his standing. He openly mocked you for the lack of an heir and dishonored your passed son and Aemma's sacrifice. Something that nearly killed her, yet it is a blessing she is still here, as is little Alysanne. I do care for my brother, though we have never been close. But right now, having him around is not worth the trouble he gives us."
Sighing deeply, he acknowledged the truth in his brother's words.
"You are right, Aemon. The realm cannot afford to have a contentious heir. It could lead to another devastating civil war, something we must avoid at all costs. We cannot have another Aegon the Uncrowned and Maegor the Cruel."
Aemon nodded in agreement before proposing a solution.
"Rhaenyra, your daughter, has always been strong and has been with you in the small council, doing her duty and learning at your side. Naming her as your heir could help maintain stability in the realm. It would continue Aemma's legacy and yours. However, it might bring anger from those who are not inclined to have a woman rule over them. Still, it is a reasonable choice, if the realm is prepared for Rhaenyra's rule."
Surprised by his brother's suggestion, having suspected Aemon would support himself for the position, Viserys considered the implications. So he spoke his thoughts aloud.
"But tradition has always favored a male heir. Naming Rhaenyra would cause controversy, perhaps even rebellion from those who hold to the old ways. I will be pressured to marry again, and set Aemma aside, something I would never do, so I could have a son. But I cannot see it happening. I love Aemma. She has given me two beautiful daughters, and I will never push her to have a child again. I will not. I will not do it again."
Aemon looked at him with a proud smile. "I know you will not. Aemma is a good woman. She deserves respect."
Viserys smiled, contemplating the potential repercussions of naming Rhaenyra as his heir. He had another idea forming in his mind, a compromise to preserve his and Aemma's legacy and ensure the continuity of their line while adhering to the traditional notion of a male heir.
The notion of marrying his daughter to Aemon emerged, though he was not entirely sure. It would anger Lord Corlys for certain if he broke off the betrothal, and he was not sure if he could expect Aemon to stand by. He seemed to care for Laena, although he had also seen the affection between him and Rhaenyra. He had seen how Aemon cared for his niece. He did not always look at her the way an uncle looked at a niece. Although he did not like the thought, he could see it working.
With a serious tone, he turned to Aemon and asked, "Aemon, would you do what your King asks of you? Unlike Daemon has done, would you put the good of the realm and our house above personal desires?"
Aemon met his gaze with unwavering determination and answered dutifully, "Your Grace, my duty to our house and the realm has always been my foremost priority. I will do whatever is necessary to serve the Targaryen dynasty's best interests and ensure the realm's stability. My desires come second to my duty, as they should for any loyal subject."
It was the answer Viserys had hoped for.
"I leave you now to contemplate your choice, brother. I know you will make the right decision. Good day, Your Grace," Aemon said, bowed, and started to leave.
"Thank you, Aemon," he said.
Aemon embraced his brother. "Be strong," Aemon said before he left.
The conversation had revealed Aemon's commitment to their house and the realm, more than it ever had before. The boy had not pushed himself forward, something he knew Daemon would have done. It gave him the confidence to consider him a potential heir. Aemon's marriage to Rhaenyra remained unspoken for now, but it was clear Daemon could not stay as his presumed heir.
He thought of this as Aemon left the council chambers.
The Throne Room
The main doors opened from the other end of the hall. He was seated on the throne, the pointed blades sticking out around him. He watched as his brother walked in with a smug expression on his face. The nonchalant demeanor infuriated him, his blood boiling at the sight.
"You cut the image of the Conqueror, brother," his brother said casually, his eyes fixed on the throne.
"Did you say it?" His voice was low, anger simmering beneath the surface, hoping against hope that his brother's words were untrue.
His brother stopped just at the foot of the throne and replied, "I do not know what you mean," a look of unconcern and confusion on his face.
He now needed to assert his authority as King and spoke harshly, "You will address me as Your Grace, or I will have my Kingsguard cut out your tongue. The Heir for a Day. Did you say it?" His voice resonated with anger.
His brother averted his gaze, avoiding eye contact. There was a flicker of recognition, and then he spoke, his voice devoid of authority.
"We must all mourn in our own way, Your Grace."
Frustration mounting, he hissed, "My heir passed away. Instead of being by my side, or Rhaenyra's, or Aemma's, like Aemon was, staying with them, you chose to celebrate your own rise. Laughing with your whores and lickspittles."
Daemon looked conflicted.
Good. Let him see the hurt he caused me.
"You have no allies at court but me!" he bellowed. "I have only ever defended you! Yet everything I have ever given you, you have thrown back in my face. Why could you not do your duty? Why could you not be more like Aemon?"
His brother retorted, "You have only ever tried to send me away. To the Vale, to the City Watch, anywhere but by your side. Five years you have been King, and not once have you asked me to be your Hand."
He realized then his brother's long-suppressed resentment and responded, "Why would I do that? You have never done your duty or been respectful. You could have done it, even proved to me you could, with your wife. Your child could have been the heir to Runestone. But your damn pride got in the way. So why should I give you the Handship, something you are not prepared for?"
"Because I am your brother. And the blood of the dragon runs thick," his brother pleaded, trying to speak of their brotherly bond.
But he just huffed.
Had he not treated most dragon-blooded kin like dirt? Aemon was a true brother, fighting and serving his family. Daemon had not been that since the Great Council. He had been prideful, too proud for his own good.
He thought about Daemon's words.
"That is rich coming from you, brother. You have treated your own blood like second tier. You cut us so deep with your actions," he retorted, his anger giving way to deep sorrow.
"I have only ever spoken the truth about the wolflings, and I see Otto Hightower for what he is," his brother defended.
"What about them, Daemon? And Otto is an unwavering and loyal Hand."
"Halflings, whelped from a whore who seduced our father and dishonored our mother's memory. As for Otto, he is a cunt. A second son who stands to inherit nothing he does not seize for himself. As for Aemon, he has a rocky cliffside ruin somewhere in the North, as if that is worth anything," Daemon retorted.
That dishonorable bastard.
"Aemon, Visenya, Arya, and Lyanna are family. Aemon has done more for our house than you have ever done. He and Otto Hightower are more honorable men than you could ever be," he responded, his anger still evident.
"They do not protect you," his brother accused.
Protect him? From Aemon? Aemon had been working in the North, projecting power for their house. That was the definition of protecting. He thought in wonder at Daemon's words.
"I would."
"What are you speaking of? From what?" he questioned. He truly did not know.
"Yourself," his brother replied.
Unbelievable. The gall of the man. His anger rose again as Daemon continued to speak.
"You are a weak king, Viserys. And the council of leeches knows it. They all prey on you for their own ends."
He laughed then. He found it laughable. He and Aemon had just discussed the succession to the throne, and in it, Aemon did not suggest himself as heir. Not to replace the man, he now looked at, and Aemon had even defended Daemon.
He thought about all of this, all of the shit that had happened to land them here. Daemon's words made the decision he was about to make much easier. He had hoped to give his brother perhaps a chance to redeem himself, but that was a vain hope based on what had happened in this conversation.
Then he spoke, his voice full of ice.
"I have decided to name a new heir."
It broke the silence.
"I am your heir," his brother said, wondering.
No, that chance was gone the moment you betrayed and insulted your family.
He felt bile rise in his throat.
"Not anymore. You are to return to Runestone and your lady wife at once. And you are to do so without quarrel. Let us see if you still can do your duty. That is an order from your King," he spoke harshly as he ordered his brother away.
His brother walked forward, but the Kingsguard swiftly unsheathed their swords and blocked his access. Ryam's white blade caught the torchlight, flickering dramatically. His brother looked at the Kingsguard with a mix of shock and disdain.
"Your Grace," he said lowly, lowering his head in a bow before walking out of the main hall.
Viserys leaned back into his chair and rested. His heart was heavy with pain, but his resolve was true in his heart regarding the decision he was about to make.
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