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123 AC, King's Landing
Daemon Targaryen wondered when the world had stopped making sense as he made his way to Viserys's solar. He distinctly remembered his brother, with the urging of many lords of the realm, doing his best to avoid giving him more power. Perhaps it was out of fear of him, perhaps the lords simply relished in his brother's weakness, which allowed them more freedom than they ever had under the Conciliator's reign, and did not wish for Daemon to stop him.
And yet, these lords had chosen his son to be King.
Truthfully, Daemon had been tempted, very much so, to do it himself. He hadn't outwardly said it to anyone, but he had thought that his son would have been the likeliest candidate with Rhaenyra's blood that could sit on the throne. The lords would not choose a bastard to rule them, and while Jace was a nice enough boy, his becoming king would likely end in a civil war, one that would repeat itself for every one of his descendants, should he prove himself to be victorious.
He knew that should he put his son as a candidate, then there was a chance that the realm would not fall under the control of the Hightowers, just as he feared, and yet, Daemon did not. He likely would have once, but he knew that doing so would have great consequences. For one, it would be seen as definitive proof of the Strong boys' parentage, for this would be akin to Rhaenyra and him admitting that Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey were bastards. They might not be of his blood, but he grew to love them nonetheless, and he found that he disliked the idea of hurting them just for an uncertain chance to put his blood on the Iron Throne.
There was also the issue of Rhaenyra. His wife was in a fragile enough state that he refused to do it. Then again, Daemon had spent the duration of the Great Council, ensuring that she would not do something foolish… again, like act on the ridiculous idea that the Lords would somehow choose her after she publicly killed the former Hand of the King, and tried to do the same for her own half-sister.
He wished that this had not taken as much effort as it had to ensure that she would not worsen her situation, for he had lost count of the number of Rhaenyra's attempts to escape her confinement, sometimes by force, and sometimes by trying to sway her guard to her favour. It was… sad to see his wife brought so low. It was times like these that Daemon missed Laena most. She would have known what to do, for this was not where his strength lay.
He could not do as she asked and had largely decided not to involve himself in the Great Council, for the memories of Rhaenyra's actions would be fresh on everyone's minds. Of course, he would not have sat back and waited for the Hightower whelp to gain access to his family's legacy, but Daemon knew that he would need patience, something that he was admittedly not very good at.
Daemon would have waited, allowed the boys to grow into men. He would have ensured that Aegon would have grown into a great man, a better one than Daemon, than Viserys. He would have ensured that the realm would know of his feats, enough that he would have been an obvious choice in another Great Council. After all, accidents happened every day, especially to drunkard princes.
The other boys would have been grown men with grown dragons, more than able to deal with the possible consequences of their parentage, and perhaps Viserys would have arranged for them to have their own lands to govern. They could even ignore the Great Council utterly, citing that they would not wish to be kings.
Oh, Daemon knew that it was not good to plan around his nephew's death, but he felt like he had no choice. Even if Otto was dead, much of his work remained; he would not allow his house to become weaker or fall under an Andal House's control, and this was certainly preferable to war, one that he found himself more wary of waging. He was not unwilling, of course, but he would prefer methods that would not endanger his children. The flashes that he had of his daughters' fates, thanks to Harry Potter, returned every time he thought about it, the realisation of the cost of the glories of war.
Of course, that plan was no longer needed, as his son was somehow now heir to the Seven Kingdoms, without even attempting it. He had stood completely frozen and baffled on that day, when the realm had chosen his son.
It had been one of his oldest dreams to unite his and his brother's bloodline and for them to sit on the Iron Throne, and yet it occurred before his eyes, and all he had felt then was bafflement and happiness, but it was tainted by suspicion.
Lords did not wake one morning, seized by sudden devotion to House Targaryen. They chose what profited them most.
So why his son?
It could not be love for Rhaenyra. That had long since withered in the hearts of many. Nor was it affection for him; many of his actions had made certain of that over the years.
Rhaenyra did not seem to share his concern that it might be some kind of possible trap, one that involved their son.
Instead, Daemon had left her chambers but a few hours past, and she had done nought but scream at him, blaming him for the results of the Great Council, claiming that he had betrayed her, betrayed Jacaerys to put his own blood on the throne.
It was why he had finally made his way to Viserys's solar, to finally realise the possible truth of the scheme that his son was entangled with. It was then that Daemon realised that he had scarcely spoken with the man since the attack.
A distance had grown between them, one that even his miraculous recovery and his time in Dragonstone did not truly mend. Daemon would admit that he could be… trying to be around, but Viserys had dismissed so many of his concerns in favour of Otto, a grasping Andal of all things, that he felt the need to show his displeasure in what might have been slightly… petty ways.
He arrived before the door of the solar, with two Kingsguard standing before him. A small part of him wished to smile at the fact that he would likely not see Ser Crispin's smug face anymore, the coward having been sent to the Night's Watch for his cowardly actions during the attack.
Daemon would admit that the man was very skilled, but this conflict had shown that he was a knight of Summer. He performed well in tourneys and might have fought in skirmishes with the Dornish, but wars, like the one that Daemon fought in the Stepstones, were different.
These conflicts were ones where you can feel Death's grasp approaching and refusing to yield, where you fought for every breath you took, showed them who they truly were, and showed them the core of their being. A man who never experienced this would not know how they would react before an impossible threat, whether they would fight or flee. Many had fled in fear, and those who survived returned having felt the shame of their action and never fled again. They had seen Death, and it was not such a terrifying force. He did not begrudge their fear. Sometimes, he found it amusing, but these men had chosen to fight, to return, and were the better for it.
It was different for a Kingsguard to do the same, to abandon one's king and hide from a great threat. Any amusement he would have felt at Cole's downfall had been swallowed by the rage he felt. This had been one of the men who stood before Viserys and the many who would wish his harm. What message did this leave to the rest of the realm, the rest of the world, about the famed order of the Kingsguard?
Daemon thought that it would have been better to have Cole beheaded, to show the world the price of cowardliness while having the honour of being a member of the Kingsguard, let alone the fucking Lord Commander. At least, it would have stopped cowards from joining their ranks.
Speaking of which, the Kingsguard, one of the Cargyll twins, spoke up, "The King asked not to be disturbed."
The Rogue Prince suppressed the urge to run him through with Dark Sister and gritted out, "Then tell him that I wish to speak with him."
Both knights hesitated for a few moments before one of them nodded in silence and entered the solar. He returned a few seconds later, nodding, "The King shall see you, Prince Daemon."
Ignoring the disrespect shown to a prince of the realm, Daemon entered the room, only for his irritation to wither away when his gaze met Viserys's form. He looked tired, far more tired than he had during the feasts and the endless fucking jousts in this fucking endless tourney.
His brother was staring at his model of Valyria, holding a small tower in his hands, with a morose grief in his eyes, one that Daemon had not seen since Aemma's funeral. Knowing his brother, he decided to start with a small jest to break him from his mood, "I suppose you must have commanded the Kingsguard to bar the door because the fate of these tiny towers is too grave a matter to be interrupted?"
Daemon knew that this was not how one should address a monarch, family or not, but he knew his brother enough to know that he would not be slighted by his words. As he expected, whatever melancholy in his brother's face disappeared as he snorted in laughter at the jest, even if it was not an especially humorous one.
The King of the Seven Kingdoms shook his head, this time with a small smile on his tired face, "Alas, it is a far greater threat that forced me to take such drastic measures, for Alicent has not allowed an opportunity to slip by to show her displeasure regarding the results of the Great Council."
Despite the seriousness of the situation, Viserys's reply made Daemon smile in familiarity, a memory of their younger years, "Aye. I suppose that Rhaenyra is much the same. Though she might be confined to her chambers, she has shown that confinement does little to soften her temper," Daemon finished dryly. "She has called me a traitor for having betrayed her, thinking that I came up with the scheme to put Aegon on the Iron Throne."
Viserys stiffened then nodded in sympathy, "And Alicent says the same to me, claiming that I betrayed Otto's legacy… Truly, Rhaenyra and Alicent could be more alike than either would suffer to hear."
The king set the small tower back among its fellows, and for a moment his hand lingered there, for a moment before continuing, this time in a sadder tone, "Still, Rhaenyra's reaction is… unexpected. I… I had hoped that her blood sitting on the throne would bring her peace, or at least, consolation, of a sort." He froze for a few moments before speaking up, the words leaving his mouth as if he was confessing them, "I worry for her. I know that what she has committed was heinous, and yet, she is my daughter, and I love her."
There was little that Daemon could say that would help, for Viserys was right to be worried. He had also protected her from the brunt of her own actions. Her involvement in the attack was lessened as the king claimed, with proof from the main victim herself, that she was under a spell, while Daemon knew for a fact that she was not, that she had allied herself with the Red Priestess of her own free will. He had also distracted much of the anger that the realm would feel with the anticipation of the Great Council and the possibility of a new heir to the Iron Throne.
Had he not, there would have been many who would push for his wife's punishment, perhaps even riots on the part of the Smallfolk. Daemon knew that Jaehaerys the Conciliator would have arranged for her death without blinking an eye, former Crown Princess or not.
Instead of saying any of this, he simply shook his head, remembering his time with Rhaena and Baela, before answering, "It is the prerogative of a father to worry for his children, brother. I know this, for I worry for my own constantly. Speaking of my children, I assume that Aegon's new station is of your doing."
Viserys looked proud at that, "It was. I thought of the plan in a fit of clarity after Dragonstone. I saw the destruction that would follow our house, the war that my death would spark, and I refused it. I tried to find a way to unite both fragments of our house, both Rhaenyra's and Alicent's trueborn blood, and I realised that Aegon and Jaehaera would be the only way. Otto would have never gotten along with it, of course, hence my decision to remove him as Hand of the King and choose Rhaenys instead. After some thought, we concluded that I could not name him as my heir directly, not without endangering Rhaenyra. We needed the Lords to believe that the choice was their own, for them to respect it. We needed a Great Council."
The Rogue Prince did not react when Viserys spoke, for his description of a sudden clarity on Dragonstone was a familiar one, of seeing the destruction that the future held. It meant one thing: Harry Potter was involved.
Daemon feared that another Otto Hightower would have wormed his way to Viserys's confidence and was planning on using Aegon to their advantage.
It should have terrified Daemon. It should have made him wary for his son's sake to know that the sorcerer had been the one who arranged for this, who had schemed to ensure that his son would sit on the Iron Throne. After all, he knew that the Potters did not care for much of the affairs of the Seven Kingdoms, not like the vultures that made up the realm's nobility. And given the way they spoke with Rhaena and Baela, Daemon did not think that they would hurt a child. And it wasn't as if he could have stopped them either way, given the godly deeds that he had seen them perform.
Despite all of this, Daemon did not say anything and simply waited for his brother to finish, "It was not meant to happen so quickly, of course, but Rhaenyra's actions forced my hands. What I had planned was much… smoother. I would have invited you and Aegon to the Capital in the guise of spending time with his future bride, ensuring that they would both claim a strong dragon, and eventually squire him to a great knight of the realm. We would have waited for Rhaenyra to overstep in some way, to commit some great offence, and I would have removed her as my heir, and held a Great Council then. Rhaenyra… My daughter should not have suffered so, should not have been forsaken before the realm, all but branded as a traitor, and for that alone, I fear death, for I do not think that I would be able to face Aemma, not after I have failed our daughter so."
Daemon's brother was staring at the window by the end of it, and he decided to brighten the mood with something that he knew Viserys would appreciate, "I must admit, brother, that this was a feat worthy of the Conciliator. Gods, I do not even believe that our grandfather could have done what you have, especially just after an attack on the Capital."
Viserys waved his lone hand, though the Rogue Prince saw him almost preen at the compliment, "Perhaps the Gods favoured me. I was surprised at how remarkably well it went. Rhaenys claimed that she had the most trouble convincing the houses in the Crownlands than she had in most other kingdoms. She thought it strange how readily they jumped to give your brother a vote. I personally thought that they saw Aegon for what he was, a chance for peace in the Seven Kingdoms."
With the King's mood having been lifted, Daemon asked the question that had been plaguing him since his conversation with Viserys began, "Why did you not tell me, brother? Do you trust me so little that you do not think I could help you? Do you think so little of me to think that I would jeopardise my own son's rise as your heir?"
From the moment the Old King perished, Daemon had suffered Viserys's mistrust, starting with his refusal to name him his Hand, accepting that snake, Otto's, words above his own, treating him akin to an annoyance because he did not see that he was being manipulated by lesser men.
And so, Daemon turned from the window and faced his brother fully, the candlelight catching in his tired eyes.
"It was not mistrust that stopped me," the king said quietly. "I justified it to myself that I could not risk such delicate matters with you, as you are certainly hardly subtle with your actions. I said to myself that it was because if you pushed for Aegon's claim, you would do more harm than good, for you do not have many friends amongst the lords of the realm. But these were nought but excuses, valid ones, but excuses, nonetheless… The truth was that it was shame that stopped me."
Daemon froze, "Shame?"
"I was planning on usurping my own daughter's rights, ones that I have granted her, with her for her own son. I told her that she would be queen, swore to her that I would never replace her, and yet, I would go back on these words. I was ashamed of what you would have thought of me, for you would have called this a weakness on my part. You once said that I was a weak brother, and I suppose that a king who does not honour his words is a weak one indeed."
Daemon shook his head, "Perhaps, you were a weak king, Viserys, but you are not anymore. After all, would Vermithor, our grandfather's mount, have allowed a weak man to claim him?"
A small smile appeared on his brother's face, "I suppose you were right. Gods, when I claimed Vermithor, I would have sworn that the beast looked at me as our grandfather often did in our youth."
Daemon chuckled, and Viserys finally opened his mouth to continue, "A good reason why I felt comfortable with this plan, with all of this, was because of you. For I know that even if I did not tell you, you would protect your son from any threats in the realm, and all who would attempt to use our house to usurp him."
Whatever warmth the Rogue Prince felt at the compliment had frozen at the memories of the crazed look that his wife wore on her face since the Great Council ended. He decided then that he would ensure that she would not see Aegon for some time, at least until she was better. Perhaps it was wrong of him to think this, but he never would have imagined that Rhaenyra would have let a foreign witch trap him in his own flesh.
"I will do what I must," Daemon uttered, mostly to himself.
Viserys smiled at him, "Wonderful. Then you shall remain here in Court and ensure that Aegon grows into a great man, and an even greater king than even our grandfather. You shall be his sword, protecting him from the world, until he learns to brandish his own. For with that, I trust you above all others. What say you, Daemon Targaryen?"
Daemon did not speak, a part of him being insulted by the fact that Viserys was offering him permission to raise his own son, but he knew that it was not meant as a slight. Choosing not to start a fight and understanding the sentiment that Viserys's words were given in, Daemon simply nodded.
"I shall stay in the Capital," he said at last, not saying anything else.
Viserys stared at him for a few seconds before he stepped forward and brought Daemon into an embrace. He stiffened at first but relaxed eventually. It might have been his imagination, but he swore that he heard his brother murmur, "Welcome back, brother."
When Daemon finally left the solar, the corridors of the Red Keep felt more at home than they had for centuries, in a way that he had not realised since he had been banished for the first time. He wore a small smile on his face as he walked around the castle aimlessly, something that seemed to alarm almost anyone who looked at him. He ignored them, though the reactions amused him greatly. After all, how could he not? There was no mummery, no trap. His son would be king, and after decades, Viserys finally asked him to stay in King's Landing.
He would be cautious, of course, but he felt a faint sense of peace soothe much of the flames within him, which had been raging since his father's death.
Unfortunately, that sense of peace did not last long. For when he walked past the library, he heard a voice faintly muttering away in the distance, and while that would not have been unusual, the fact that the voice was familiar disturbed him.
Daemon wished that he was wrong, but as he entered the library, which was unguarded for some reason, he saw Harry Potter standing there, with dozens of books hovering in thin air around him. He noticed that most were written in High Valyrian, though the pages moved too quickly for him to read anything.
Why no one had tried to interrupt the obvious display of magic was not something that Daemon knew, and yet, that did not change what was before him.
The sorcerer turned to him and smiled, "Ah, Daemon. I was waiting for you."
That statement alone almost made Daemon shudder, "You… were… waiting for me?"
"Ah, yes. Sorry if this feels sudden or anything, but I need your help with something."
"What could I possibly do to help you?" Daemon asked in surprise.
"I need every piece of Valyrian History or Lore that you know of."
Daemon was surprised by this request of all things. Then he made the mistake of looking at the man; he saw none of the normal amusement that danced in his green eyes but pure seriousness, and that alone was a terrifying prospect.
Despite his better judgment, he couldn't help but ask, "What answers do you seek to find in them?"
"Very little, but I believe that they would help me find those who would have the answers that I seek."
"And who might these beings be?"
The sorcerer answered with a serious tone, "I suppose you would know them as the gods of Old Valyria, but calling them gods isn't exactly accurate, for they are the First Dragons, the Elder Dragons. They should know the answers to my questions. They were pretty knowledgeable last time."
Daemon's eyes widened in shock. That was certainly not something that he expected this day, but it was certainly not a quest for his ancestor's gods.
Then, the Rogue Prince suddenly stiffened when he realised something. Did Potter say, 'last time'?
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The Strange Impossibility of the Rogue Prince
By Archmaester Aemon of King's Landing
In my time in the Citadel, I have found that many of the annals of history are simply tales that the victors decide to be true. Given the privilege of a prince of the realm, I have toured many of the Citadels, and in recent years, have found many discrepancies between events that have been written since the Citadel's separation throughout the kingdoms of Westeros. In a way, this separation benefitted the propagation of the truth greatly, for one need only look at the different accounts from different kingdoms to find the truth.
It came as a surprise that the Rogue Prince had suffered such a fate. Daemon Targaryen was a strangely divisive figure for being nothing but a second son, a prince of the realm. In early accounts, the Citadel portrayed him as a madman who relished in violence and death, and that Ser Otto Hightower had saved the realm by convincing the King to name his daughter as his heir, as opposed to Prince Daemon, in fear of the younger brother striking him down, and plunging the Seven Kingdoms into war and death. That act alone had nearly sparked a way that took years for Viserys Targaryen to solve, though many consider that it would not have been possible without the chaos of the Year of Calamities, or 123 AC, which ended with the Second Great Council in the history of the realm.
I cannot claim to know whether this possible rift in the House of the Dragon was worth preventing Daemon Targaryen to be king, and the man certainly proved that while he was an able warrior in his conquest of the Stepstones, he was not an able administrator, having left the islands for ruin, to be taken once more by bold pirate kings once more.
However, many depictions written after the Great Council of 123 AC differed greatly, with the Maesters of Oldtown continuing to show concern for his potential influence on the heir to the throne. Most had expected that with Daemon's son, Aegon the Good, being heir, the rider of Caraxes would have seized control over the throne and burned his opposition. This was, of course, enhanced by his appointment to the Small Council as an advisor, as well as being given the title of the Sword of the Iron Throne, a new title at the time, which has been held by House Targaryen's greatest warrior, to protect their interests, a title that was later ceded to Aemond Targaryen.
The Rogue Prince later rose to become the first Master of War, a newly created position by King Viserys, with which he worked with Borros Baratheon during his conflict in the Stepstones and a small expansion to the Dornish Mountains. The Rogue Prince did not personally participate in either conflict, on dragonback or on foot, a strange contrast to the depiction of the man in his youth as a bloodthirsty warrior. Similarly, we saw no signs of attempts to start wars, even during his son's reign, in his later years.
I cannot help but wonder about the reasons for such a sudden change in temperament. It is known now that the Citadel had taken many liberties when writing the annals of history, and one can't help but think that this might have been another attempt. The Citadel's informal division after 123 AC led to independent agendas tied to their relevant kingdoms, perhaps not ones popular with the conclave at the time.
Still, I cannot help but wish to know who the Rogue Prince truly was, for the accounts changed greatly. And more disturbingly, I cannot help but doubt how much of our history was true, and how many liberties the conclave of Oldtown, before its dissolution, took to change our legacy.
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AN: That chapter really got away from me. I realised that I hadn't really done a proper conversation between Daemon and Viserys yet, at least one that portrayed their relationship like I imagined it was, which is a pretty strained brotherhood, while also showing a bit of their point of view regarding the Great Council.
I wanted to put a bit more of Harry in the end, but the chapter had gone on for too long, so I'm leaving it to the next chapter. Don't worry, I didn't forget that Harry has access to books from the Citadel and in Visenya's vault. It's pretty relevant, actually. As usual, please let me know what you think and if you have any suggestions.
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If you want to support me, check out my patréon at https://www.patréon.com/athassprkr
I tend to upload drafts of early chapters on there to get people's opinions on them, so you can read up to 20 chapters ahead as a bonus.
Thank you guys for your support in these hard times.