The air in the room grew heavy and still.
The king's words came almost inaudibly:
"Do you mean to kill them? Jacaerys, Joffrey, and Lucerys?"
"No, no, no," Daemon straightened and waved his hand. "I mean… what if the three children willingly renounce their inheritance, don black cloaks, and take the Night's Watch to guard the borders of the realm?"
(To join the Night's Watch meant voluntarily giving up one's family claims, forgoing marriage, and dedicating one's life to guarding the Wall.)
He spread his arms and smiled at Viserys.
"Think, brother. If they wish it…"
"Publicly swear the oath, renounce the name Velaryon and the inheritance of Tidewater, and go to the Wall to become glorious guardians of the realm…"
"Then all problems are solved."
"First, the inheritance crisis on Tiddalhead will be resolved, and when Corlys awakens, he can appoint other Velaryons as heirs."
"And Rhaenyra's children and I will remain pureblood Targaryens—silver-haired, violet-eyed—and none in the Seven Kingdoms will dare question the lineage of her heirs."
"Second, the nobles are kept in check."
"See? These contested heirs voluntarily renounce everything they have for the stability of their kingdom for life."
"It preserves my daughter's status as heir and respects ancient tradition and law."
He smiled—a perfect smile—but a chill ran down Viserys's spine.
"Perfect," Daemon whispered. "Isn't it?"
"Then she will understand it is necessary."
"She will learn that sometimes sacrifices must be made for a higher purpose."
"She is the heir; she must know this."
Viserys shook his head.
"Do you really know her, Daemon?"
"Rhaenyra loves those three children."
"A mother's love for her flesh and blood."
"This plan cannot fail…"
Daemon remained silent.
After a long pause, he spoke softly.
"Aemond…" Viserys finished the thought for him.
Daemon turned, smiling cynically again, but the warmth was gone from his eyes.
"Let him return to his fief."
"He should not come back to King's Landing without summons."
"Let him remain on the lands for a few years to grow stronger and gain experience."
Daemon smiled.
"It's too easy, almost like rewarding him."
"Did I say something wrong?" Daemon approached the king, looking down from above.
"What is this Dragon's Hold? That fief you gave him?"
"There he trains soldiers and builds fortresses. And speaking of dragons… he now has two."
"You sent him back to Moonspire Fortress so that the tiger returns to the mountains."
"That is to give him time to grow and gain strength."
Viserys looked at his brother.
"Then what do you want?"
Daemon paused for a moment.
"Just as I did when I exiled Maegor," he said.
"Send him to the Eastern continent. Pentos, Valantis, Lys… whatever."
"He is my son!" Viserys exploded. "My blood and bone! You asked me to exile him? Forever?"
"If you do not exile him, the consequences could be far worse."
"Brother, look at him today."
"Thirteen years old, standing before the chaos of the Imperial court and my sword, calm as ice."
"That mind should not exist at such an age…"
Viserys closed his eyes. He knew Daemon could be right. How could he not?
"Yes… yes! Agreed! Move him!"
Their faces were close, breaths mingling.
"If you do nothing, it will not be long after your death…"
"Then your heirs will ride dragons and destroy each other."
He grasped Viserys's hand tightly.
"Dragonfire will consume the Seven Kingdoms; the city will turn to ash, and thousands will die."
"Your children will be burned or fall from the skies…"
"Is that the outcome you want, brother?"
"A kingdom destroyed by Targaryen civil war?"
Viserys trembled. He wanted to pull his hand away, but Daemon held it firmly.
"You must go down there."
The king finally felt powerless to speak.
"Let me… think again."
Daemon stared at his brother for a long moment.
This love—so immense and heavy—almost crushed the already frail old man.
Finally, Daemon released his hand and slowly rose.
"But you cannot stop—because if you stop… everything falls."
The door opened and closed again.
Daemon's footsteps faded down the corridor.
Viserys remained alone in the room. Twilight had fully descended. The king sat motionless in his chair.
The pain in his left hand burned hotter, like fire, but he barely noticed—it was the pain in his heart that overwhelmed him.
At that moment, a faint sound echoed from the wall.