The morning light of King's Landing was deceptive, painting the Red Keep in shades of gold that masked the rot within.
In the Tower of the Hand, Otto Hightower finished sealing a parchment. He handed it to his nephew, Lyonel Hightower, with a heavy look. "Get this to the rookery. Your cousin Aegon needs more than just gold; he needs eyes and ears. Learn from the Grand Maester how to command the ravens—your future depends on it."
As the boy scurried away, Otto adjusted the Hand's badge on his chest and made his way to the Small Council chamber.
The Small Council
Otto entered the room with his head held high, his boots echoing on the stone. He picked up his ceremonial jade ball and placed it in its slot with a sharp clack.
"My apologies for the delay," Otto said, his voice instantly seizing control of the room. "Let us begin."
"The King has not yet arrived, My Lord Hand," Lord Lyman Beesbury noted, his voice strained.
Otto spared a glance at Beesbury. A flicker of cold, lethal intent passed through his eyes. Lyman was a direct vassal to House Hightower, yet the old man stubbornly championed Rhaenyra and the Blacks. If you will not listen to your liege, Lyman, you will eventually have no ears at all, Otto thought.
Ignoring the Master of Coin entirely, Otto turned to Ser Tyland Lannister. "Does the Crown have pressing administrative business before His Majesty joins us?"
Tyland, sensing Otto's mood, played along. He rolled his own jade ball between his fingers. "The Dornish are becoming a nuisance. They aren't just harassing Aegon in the Stepstones anymore; we have reports of raiding parties in the Reach and the Stormlands. They are testing our borders."
"Dorne only moves when they sense weakness," Otto replied. "We should respond with steel, not parchment."
"Lord Hand! Lord Tyland!" Lyman interrupted, his face turning a mottled purple from being ignored. "His Majesty also—"
"What are we discussing?" Viserys's voice boomed from the doorway.
The King entered with a wide, almost manic grin. He looked healthier than he had in months, his face flushed with a vigor that seemed out of place.
"We were discussing the Dornish threat, Your Majesty," Otto said smoothly. "The 'Prince' of Sunspear needs a reminder of why the dragons rule."
Viserys waved a hand dismissively as he took his seat. "Dorne is a desert of sandstorms and heat. They don't have the stomach for a real war. Put it aside. I have far more joyous news."
The King's face wrinkled into a mask of pure delight. "I have decided on a change of plans. The seventh day of the seventh month is a holy day. I am moving Rhaenyra and Daemon's wedding to July 7th."
The room went silent.
"Your Majesty," Otto said, his voice low and cautious. "July 7th is already the date set for Prince Aegon's engagement to Princess Helaena."
Viserys's smile didn't falter. "Exactly! Why have two celebrations when we can have one massive triumph? The more joyous the occasion, the better for the realm!"
Otto stared at the King. This wasn't just a scheduling conflict; it was a disaster. Aegon and Rhaenyra were irreconcilable. Forcing their most sacred milestones onto the same day was like throwing wildfire into a hearth.
"I must advise against this, Sire," Otto tried one last time. "Staggering the dates allows for proper honors to be paid to both your heir and your eldest son. Combining them invites... friction."
"I am the King," Viserys said, his tone suddenly sharp. "I am issuing an edict. It is settled. My family will be whole again."
Otto sighed softly and leaned back. He looked at Tyland Lannister, who was about to speak, and gave him a sharp, warning glance. Tyland closed his mouth.
Otto realized two things in that moment. First, Viserys was beyond persuasion; he was drowning in the hope of a peaceful legacy. Second, this might be the perfect test. He wanted to see if his grandson, Aegon, possessed the "regal charm" of the Conqueror. If Aegon could hold his own against the combined weight of Rhaenyra, Daemon, and the King on his own turf at Dragonstone, the war was already won.
"As you wish, Your Majesty," Otto said.
"Hoo—Hoo-hoo!" Viserys let out a long, shuddering breath, his face turning a deep red before settling. "Good. It's settled. I'll have Rhaenyra and Daemon prepare the grandest gifts. They will go to Dragonstone personally to show their goodwill."
Viserys truly believed that if Rhaenyra bowed her head just an inch, Aegon—the boy he thought had no ambition—would embrace her. He envisioned twenty dragons flying in a single formation, an invincible House Targaryen.
Otto watched the King with a trace of pity. Only Viserys still believed in peace. Every other lord in the room knew the truth: no one entrusts their life to the mercy of a rival. Aegon would never let Rhaenyra's sons live if he took the throne, and Rhaenyra would surely put Aegon's head on a spike the moment the crown touched her brow.
The "Peace of Viserys" was a glass palace, and the hammers were already swinging.
30+ chapters are available now and daily updates! @patreon.com/Authorzero
Patreon access is now just $9.99!