Chapter Text
Otto Hightower had always prided himself on being above all, an intelligent man. It was after all by his own merit that he had risen to the position he held today. He a simple second son was the hand of the King, the second most powerful man in all the realm. One could even go as far as to argue the most powerful, as the King himself diminished every day that passed.
As the King’s ailments worsened, he had began to attend less and less council sessions. Leaving Otto, the loyal hand that he was, the duty of leading them. In contrast to the growing norm however, the King had announced he would be attending the day’s council session. An announcement that immediately had Sir Otto Hightower on edge.
What had happened? It wasn’t a sudden improvement in health, Otto knew that for certain. The Hand had made a point of staying abreast of news on his Kings health- as abysmal as ever.
Neither had there been any recent scandal in court large enough to catch the Kings attention. Otto spared a moment to worry whether word of Aegon’s ineptitude earlier in the year had finally crept into polite company- but no. He had spent enough gold to keep that quiet.
Otto sat straight backed in his chair to the Kings right. Stubbornly refusing to make eye contact with Tyland Lannister, who had blatantly been shooting him questioning glances since they had all arrived. The Westerner could not rely on Otto to tell him everything. Of course Otto himself wasn’t entirely sure what was going on either, but it served him no benefit to share that. Best let Lannister believe he had angered him somehow, perhaps his grovelling could prove useful.
“I received a raven from my daughter, the Princess Rhaenyra.” King Viserys wheezed, looking like the stranger loomed in his shadow.
Otto was the man’s elder, but one would not be able to tell looking at the two men. Time and the gods had been most cruel to the Targaryen monarch, whereas they had clearly blessed Otto for his good service. Viserys’ once lush sliver hair was now but the odd lank stand clinging to a wrinkled head, and the Kings teeth which had in the past been so quick to grin, were now blackened and broken. A part of Otto felt pity for the man who had long been his dearest friend. Unfortunately for Viserys, that part was outweighed by other emotions- namely ambition.
The Hand of the King was not blind to his own aging, he was long past his prime, he knew. His once bronze hair was threaded with grey, and thinner in places than he would like. Yet he still stood tall, not stooped by age. Nor had time carved too deeply her lines onto his face. He had looked older than he was for most of his life, fittingly so for the position he held, and thus did not look so changed now.
If the gods were to punish a Targaryen, it seemed cruel that is was Viserys and not his brother. After all if there grievances were over the families sins, had not Daemon committed the lot? And yet somehow that accursed rogue had changed little over the years. It would not surprise the Hand to hear the Prince had made some kind of untoward bargain with some hellish power in order to maintain such appearances. Daemon had always been vain like that.
Otto took a moment to privately curse internally at hearing the Princess had managed to get a letter to her father without Otto reading it first. She must have sent it to one of her husband’s contacts in the city. He would have to be more diligent in wiping out Daemon’s agents, they were like rats.
Otto would never do anything as foolish as destroy a letter, or change it. That was the scheme of the young and unpracticed. Forgery was far too easy to prove.
“I’ll speak plainly as I lack the energy for prose. She requests that I legitimise the natural son of my brother, Aemon Snow.”
The council chamber erupted at once in cries of outrage. Seasoned men of law transforming into Flee-Bottom rabble in a bar brawl.
“Your grace this is a preposterous request!” Cried Tyland Lannister, the blonde fool turning as red as his house colours.
“First he weds your daughter without your permission, and now he fathers a bastard? Your grace this is an insult!” Lord Wylde declared, banging his fist onto the table.
“On what grounds are these demands made? Should we all try are hand at lunacy?” The Master of Lords continued with a scoff.
Otto restrained the instinct to sneer at the blatant way the man outed his own sinful produce. Gods knew he had more than plenty of legitimate children (and wives) what need did he have for creating bastards (or time).
“My king I must agree with my fellow councillors, this is a very bold request indeed… Not to mention I find myself shocked that the princess would be so willing to legitimise the product of her husband’s affair. Are we certain this request is truly her will and not… The result of intimidation?”
Otto made a point of speaking softer than Lannister of Wyld had, lest the King think he was insulting his precious daughter. He learned that lesson the hard way. Still that did not mean he would miss the chance to draw further shadow over Daemon’s character, and who knew perhaps he wasn’t far off. For all the Princess had flaunted her own affairs before her late husband, he highly doubted she would appreciate the same treatment- especially from Daemon. Rhaenyra had always been possessive of his company even as a girl.
“My Lords, you misunderstand… Please calm yourselves and let me finish.” Ordered the King, his shaky tone diminishing any controlling effect his words might have had.
“Rhaenyra writes that the boy is already seven and ten, putting his conception when my brother was still wed to the late Lady Royce… Daemon was unaware of the boy’s existence as he was raised by his mothers kin” Viserys continued with laboured breath.
A child of seven and ten years and the mad fool was only claiming him now? Otto was not one for crassness (he’d leave that to his grandson) but even he was tempted to say bullshit. There was more to this he decided. Daemon was not a complete idiot, as much as Otto may hate to admit it. So why would he risk claiming a bastard now, when he was already on such thin ice with his ridiculous marriage stunt with Rhaenyra?
Again his thoughts strayed to recent events, surely something had happened that had spurred Daemon to this action. Otto refused to believe the lie that Daemon had been unaware. Viserys maybe happy to choke it down out of naivety, Rhaenyra out of pride, but Otto was better than such foolishness.
“…the two of them came upon the boy after he managed to claim the Cannibal. Marvellous is it not? I’m sure my brother is bursting with pride. Rhaenyra already seems quite fond of him from her letter.”
There was the event in question, Otto thought somewhat smugly, he knew this was no random choice. Legitimising your bastard was certainly one way to ensure their loyalty, and it was clear now why Daemon was willing to risk further hit to his reputation. The Cannibal was a monstrosity of a dragon, one that made even Vhagar look tame in comparison. Otto shuddered to think of the character of the boy capable of mastering such a beast. Likely his father’s son, if not worse, he decided.
The Cannibal had never been claimed, and for good reason, it had earned its name feasting on hatchlings of its own kind. Rumours of the beast were vast and varied, they knew not how old it was or where exactly it had hatched. Some even speculated it had come with the Targaryen’s when they arrived at Dragonstone. Otto did not believe the beast was quite that old, Balerion after all had been the youngest of the dragons that set flight from Valyria, and there had been no mention of another hatchling. More likely, the Cannibal had hatched in the years between the Targaryen’s arrival and their conquest. That period was less documented, and it would make sense with the beasts last known size.
Now how to manage the situation… Daemon and Rhaenyra had the boy currently, and had made their claim clear in the legitimisation request. He doubted attempts at having the boy killed would bare much fruit. Dragonstone was already a fortress, and he expected the two would be keeping the boy close at hand.
Otto fought to keep the frustration off his face. Truthfully he did not know how to take control of this, a feeling he had not been burdened with in many a year. He lacked far too much information. How had he never heard of this boy’s existence? He knew of both of the bastards his idiot grandson had sired (no doubt there would be more in the years to come, at least his fertility was proven). Daemon was no stranger to pleasure houses, as the realm was well aware, and Otto had made a point of checking no seeds had born fruit. It was as if this Aemon Snow had appeared from no where, but that was impossible.
“Rhaenyra has offered to escort the boy here. So that I may meet him in person before I make my decision… I’m inclined to agree to this request, as it will allow me to get a measure of the young man’s character… And it has been far too long since I have gazed upon my daughters face…” Viserys got a far away look in his eye, clearly lost in memories of years past of his daughter and late wife.
Otto could take offence at the man’s clear devotion to his first wife, but his daughter’s marriage had never been intended as a love match, so he focused his thoughts on more important matters.
It was clever of the Princess to suggest a visit to the city. The King had been requesting her return for several moons now, years even, but until this she had stubbornly refused.
Other than the odd comment on how disappointing the Princess’ absence was, Otto had refrained from addressing this. Why would he, when it benefited his own plans so much.
Reluctantly Otto admitted that perhaps having the boy brought to Kings landing was for the best. He would be able to gather far more information from the visit than what he had now, and the boy would be much more vulnerable to the possibility of assassination outside of Dragonstone.
Not to mention his presence at court would allow Otto to take in the boy’s character for himself. As much as he may loathe the thought of working with the son (a bastard one at that) of Daemon Targaryen, the boy could prove useful. Bastards were known for their greed and ambition, and if Otto could promise that siding with the greens would benefit the boy more- perhaps he could gain another dragon rider for their cause.
“I believe that’s a wise decision your grace. Invite the boy to court for a while so that you can observe his behaviour. This isn’t a decision that should be rushed or taken lightly…” Otto agreed with his King smoothly. To the visible shock of some of his fellow councillors.
“Wonderful! I knew I could count on your advice on this Otto… Maester Orwyle if you could write a letter to my daughter summoning herself, my brother… And his son I would be most grateful. I find myself growing tired… I think I will take my leave for the remainder of the session my lords. Otto I trust you to handle things in my absence.” Viserys said before hobbling out of the room with the aid of the lord commander.
“Of course your grace” Otto agreed.
He would handle everything.