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Viserys should have known.
"He wouldn't protect you, I would." Daemon's voice echoed in his head as he stared down at his old friend. Hah, a fucking friend wouldn't whore out his own daughter for his sick ambitions.
Otto Hightower was a tall man with lank auburn hair, a slightly crooked nose from the one time Daemon had managed to get out his frustrations with the former Hand in a more physical form. Daemon knew how to pack a punch in more ways than one, even almost twenty years later, Otto's nose was still slightly curved to the right and a small fingernail length scar could be found at the very tip of the man's nose where the Maester had snapped the nose back in place.
"Well?" Viserys asked the then silent room, "is there anything you'd like to say for yourself?"
Otto reddened and his jaw clenched but he stubbornly stayed silent. His daughter twitched next to him and in his rage, Viserys focused his anger on her. Perhaps it was wrong, perhaps it made him something of a coward to take his anger out on a girl who was only sunturns his daughter's elder and her dear friend—no, definitely not Rhaenyra's friend anymore. Like any dragon, Viserys knew that Rhaenyra would not forget this slight—this betrayal— for as long as she had the ability to take in air. Perhaps this was why he, himself, was so angry.
He had been betrayed. Betrayed by the very man that his brother, his wife, and his father had warned him about. Hells, even Rhaenyra had mentioned that Otto wasn't a good man in that bluntly innocent way of hers. Though his daughter had been referencing how he looked at her mother—
"Do you have something to say Lady Alicent? You seemed so eager to talk with me before now," Viserys murmured eyes on the lady. She was pretty in the plain way that all Andal women tended to be. None of the fierce fire that the women of his family were so known for could be seen in her countenance as she shrunk before his gaze, the navy of her gown highlighting the gray pallor of her skin. "Your mother was quite comely in that dress." How did I not notice that it was the late Lady Hightower's dress?
That comment was the one that got a reaction from both parties. Alicent reddened as her father straightened, his eyes showing none of the nervous uncertainty that had lingered in his pale green eyes before but rather an intense disdain and hatred. "The man is a snake Viserys," Aemma's voice murmured to him from a memory long ago, "he seeks his own gains and the ruin of House Targaryen. How can you not see it my love?" He had dismissed her at the time, somewhat annoyed that once again Otto was being slandered by a member of his family but the look in the man's eyes now showed that he was the one who had been blinded by the falseness of his friendship.
"Alicent was just following my orders Your Grace, surely she should not be punished for the greed of her father?" Ah, so that was his angle, leniency for his whore daughter. "The princess—“
"My daughter sees Lady Alicent as the whore that she is."
"Your Grace I—“
"Silence child!" Viserys snapped. "I find it quite amusing that while you would ask me to ignore the Lady's transgressions because of your greed that you would ask mine own child to shoulder the consequences of the same greed. And what if I did find 'comfort' in the embrace of your daughter?" Alicent flinched as Otto's jaw clenched even further. At his back, Ser Harrold shifted, the clinking of his armor thunderous in the quiet of the King's solar. Old Harrold had been more of a father to Rhaenyra than he had been for the past few years, Viserys knew. Another mistake to fix. "Say I bedded and bred your little harlot who was just following orders hmm? You expect me to believe that you would not push for your daughter's child—if such get was a son—to usurp her claim?"
Confusion showed in Otto's gaze then. "The princess is a daughter. The realm needs an heir Your Grace. A son," the man emphasized as if Viserys did not know what his own seed had produced, as if he was not aware of what the realm thought it needed, as if he did not know what he had become a kinslayer for.
If only I had opened my eyes sooner. If only I had listened to Aemma, had properly looked at the way she was withering away under the pressure from the court, the pressure that came with carrying dead child after dead child, the weight of his dreams. She had been dying before my very eyes for years, Viserys thought. Mellos' blade struck the death blow but she had slowly been marching to Balerion's gate on his orders for nigh on a decade.
"The realm has an heir," Viserys said to the soundtrack on Harrold's shifting armor once again. Vaguely, he wondered what the Commander of the Kingsguard thought about his decree. Was he happy that the little princess that he had carried in the armored chill of his arms as a babe would sit the Iron Throne or was his lined face set in dissaproval? "I am the dragon, my word is law. You forget—you all forget—that it is House Targaryen that conquered Westeros and lifted you squabbling useless Andals from the pits of your stupidity into one union, one nation. I am the king, and all laws of the land are mine to write, rewrite, and interpret as I see fit."
"The realm will never accept a girl", Otto spat the word, "as heir."
Viserys shrugged. "Mayhaps. But you will not be alive to see it," with a snap of his fingers, Ser Harrold was behind Otto Hightower whose face had slackened in shock. "For treason against your liege lord, I, Viserys Targaryen, First of my name, King of the Andals, First Men, and the Rhoynar do hereby sentence you to death." Visery paused before adding, "if you're right about the realm not accepting my daughter as their rightful queen, you can say I told you so when I bypass you in the seven hells."
"Your Grace!" Alicent Hightower cried, now on her knees, her navy skirts wrinkling against the cold stone of his solar. "My lord father is a faithful servant of the realm, he has served House Targaryen faithfully and with honor—“
"Did I not tell you to silence yourself child?" Viserys roared. "Your father is a traitor and will die for his crimes! If he was so faithful to me then he'd be honoring my late wife instead of looking to replace her." Viserys turned to where Ser Harrold was still holding the frozen form of Otto Hightower, meeting the old man's eyes he could have sworn that the Lord Commander was looking at him with a respect that he'd normally seen directed towards his errant younger brother. "Ser Harrold, see that Otto Hightower is placed in the Black Cells and his daughter placed under guard in her chambers. No member of the Hightower's household shall be allowed to send any letters and Ser Otto shall have no visitors except the two of us, my brother" that got a flinch from Otto and a gutteral moan from the Lady Alicent, "and the Lord Confessor. Anyone seen to be communicating or visiting with the former Hand shall be held in the Black Cells on suspicion of treason."
"Your will shall be done Your Grace," Ser Harrold grunted. "Lady Alicent, follow me please."
"No!" The lady screamed. "You cannot do such a thing to my father to our family! Please," Alicent grabbed Viserys shirtsleeve and he grunted, flinging her to the ground where she sprawled in a puddle of tears and skirts, "please have mercy, your grace—“
"I do believe that my brother told you to be silent," a voice drawled from behind him. Viserys didn't have to look behind him to know that Daemon was leering menancingly at the scene that he had walked into. He wondered how long his baby brother had been lingering in the walls, waiting and watching to see how this confrontation would play out. As he had grown up with the man at his back, he was not surprised when Daemon showed up out of the blue just as he had two days before during the Heir's Tourney with no indication that he was even thinking returning from his self-imposed exile in Lys.
The other occupants who weren't used to Targaryen princes turning up any and everywhere with the exception of Ser Harrold had very different reactions.
Alicent shrieked while Ser Harrold blinked in surprise and Otto finally began to struggle against the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. "Your Grace," Otto rasped, eyes wide in fear as he glanced between the King and the man all called the Rogue Prince. "I offer my sincerest apologies for upsetting you," the snake began and the dragon's blood that had been steadily simmering beneath his skin erupted into a boil.
Viserys Targaryen was never really one to rage and give into fits of fancy or passion like his daughter or his brother. The dragonsong that was the lullaby of all Targaryen dreams was normally muted for him, a distant echo that he could ignore but now? Now, his fury was so potent and raw that he could not help the snarl that ripped itself from betwixt his teeth.
"Upset?" The laugh he let out was both mirthful and bitter all at once. "Upset? No Ser, you hath betrayed me and my trust. I shall have your ashes decorate my chamber pot so that I can shit on you from beyond the grave." Viserys waved a hand at Ser Harrold whose eyes had widened in shock once against at his kings words. "Take the cunt to the Black Cells."
~**~
"I never thought I'd see the day," Daemon laughed with a note of almost hysterical glee tinting his voice. "The cunt ousted at once! Good job Vis, truly." The prince toasted his king with his second goblet of Arbor Red that Daemon promptly drained.
The two royals were sitting next to the roaring fire that Daemon had created in Viserys bedchamber. Viserys rolled his eyes in exhausted amusement at his brother's happiness before the ghost of the smirk that had temporarily graced his face left.
"If only I had listened sooner. To all of you but especially Aemma," Viserys rasped, throat tight. The flames before him were both a comfort and a torment. "I killed her—“
"Aemma died in childbirth Viserys," Daemon's hand landed on his knee and squeezed.
The laugh he let out in reply was watery. "Aye, and on my command."
A moment of silence and then, another squeeze. "You wanted an heir and she wanted to give it to you."
You wanted an heir.
"I did want an heir. One I never needed if I only...well, you were right. You were both right. I should have given her a break, I should have recognized what I had right in front of me." Viserys cleared his throat, "but you misunderstand me brother when I say that I killed Aemma. I mean it…I—“
"Viserys you—“
"No!" He snapped, "listen damn you! I killed Aemma, I let Mellos cut her open for a fucking child that did not survive the hour," Viserys gasped as the hand squeezed his knee once again, tighter this time. "A fool I was! The fool you always said I was. Chasing dreams and not reality and now my daughter is without a mother though gods know I took Aemma from Rhaenyra long before I became a kinslayer in pursuit of greatness that I see now was a warning." He was openly crying now, the words thick in his mouth but forcing themselves out anyway. "We never had any time for her, our daughter. I always sent her away to her maids and Aemma never had any energy these last few years to do more than brush her hair. Ser Harrold has been more of a father to Rhaenrya than I ever was. He, a kingsguard! The blood of the dragon runs thick and I took it for granted!
"My daughter is all that is left of Aemma and if she finds out about what happened to her, I won't even have that. Not that I deserve it."
"We shall not tell her," Daemon murmured and smirked solemnly at him when Visery's eyes snapped to his. "You are at fault for what happened to Aemma as you gave the order," another squeeze of his knee before Daemon released it and sat back in his chair. His brother glanced at the fire before looking back at Viserys, his face grim. "But if you think that gray rat was not plotting to put an end to Aemma one way or another then you are still the fool you say you regret being."
"What do you speak of?"
Daemon raised an eyebrow and then swallowed, jaw clenching as he held Viserys gaze. Viserys saw the uncertainty in his brother's gaze and felt a wave of annoyance rock through him.
"Well," he demanded. "Speak damn you, Daemon!"
"I've always spoken and you've never listened since that—“ Daemon cut himself before suddenly standing up and pacing before the fire. In profile, his brother looked like the images of the shadowcats Viserys had once seen before come to life. "Do you really think Mellos got the idea to cut Aemma open by himself? Hells Viserys! The man only has one healing link and he's the one the Citadel sent to care for the ruling house?" Daemon spat. "The fucker is obviously incompetent and the gods know that I wouldn't be surprised if the bastard was poisoning Aemma this entire time!" Daemon raised a hand as Viserys opened his mouth to say something—anything—as his mind worked furiously. "It is quite a coincidence that Mellos always parroted everything that the former Hand said isn't it? The man did not have a single original thought at all? And how interesting that the night of the queen's funeral that said Hand sends his maiden daughter who is the closest lady to the royal family thanks to his overt maneauving to distance the crown from House Velaryon, our blood," Daemon emphasized with a sharp glare at Viserys that had the King shrinking back in shame, "to 'comfort' the king in his time of need."
Viserys swallowed, mind whirring with the implications of his brothers words before Daemon's bitter laughter shook him from his thoughts. "By the gods you're actually listening to me!" His brother's eyes were bright with tears. Daemon laughed again, a small broken thing. "Grandfather told me to protect you and gods know I tried even though all you sought to do was send me away! To the Vale, to ragonstone, everywhere but by your side! And now that there are only three remaining members of House Targaryen left, now that you've damn near brought our house to the brink of ruin with your foolishness, you listen? I hope our ancestor's ashes are swirling in their urns from shock!" Daemon rolled his eyes before kneeling before Viserys. "I need you to think Viserys! How long do you think Rhaenyra would have lasted if you married the Hightower bitch and she shat out a male heir?"
"You heard—“
"Your decree that Rhaenyra would succeed you? Yes, I did. I was coming to check on you after seeing to Rhaenyra who was all in a frenzy that her only friend--and isn't that suspicious that a fucking princess has only one lady?--was in her father's rooms all alone in a gown that revealed more than that of a maiden should? I ran here you imbecile to make sure you weren't sucking Hightower’s—“
"I'm still your king you arse!" Viserys snapped, cheeks reddening at Daemon's vulgar implications.
"Aye and that's the second reason I've allowed you to banish me and disrespect me over and over again," Daemon retorted. At Viserys' incredulous look, his brother once again rolled his eyes. "You have no standing army, no dragon, no fleet, the smallfolk call you Viserys the Foolish because of how often you heed the Hightower instead of your own mind, you have basically made an enemy of the Velaryons who have two dragons just as we do and the Vale because of my conduct to their precious Rhea Royce."
"The lords would come to my call," Viserys protested feebly even though he knew that wasn't exactly true. They would not come to protect him but rather to keep Daemon away from the throne. And even then, it would only be a few lords, those who had been deliberately humiliated by Daemon, others who did not like him but had never come under the Rogue Prince's ire would dilly dally their way into neutrality, if not join forces with Daemon out of fear of the man.
"You don't even believe that," Daemon snorted. "And you'd be wise not to. You've proven yourself to be weak and ineffective at ruling anything beyond a feast. Rhaenyra would never allow such disrespect as you do. Furthermore, she has a dragon and has no qualms about reminding people of such a detail. She's intelligent and resourceful if a bit naive and spoiled. Though that's all our faults." Daemon paused and there was something melancholy about him as he stood in front of the fire all of a sudden. "You were right about one thing though," Daemon murmured.
"Oh?" Viserys queried, interest piqued.
"Yes," Daemon murmured half turning to look into the fire but Viserys recognized the action for what it was: shame. Daemon hated admitting when he was wrong and the few times he did admit to such, he avoided making eye contact as if doing so would cause him to catch the Shivers. "I am not fit to be king. And neither were you."
"Yes, I've noticed." Viserys muttered dryly. It seems that that was all he'd noticed.
Viserys cleared his throat feeling invigorated for the first time in a while. "So what do you suggest we do?"
Daemon studied Viserys for a bit and just as Viserys began to squirm he broke out in the smile that Viserys hadn't seen since they were just young boys, the crooked smile that showed his gums and made his brother look damn near a boy again.
"First, you get yourself a dragon. It would help your health—yes Viserys I noticed." Daemon sighed in exasperation at his brother's surprise. "There has never been a Targaryen king without a dragon and there's a reason for that. You've been sleepwalking since Balerion died and rotting in Andal traditions besides. A house of old Valyria rules Westeros and you'd do well to remember such a thing. Next, make a decree that only Targaryens get a dragon and only those who are either in the line of succession or married into the family shall have one. Jaehaerys was a cunt to his daughters but he was right that daughters should not have dragons unless they're married into the family."
"The Velaryons aren't going to like that," Viserys pointed out. "Even now, Rhaenyra tells me that all Laena Velaryon talks about is Vhagar and how she wishes to tame her."
Daemon shrugged. "Tough shit. She'll have no dragon, why does she need one? She's a Velaryon not a Targaryen and Laenor should have never had one either. The only reason he does have one is because Rhaenys was our grandmother's favorite grandchild and the Good Queen convinced Jaehaerys to give the child an egg. Don't misunderstand me I have nothing against our cousin or her whelps but you cannot deny that Rhaenys has turned bitter and jaded and just as scheming as her husband."
"We also cannot deny the roll I played in that too."
"Sure," Daemon sighed before sitting down again. He held his goblet aloft as Viserys poured them both more wine. After taking a sip, Daemon continued, "But it's not as if the lords were ever going to let her become queen and I don't think it had much to do with her gender. Even then, at the council, there was whispers about how amenable you were and not in the good way, mind you. But there were even louder whispers about Corlys and his ambition. How he dared to think that the throne was owed to him!" Viserys saw his brother's hand tighten around the stem of his goblet before he scowled darkly at Viserys. "No one wanted the Sea Snake anywhere near the throne. His wife was the dragon, not Corlys and while some people may hate our fucking guts, they refuse to bow before any not named Targaryen. I knew that and so..."
"And so you disregarded our grandfather's orders and raised an army and had Caraxes shriek upon Harrenhall's towers for hours on end," Viserys said awe and gratitude welling inside him. "Thank you brother, I knew that you were influential," no one wanted to fight against Daemon even at nine and ten, "but I didn't know how much."
Daemon's eyes widened in shock at his brother's words before narrowing in suspicion before softening once again. "Don't sell yourself too short. You are charming when you want to be." Viserys snorted and gestured with his cup for Daemon to continue. "But yes, I knew that if Rhaenys sat the throne, it would be House Velaryon that would take over our family dynasty no matter what she said. And grandfather knew it too that's why he thanked me for it afterwards."
"What?"
"Aye, the old cunt called me to his room and told me that while he knew I was unhappy", Viserys couldn't help but chuckle at that. Saying Daemon was unhappy about the Great Council of 101 was an understatement, it was one of the few times that Viserys was surprised that Daemon did not actually turn into a dragon. "As I was saying," his brother continued dramatically, that crooked smile gracing his face again, "Jaehaerys called me to these same rooms and told me that he was proud of me for standing by your side and helping sway the vote in your favor. It turns out that before I arrived, the Old King sent out servants to get a read on the lords and it seems like the vote would have still gone in your favor but closer than Jaehaerys wanted it to be. The bastard admitted that he was wrong to call the council which is how I knew that he'd be dead within the year if not a little over."
"Daemon!"
"What? We all saw how the life got sapped out of him after the Good Queen died. Anyhow, he made me swear to protect you and help you keep our dynasty alive and pure. He also told me something interesting that you never did all these years that I was your unofficial heir."
Viserys' heart stopped.
"The Song of Ice and Fire ring a bell?"