Chapter Text
What if Otto Hightower did not wait for the morning to inform the King about the rumors of his heir in a brothel?
He had always been a patient man. But years of wait were nothing when faced with the realization that the King would never make his grandson, the firstborn Prince Aegon, his heir. No matter how much the nobility pressured him. No matter how people showed their displeasure over the prospect of being ruled by a half-wit girl.
So what better way to hammer the superiority of Aegon over Rhaenyra than to catch the Princess in the act? She might still be fornicating with that blasted Prince.
He didn't take into account how far the King would go to protect his daughter's reputation.
To say that Viserys was angry would be like saying dragons could breathe fire.
He had not imagined that his rest would be interrupted like this. But the night was still young, and if he got to castrate his brother if he found him touching his daughter, that would make his day. This was why he was utterly surprised to see a dark-haired figure on top of Rhaenyra instead of the wretched silver mane of his brother.
For a moment, he stood shocked. To his relief, both of them had not divested all of their clothes, but the sheer audacity of that shield touching his daughter...
"Get off of your Princess, you cretin!" He roared, and both figures sprung apart, panic evident from their faces. His Kingsguards fanned out in the room, two of them grabbing Rhaenyra's shield firmly by his arms.
"What is the meaning of this?! Have I died, or has the world come to an end to give you the authority to touch your charge?" He snarled at the man who was supposed to protect his daughter. To think that such treachery was going on under his nose with him being none the wiser...
"Your Grace," he stammered but was interrupted by Rhaenyra.
"Father! Don't touch him! He was doing what I ordered him to do." She pleaded with him. Viserys whirled around and grabbed his daughter by the arms.
"He owes his cloak to me! It is his duty to protect you, not to fall over you like a rabid dog, no matter what you- are you drunk?" His eyes widened, noticing the hazy gaze of his daughter. She hesitated to answer him, but he was beyond the threshold of his patience.
"Ser Harrold", he ordered the Lord Commander, "Ask the maester to send sweet wine to the Princess. She needs rest after such a long day. Ensure that no one is aware of what has transpired today, and inform Lord Hand to not open his mouth in front of anyone under any circumstances. As for that man", his lips curled in disgust. "Take him to the cells and lock him there for the night. Investigate his actions since he came into my employment."
Ser Harrold, to his credit, did not hesitate even for a second. He took charge of the room, ordering a maid to fetch the medicine from the maester and let his men drag the disgraced shield to the cells. Rhaenyra protested the treatment, but soon she was put to sleep, and Viserys returned to his chambers.
He had a long day ahead, and even if he was unable to sleep, he would still like to cool his head and gather his thoughts.
The first thing he did in the morning was to enquire about any passerby that might have been near Rhaenyra's room at the time of the incident. Ser Harrold rushed to assure him.
"Worry not, Your Grace. We have secured everyone that might have even an inkling of what happened.”
The man was hesitating. Viserys was still not in the mode to be patient. “What? Spit it out!”
He bowed. "Lord Hand is aware of the entire situation. What shall we do with him?"
“He will not say anything if I give the order.”
Ser Harrold was not finished. "Forgive me, Your Grace, but the reputation of a maid is a very delicate thing. One word whispered to the wrong person, and everything falls to ruin. Princess Rhaenyra has been my charge in the past, and I am duty-bound to remind you that even at his most loyal moment, Lord Hand stands to gain the most from this. Wasn't he the one who brought you the news instead of stopping Princess from going out?"
Viserys fell silent.
Now, he knew the man was his mentor and friend and supported him for many years. But Ser Harrold’s words watered the seed of doubt sowed in his heart from the conversation with his Hand last night. Men would not always hold their tongues when it came to the daughters of others, and no matter how Otto was loyal to him, at the end of the day, he was still a man.
Add in the fact that he was now the grandfather to a Targaryen prince…
He would deal with him if the situation called for it.
"I will take your words into consideration, Ser Harrold." He replied, massaging his head. "For now, locate my wayward brother, and bring him to me immediately. And don’t forget to shadow Rhaenyra. I don’t want a repeat of the last night.”
Before dealing with the pest, he should deal with his brother.
From how he looked, it was clear that Daemon was suffering from a night spent chugging wine like water. And Viserys was more than happy to add to his suffering.
He growled. “My daughter. Won't you even deny it?"
Daemon coughed, struggling to orient himself under his attack.
“I need to understand the charge before I can attempt to discredit it.” He replied cheekily. Viserys saw red.
“I don’t think I need to say anything,” he hissed, beyond incensed at this point. “So why don’t you open your mouth and tell me why you dragged the Princess, my daughter, your niece to a pleasure den? Oh, you have nothing to say now?”
It seemed that Daemon was not done testing his patience because his reply did nothing but increase his anger, which was already at unimaginable heights. "Oh, what does it matter, brother? When we were Rhaenyra's age, we fucked our way through most of the brothels on the Street of Silk.”
Really, that was the defense his brother came up with?
“We were young men. She is just a girl. Your niece!”
“Rhaenyra is a woman-grown. Better her-“
But Viserys had enough. He impatiently cut him off. "Oh, and I suppose her learning to fuck her shield can be attributed to you, then?"
His brother gapped, flabbergasted. Viserys smirked, finally having the upper hand in the situation.
“What, you thought she would come to you?” he mocked. “You cunt! You have ruined her! If it wasn't for me reaching her rooms in time, she would have been ruined beyond repair, and all you can think is that her situation could be compared to ours?"
Daemon squared his shoulders. "Who gives a fuck what some lord thinks? You are the dragon. Your word is truth and law. I have spent a lifetime defending you. Let me do it again. I want Rhaenyra. I'll take her as she is and wed her in the tradition of our house. It happened because of me, so I would take responsibility for it."
Viserys sneered, thoroughly fed up with the conversation. “Your heart is even blacker than I thought. Even at this time, you are thinking about your benefit.”
Silence rang in the hall. Both of them were angry. None wanted to step back.
However, it seemed that Daemon finally conceded to him. “Where is the Shield that touched Rhaenyra?”
Viserys gave him a side eye, still too angry. “What, so that you could avenge your missed opportunity?”
Daemon remained silent. The King dismissed him.
“Get out. Just, get out of here. Don’t let me see your face. I can’t deal with you right now.”
His brother left him to stew in silence. The day had just started, and peace was nowhere to be found for him.
Gods, why couldn’t he get some respite today?
It was a good thing that he had ordered Kingsguards to shadow Rhaenyra. Otherwise, he would have never learned his beloved goodfather had opened his mouth in front of his daughter.
And Alicent had the gall to confront Rhaenyra out in the open. They were lucky that the area was secluded; otherwise, the entire city would have been discussing his daughter's virtue.
Viserys had taken all precautions to ensure no one would learn about the night’s event. All the servants accounted for, and guards swore to silence; there was no chance someone could even hear a whisper about it. Yet, it was his wife and goodfather who threatened to undo all his work.
His wife came to him again to provide comfort to him. He was in no mode to entertain her, so he turned her away from the door, not giving her even a chance to come in. Instead, he issued another order to confine Otto to his chambers. No one was allowed to meet the man unless he gave the permission.
Viserys was fed up with his subjects disobeying him. If a gentle approach did not work, he would exercise his power to the fullest then.
The conversation he had with Rhaenyra was painful in many aspects. While he admits that he should have done better to bridge the ensuing gap between himself and his daughter, he had hoped that she would come to him to relay her fears. And, yet, he was still too angry to do much about the matter at this point.
Rhaenyra was insistent that she was the one who invited Ser Criston to her bed, not the other way around. He scoffed. If the man wasn't willing, he would have refused. His daughter had not fallen to the point of forcing herself on others. She may have done many stupid things, but forcing men to copulate with her? Not her nature.
So he made it clear to her that while he applauded her sense of loyalty and kindness, the man was responsible for his actions and would be punished no matter what she said. He steamrolled all her protests and informed her that she was to marry Laenor Velaryon and end her courtship period. He shut down the conversation entirely when she dared to say Otto's name. He was his problem to deal with, not hers.
Having made it clear to Rhaenyra that it was high time she married and to a candidate of his choosing, Viserys went to Otto to deal with him. The man in question was pacing the room akin to a caged animal. Upon his entrance, the man whirled around, mouth open to no doubt say something, but quieted when he saw him.
“Your Grace.”
Viserys stared at him for a moment.
“Five days.”
“I'm sorry, Your Grace?”
“Though it was some time ago. The details, they fade in memory. My father was a hale and healthy warrior and dragon rider at the peak of his abilities. Jaehaerys named a great royal hunt to celebrate him being named the Hand of the King. Five days later, my father lay dead.
Tourneys last longer. Baelon the Brave, rider of Vhagar, heir to the Iron Throne... dead of a burst belly. The gods have a dark wit. It was a grim day.”
Clearly, his Hand was not aware of what he was trying to say.
“I recall it all too well.”
His lips twisted in dark humor. “Yes. It was a good day for you. Jaehaerys named you Hand in Baelon's stead.”
The man protested. “That's hardly how I viewed it, Your Grace. It was a duty.”
The King was not finished.
"You served my grandsire nobly in his final days. You are the man that taught me how to be King.”
“Oh, you honor me, Your Grace.”
Viserys sighed.
“Just five days, you went from being another man in Jaehaerys's court to the second most powerful man in the realm. I wonder,” he mused. “How long did it take you to choose yourself over your King?”
“Your Grace?” he inquired. The man was panicking. He had hidden it well, but Viserys could see the signs of it.
“I will never recover from Aemma's death. But Alicent, she took me through the worst of my grief.”
Viserys narrowed his eyes.
“She was a calculated distraction. I only now realize how well-calculated it was.”
His Hand was still trying to protest. “That is an absurdity. The Queen loves you, as I know you love her.”
Love? Hah! What a joke. Having Rhaenyra shadowed inspired him to do the same with his wife after the altercation between both women. And the information it yielded…
His wife loves him? More like she behaves like a victim if he had forced himself on her.
But he could ponder on that later. Later, he would talk to his wife. For now, he had to prepare for Rhaenyra’s marriage and, before that, oust Otto from his position. So he returned back to the conversation.
“Your interests no longer align with those of the realm. Your judgment has been compromised.”
"A loyal Hand must tell his King a discomforting truth from time to time, Your Grace. If he doesn't, he's failed as a servant.”
"And is a loyal Hand supposed to disobey his King's orders after they had been given?" he commented dryly.
“Sire-“
“No,” Viserys cut him off. “Not today. I am not in the mode to listen to your honeyed words. Did you, or did you not, inform the Queen of the events of that night after I had explicitly ordered you not to do so?"
The man dithered. He lost his patience and roared. “Well, did you?”
He lowered his head. “Yes, Your Grace.”
“And how many others have you told? How many times have you opened your mouth despite being forbidden to do so?”
“No one, Your Grace.”
The King’s lips twisted. “I find it hard to believe you.”
He took a deep breath.
“You were a faithful servant, Otto. The crown and the realm both owe you a debt that can never be repaid. But I can no longer trust your judgment.”
He squared his back. "You will no longer hold the position of Lord Hand. I was of the mind to banish you to Old Town before, but now, you will not be allowed to return until it has been investigated who else you have informed about the circumstances. Until then, you will remain confined to your chambers. Without my permission and knowledge, you will not be allowed to meet anyone, not even your family."
He stepped back, turning away from the disgraced man. “Be grateful for the mercy I am showing you, Ser Otto. No father would have dealt with the person who tried to tarnish the honor and reputation of their daughter as calmly as I have done with you.”
Now, the only thing left was dealing with that damn dornishman.
To say that the man had an… interesting defense would be akin to saying that dragons could breathe fire.
The sheer audacity.
Viserys could hear every word his personal guards rung out from Ser Cole. The man was still insistent that it was Princess who seduced him, not the other way around. After many repetitions, the King stepped in front of the man himself.
“So my daughter seduced you, Ser Cole?” he asked, struggling to maintain the calm in his voice.
The man was too tired to lift his head. The confessor, however, had no mercy for him as he jerked his head by grabbing his hair. "Look up at the King when he is addressing you." he barked.
Viserys reiterated his question.
"The Princess seduced you? That is the defense you want to go with, Ser Cole?"
The man may have bravado when facing the confessors, but in front of him, he had wilted. Viserys cared not. Having listened to his statements had made his blood boil. He was not in forgiving mode.
Finally, the man opened his mouth. Not without some "encouragement."
"Sire," he trembled. "Forgive me, but I had no choice. Princess Rhaenyra is as much my charge as she is my master. I am honor-bound to obey her."
The King sneered. "So if the Princess orders you to jump off a cliff, would you still obey her?"
"But if I had not obeyed her, I could have lost my station and life!"
A mocking laugh erupted from his throat. "And now you will not, Ser Cole? Do you think now you will walk away with your life intact, let alone your employment?"
The man was desperate, it seemed. "I stand to lose everything by disobeying her!"
"What would you have lost, prey tell? Your life? Your employment? Your honor, that you were lamenting about just moments before?"
It seemed that the cunt wanted to say something but held his tongue. Viserys, however, didn't stop.
"Let's take an account, shall we? Princess Rhaenyra cannot kill you. She does not have a big household. She does not have any ladies in waiting nor any other guard who explicitly obeys her orders and would keep her secrets other than you.
If she has you executed out in the open, she would invite scrutiny over her actions. On the other hand, she does not have the means to have you killed off quietly. So your life was quite safe.
As for your employment, she cannot dismiss you from Kingsguards. They are employed under me, and she has no authority over their terms of employment. She would have to come to me and present a suitable reason that would, again, not encourage others to wag their tongues over her actions. So your employment was also not in danger.
Your honor? Do you think a girl of ten and seven summers can somehow force herself on you, a man of twenty and eight summers? A slip of a girl triumphing over a man of your musculature in a physical altercation? Who would have helped her in this endeavor? Other than you, there is no one who she trusts implicitly.
So really, Ser, what exactly did you stand to lose by refusing her?"
The man was growing frenzy at that point. "Believe me, sire, she was the one who seduced me. I would never sully my cloak like this. Even if she could not do all of that, she could still have me imprisoned over false charges!"
He scoffed. "Really, Ser, I would have expected it from anyone else but not you. You have been protecting her for many years. Has she indicated that she would commit any of the despicable acts we have discussed? Is her nature that cruel that she will reward years of loyalty with such treachery?"
No answer. He continued.
“But let's say that she can do all of that. Let us suspend the belief that all of that is possible. Tell me then, won't you decry her if she dies anything to you? Wouldn't you be able to present your defense against any charges she might come up with? When that happens, what do you think will happen to her?
Rhaenyra Targaryen is the heir to Iron Throne. A woman inheriting the power in the world of men. Any word against her virtue, against her honor, will not only see her disgraced but also disinherited and exiled. A man making such claims about her, the man who is her most trusted shield, what do you think, Ser Cole? What would happen?
In the end, who will stand to lose more?”
The wretched cunt lowered his head, unable to face him. But Viserys wasn’t finished.
He chuckled.
“Do you know what is the most amusing thing about the entire situation, Ser Cole?” this time, he was the one to lift the man’s head by grabbing his jaw. “Even when she stands to face disinheritance and invite the shame of realm upon her, the Princess still advocated for you. She remained steadfast in her loyalty to you, claiming that she forced you, but we both know that is not the reality, hmm? You could have ignored her, denied her advances. No, you entered her room and crawled into her bed with full intention and consent. If you weren't greedy, Cole, you would have done anything but obey her at that time." He hissed.
"And here you are, blaming Princess, who is still frantically trying to reach out to her meager contacts just for your sake. I wonder," he mused, ignoring the ashamed expression growing on the bastard's face. "What would happen if it reaches her ear that the man she is trying to protect and rescue so fervently is trying to save his skin by throwing all the blame on her." he finally smiled, seeing the guilt on the prisoner's face.
But that wasn’t enough. He wanted the bastard to suffer.
He jerked his head and stepped out of the cell. “Ser Harrold,” he called out. “Inform my brother that he is welcome to do whatever he wants with this man. But he is to ensure that the man dies as quietly as possible. No one is to learn of this.”
The man bowed and went on to carry out his orders.
The disgraced shield was quietly disposed of a few days later, just as he had ordered. Rhaenyra protested, but Viserys told her everything the man said. She felt betrayed, but the King refused to console his daughter. This would teach her a lesson she would not forget for years.