Viserys was still weighing the matter in his mind.
Indeed, the marriage alliances had yet to be secured.
Revealing his intentions now would only give the Dornish time to prepare.
Then Lyonel spoke again.
“Those ‘pirates’ in the Stepstones are already tearing up the peace agreement. They will become allies of Dorne.”
“Once war begins, vultures will inevitably gather at the scent of blood. Another Harren will emerge as well.”
There were the self-proclaimed Vulture Kings who had risen time and again in the Mountains of Dorne, and another “Harren” was bound to emerge in the Riverlands.
Then there were the Iron Islands.
It had been a long time since the Iron Islands had sent gifts to King Viserys.
Viserys lightly patted his chest, and his rapid breathing gradually slowed.
“Lyonel, you’re right.” Gratitude showed on Viserys’s face.
Before the marriages were secured and his preparations for war complete, he should keep his intentions hidden and plan carefully.
He could not allow his enemies to glimpse what he truly intended.
Lyonel secretly breathed a sigh of relief, the tension easing from his back.
Whether it was fortunate or unfortunate, King Viserys knew little of war or military affairs.
Viserys ran a hand over his scar, his eyes shining.
“I have always longed to face a true trial.”
“To have it shape me into a different man, to live a different kind of life.”
Excitement stirred within him.
A passion he had not felt in years surged through his newly healthy body.
It flowed from his heart into every limb.
“Now the gods have given me that chance.”
“I, Viserys I, swear before the New and Old Gods that I shall become a Targaryen king remembered for his deeds.”
Lyonel kept his expression unchanged, though inwardly he shook his head.
The mild King Viserys had been completely carried away.
Conquering Dorne was hardly so simple!
Far more likely, Westeros would be dragged into a quagmire of war, leaving the realm strewn with corpses and grief.
And in the end, they would gain nothing but hatred.
Still, Lyonel kept his voice calm.
“Your Grace, perhaps we should concern ourselves with the marriages first?”
“Do you intend to take a daughter of House Hightower as your new queen?”
Viserys let out a long breath and nodded firmly.
Remembering the rumors circulating through court, Lyonel ventured, “Then do you intend to marry Otto’s…”
Viserys looked at Lyonel.
That look seemed to confirm his suspicion.
Lyonel understood.
“You intend to marry Otto’s daughter?”
Viserys answered at the very same moment.
Their voices overlapped in the Council Chamber, then fell apart.
“His niece?!”
Lyonel’s eyes widened.
Puzzled, he said, “Your Grace, I thought…”
He could no longer predict King Viserys’s thinking at all!
But the questions crowding his mind compelled him to continue.
“I thought you had feelings for Alicent Hightower?”
Words could be sharper than a knight’s well-honed blade.
Some people concealed Dornish vipers beneath their lips, with tongues capable of dripping deadly venom.
Rumors and malicious speculation about Alicent Hightower had never ceased at court.
A lowborn, big-headed dwarf had slanderously claimed that while Lady Alicent attended Old King Jaehaerys at his bedside and read to him, she had already given herself to King Jaehaerys.
No one would take the words of a fool and jester seriously.
But since Queen Aemma’s death, the rumors surrounding the king and Alicent Hightower had not arisen from nothing.
Viserys’s expression darkened.
“Sometimes, for the sake of the realm, I must restrain my own desires.”
Alicent was indeed beautiful, gentle, and considerate.
When Daemon angered him, she soothed his temper.
When he quarreled with Rhaenyra, she carefully carried words back and forth between them, helping father and daughter reconcile.
But even now, Viserys could not forget Aemma.
Aemma had left him two children, Baelon above all.
On that dreadful, blood-soaked bed, he had gained Baelon and lost Aemma.
Sometimes, when he looked upon Baelon’s face, memories of that day flashed through his mind.
Aemma’s fingers had clawed and struggled against his palm.
Their skin had been pressed together, and little by little, he had felt the movement of her hand weaken, felt her warm skin slowly grow cold.
Whatever affection he might have felt for Alicent, his guilt had kept him from taking another queen.
But now he had resolved to fulfill his duty for the sake of the realm and restrain his own desires!
Viserys spoke calmly.
“If the Iron Throne is to forge a marriage alliance with House Hightower…”
“Could there be a better choice than marrying Lord Hightower’s own daughter?”
A sense of foreboding rose within Lyonel.
He said carefully, “Lord Otto is your Hand.”
Otto had brought his daughter into the Red Keep, and the king had grown close to her, only to decide in the end that he would not marry her.
Instead, he meant to marry another daughter of House Hightower.
Otto Hightower would likely see it as a humiliation.
Lyonel was a tall man renowned for his skill in battle.
He had not ridden a horse, loosed an arrow, or wielded a lance or warhammer that day.
Yet after this conversation with Viserys, exhaustion and helplessness seemed to well up from the pit of his stomach.
He drew a deep breath, gathered himself, and continued his counsel. This story is hosted at g.com.
“Your Grace, the choice of a new queen must be made with care.”
“You should consider it further.”
Viserys was accustomed to accepting counsel.
Though a dragon’s heart seemed to have suddenly appeared within his chest, he still had the soft ears of a doe.
Lyonel had poured cold water on his plans several times.
Though displeased, Viserys instinctively began to hesitate.
Seeing this, Lyonel abandoned his usual reserve and immediately began persuading him in a gentle but earnest tone.
Viserys had never possessed an especially firm will.
Except in matters concerning his brother and his children, he was easily swayed and often struggled to hold to his own convictions.
The fervor for war that had burned so fiercely within him, along with his newfound resolve, began to fade with surprising ease beneath the words of the battle-hardened and learned Lyonel.
Viserys pursed his lips and said heavily, “I understand.”
“Lyonel, I will give it serious thought.”
Lyonel breathed a sigh of relief.
He felt as though he had just survived a fight to the death.
Even after winning only a small victory, exhaustion had already settled over him.
Viserys then asked the Kingsguard about the other prospective marriage partner.
“By the way, where is Rhaenyra?”
He instructed Ser Harrold, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, “Harrold, bring Rhaenyra to me.”
…
Godswood
Beneath the cool shade of the trees, Rhaenyra leaned back with both hands braced against the grass.
Through the gaps between the blood-red leaves of the Weirwood, she could see the bright, clear sky.
It was blue as a cornflower, or like water in the deepest reaches of the sea, pure and utterly unblemished.
A gentle breeze stirred Rhaenyra’s silver hair.
A smile played at the corners of her lips as she said softly to Cole, “Why so serious?”
“Come. Sit beside me.” She patted the soft grass beside her.
“My Kingsguard.”
Ser Cole’s eyes darted around.
“In the Godswood?”
“Rhaenyra, someone could come by at any moment.”
“What does that matter?” Rhaenyra gave him a sweet smile.
“Come, Criston. Enjoy the shade with me.”
Cole’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
He stopped resisting.
He slowly lowered himself onto the grass, sitting a fist’s width away from Rhaenyra.
At that distance, the two of them looked no different from an ordinary princess and her knight.
His caution amused Rhaenyra.
She laughed softly, her voice clear and bright.