Maegor's Holdfast, The Small Banquet Hall.
In the hall, Viserys, sitting in the primary seat, fell into a long silence.
How could he not know that Daemon was planning for Young Aegon?
Daemon said, "We are Targaryens. The blood of the dragon has its own laws. For us, maintaining purity of blood is a necessary means of dragonriding."
"Rhaenyra..." Viserys finally spoke, his voice weak.
"Does she know you... betrayed her?"
"I have never betrayed her," Daemon replied calmly.
"I am merely loyal to my family, loyal to House Targaryen, loyal to my own blood."
"Rhaenyra can make those... compromises, those dangerous decisions, for the sake of her children. And I... I will help her correct them, catching her before she slides into the abyss."
Viserys stared at his younger brother, trying to read the true intentions beneath that face.
"You still have two daughters," the King suddenly asked.
"Baela and Rhaena. They also bear the name Targaryen, and they have dragons... Aren't they to marry Lucerys and Joffrey? Have you planned for them?"
A momentary crack appeared in Daemon's expression.
"I will find a way. But not now. Now, we must first stop the most pressing matter."
Viserys let out a long sigh, the sound rattling in his chest.
"Tomorrow..."
"Tomorrow, upon the Iron Throne, I will amend this decision."
"Jacaerys's betrothal is canceled; I will announce the betrothal of Young Aegon and Helaena..."
"This villain... let it be me. If Rhaenyra is to resent anyone, let it be me."
Daemon nodded and stood up, vanishing into the shadows.
-------
The Tower of the Hand.
Meanwhile, in the study at the top of the Tower of the Hand, the candlelight burned throughout the night.
Otto Hightower sat behind the desk, handling affairs of state.
Larys Strong stood before him, leaning on his cane, silent, quiet, patient, and lurking.
Hand Otto asked while looking at the documents in his hand, "Do you think the new Grand Maester, Orwyle, is reliable?"
Larys smiled slightly and replied.
"He is fifty-two years old and specializes in pharmacology and anatomy, which is quite a high honor among Maesters. More importantly, he owns three properties in King's Landing, a house in Oldtown, and has investments in Lannisport."
"Furthermore, he has three mistresses and five bastards."
"Once a man has so many attachments, he tends to become... compliant."
Otto finally looked up, his white beard shimmering like silver in the candlelight.
"You have done well."
"I have merely done my utmost, Lord Hand," Larys bowed slightly.
"After all, what we need now is not an old fogey, but a Maester who knows how to prepare potions and knows how to cooperate with us. Besides, His Grace is in pain now and is unable to make clear-headed decisions..."
Just then, the study door was pushed open.
There was no knock, no announcement, not even the sound of footsteps.
Aemond Targaryen walked in just like that.
Seeing who it was, Larys immediately lowered his head.
"Your Highness. It seems you have matters to discuss with the Hand; I shall take my leave."
"Wait."
Aemond watched Larys, who was about to leave on his cane, and suddenly spoke out.
Larys stopped in his tracks and looked at the Prince with a smile.
"Maester Mellos's death," Aemond spoke slowly.
"Was it related to you?"
The room fell silent.
The smile on Larys's face did not change in the slightest.
"Why does Your Highness say such a thing? Maester Mellos was seventy-four years old and passed away peacefully in his sleep a month ago."
"I am asking you." Aemond approached him, towering over the Clubfoot.
"Was Mellos's death by your arrangement?"
The silence this time was even longer.
Larys looked up and met Aemond's gaze.
"I am merely serving the Greens with all my heart, Your Highness. Maester Mellos was too old; his thinking had become rigid. Sometimes, certain changes require a little push."
Aemond stared at him for a long time. Finally, Aemond nodded.
"He was my teacher, after all."
The Prince's voice was very soft, carrying a trace of almost imperceptible complexity.
"But you are right; he was too old, too stubborn."
"Thank you for your understanding, Your Highness."
Aemond turned around and walked toward the desk.
"Dismissed."
Larys bowed and turned to leave with his cane. The sound didn't completely vanish until the study door closed again.
Otto leaned back in his chair and said, "You frightened him."
"No." Aemond looked at Hand Otto and said, "He is quite bold, daring enough to kill his father and brother. Mellos's death? Was it you who arranged for him to do it, Lord Hand?"
Otto was silent for a moment, then said, "It was he who proposed it to me."
Aemond said no more and smiled.
"Sit." The Hand pointed to the chair opposite him.
"You didn't visit late at night just to question Larys, did you?"
Aemond sat down and spoke straightforwardly.
"Grandfather, have you had the new Grand Maester give His Grace so much milk of the poppy?"
Otto's brow furrowed deeply.
"Maester Orwyle says the milk of the poppy is necessary. Without analgesics, His Grace wouldn't last even a day."
Aemond suddenly asked.
"What do you think of a Regency?"
Hand Otto nodded and said, "His Grace is already incoherent. For the sake of the Seven Kingdoms, it is the best choice. However, with Rhaenyra being the Heir Apparent..."
Aemond said coldly, "Then let my mother, Queen Alicent, act as Regent for the King lying on his sickbed."
"Rhaenyra doesn't dare stay in King's Landing... If she insists on staying in King's Landing, all the better."
Otto's brow furrowed, considering the implications.
"Let Mother be Regent first," Aemond continued, his voice dropping to a whisper, "and after he dies..."
"We will amend the will."
Hearing this, Otto took a deep breath.
-----
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