Chapter 4: Those Who Play the Game

Daemon

The news from King's Landing made him angry. The King, in a shortsighted act, had decided to marry Otto's spawn. No doubt the conniving Hand had sent his harlot daughter to seduce his brother when he was grieving, all so he could put someone with a drop of his blood on the throne.

He had warned Viserys many times that Otto was not to be trusted, but Viserys remained stubborn. Now the entire realm would pay for Viserys' willful ignorance.

You should be there for him, protect him from his enemies. The thought came unbidden.

The king exiled me from his court. Daemon bitterly answered.

Was he not in the right to do so? What father would not be wroth at your words?

Daemon remembered his words back then. Drunk as he was, he couldn't even recall the reason why he had said it. Was that truly meant as an insult? Or was he trying to grieve in his own way? Not even Daemon himself knew.

Knowing myself, it could be both.

Daemon certainly understood Viserys' anger, though not by his own choice. Daemon knew how it felt to lose a child. His own child was lost after a storm caught Mysaria's ship on her way to Lys. The difficulties were proven to be too much, and she gave birth to a stillborn.

An exile that was ordered by Viserys. The thought stoked Daemon's anger once more. What I said was wrong, but I had nothing to do with Baelon's death. Can Viserys say the same for my child?

Daemon took a long breath and calmed himself. The air in Driftmark was warm and salty, not unlike in Dragonstone. Only there was less brimstone smell here.

There was a reason he was here, on this island. He wasn't the only one scorned by Viserys' marriage to Alicent. Corlys and Rhaenys were no doubt scheming to marry Laena with Viserys, and the news must have angered them as much as it did Daemon. Perhaps even more. The fact that they didn't attend Viserys' second wedding was proof enough.

If he wanted to make his plan a reality, then the first thing he needed was a strong ally.

A servant brought him to one of the private galleries on the southern side. It was a rather small room, though richly furnished. Near every inch of the walls were covered in paintings and tapestries, with tables and racks made of sturdy foreign wood covered in a small collection of foreign baubles.

He saw Corlys and Rhaenys sitting inside with two of their children, Laenor and Laena; he thought their names were. Both of them bowed and greeted him before excusing themselves from the room. The boy looked unimpressive in his eyes. More peacock than a seahorse, much less a dragon. His sister was harder to read, but she seemed pleasant enough to the eyes.

Though all women looked pleasant when compared to his bronze bitch.

A stray thought caught Daemon's mind. "You have one more boy, don't you? The small one."

"We sent him to court as a page a few months ago." Corlys said as he poured Daemon a glass of wine.

"And he remained there?" Daemon asked, surprised. The Velaryons made a point to show their displeasure with Viserys' new wedding. Why would they leave their youngest son alone in the capital?

"We offered to call him back, though he'd rather stay." Rhaenys said, tone carefully neutral. Daemon felt there were things she didn't say, though he didn't prod. It wasn't a concern of his.

Daemon took a cushioned ebony chair for himself and tasted a sip of his wine. A younger vintage, light and sweet. The Velaryons always knew how to keep their cellar well-stocked.

"Speak plainly, Daemon. What's your purpose here?" Rhaenys asked, her tone sharp.

Daemon smiled. "I want a kingdom."

Corlys and Rhaenys stilled, and Daemon had to hold back a laugh. He was trying to court their support, and making them the subject of japes would not help him win their fleet.

"Clarify yourself." Corlys said.

"I'm not planning to usurp my brother, so no need to fret. Why should I, when there are plenty of empty lands to take? Why, there is even one nearby." Daemon said, letting them work out the rest.

They mulled it over for a moment before Rhaenys spoke again. "Surely, it isn't the Stepstones you wish to conquer?"

Daemon nodded with a smirk. "Precisely that. Those islands have been the domain of pirates for long, and lately more and more of them have come under the influence of the Triarchy. I understand they are no friends of yours."

Daemon looked into Corlys' eyes. "You desire to spite the Triarchy, and I want a kingdom for myself. Our goals are aligned. With both of our strengths, we can take the place for ourselves, and all the better if we deny it from the coin counters."

Corlys looked at him as if he had grown a second head. "That would be a mistake and a foolish one at that. No one had ever successfully subjugated those islands since the days of Old Valyria. There's a reason why only pirates call themselves lords there."

"Pirates." Daemon snorted. "Heh, 'pirates' is it? How many of them were truly such as they claimed, and how many were paid by the Triarchy's coffer to attack the ships of their enemies? Even I can see how Triarchy's ships are the only ones who can sail through the islands unmolested, unlike anyone else's. How many ships have you lost there, Corlys?"

Daemon could see Corlys was wavering. Rhaenys, though, remained unconvinced. "You think you can carve yourself a kingdom in that lawless corner of the world? You won't be the first one to try."

Daemon shrugged. "And how many who tried were dragon princes?" He took another sip. "None, by my reckoning. It's worth a try, and certainly better than trying to steal my brother's iron chair. And if it weakens the Triarchy's stranglehold on Narrow Sea trade, I doubt anyone would object."

Truth be told, Daemon couldn't care less about the copper counters. The Velaryons cared greatly about them, however. A substantial part of their merchant fleet passed through the Stepstones. If he wanted their support, then he needed to make sure they understood the benefit for themselves.

"Dorne may interfere. You'll find yourself hounded by enemies from two sides." Rhaenys said, still doubtful.

Something that Daemon himself had considered. The answer remained the same. "Let them. Their strength lies in their sand and sun. Should they dare venture outside, Caraxes will burn all of them like King Jaehaerys did atop Vermithor once. Nothing they can throw at us will be a match for your fleet and our dragons. As for holding it, once I make the call, sellswords from both sides of the Narrow Sea will flock to our banners, along with as many spare sons and hedge knights. We'll have more than enough manpower to hold all our gains."

The talk lasted longer than that, but that was a mere formality. In another sennight Corlys had gathered his ships and supplies for a campaign and begun formulating an invasion plan with Daemon.

They would invade the Steptones within two months, and Daemon could hardly wait.

Otto

The Hand of the King was prowling the streets of King's Landing. His mood was as dark as the skies above him.

Alicent had given birth to a healthy son. Aegon, she named him. What was a better name for a King of the Seven Kingdoms than the Conqueror's himself?

Otto was jubilant then. Bursting with pride and happiness for his daughter. With a son of their blood as the King of the Seven Kingdoms, then the Hightower would mark their ascend in history.

Except the son might not ascend to the throne.

Otto had subtly tried to prod Viserys' thoughts on the heirship, but the king had stubbornly refused any suggestion otherwise and kept Rhaenyra as his heir.

That would be absurd. All the laws of the Seven Kingdoms save for Dorne put sons before daughters. Viserys himself tried to sire a son and only appointed Rhaenyra his heir for a lack of one. Now that he was blessed with a son, he sought to ignore him? Truly, the mind of a king could be a riddle to ordinary men.

And to think I was the one who suggested Viserys name Rhaenyra his heir in the first place. Otto thought ruefully. At the time, his only concern was to keep Daemon away from the throne. Now that very decision might keep Aegon from his rightful throne as well.

Shortsighted, perhaps, and yet I never made any pretension of being a prophet. How could I've known that Alicent would be so wildly successful?

The problem would be to convince Viserys to retract his verdict. A peaceful man though he might be, he could be as stubborn as a mule when it came to certain matters.

The best way to convince Viserys was by gathering as much support from the lords as possible. Not even Viserys could ignore the overwhelming popular sentiment.

His first thought was of the Velaryons. Wealthy and influential, and dragonlords in their own right. Winning their support would be a windfall for Aegon's cause.

The problem was how to charm them into his cause.

Could he entice the Velaryons with an offer of marriage? With their dragons..., no, that was unfeasible. Even if the Velaryons had children of the right age in the future, it still wouldn't work. They were ambitious and wouldn't accept being second to anyone except the Royal House.

Corlys had allied himself with Daemon and attacked the Stepstones, something that had given them all something of a scare. What were they planning in those godforsaken piles of rock, he couldn't imagine. Letters from Daemon only said he would make himself a kingdom. The Velaryons, though, gave more substantial reports to the king. They had named Triarchy's backed privateers as the cause of the war and claimed they were there to protect Westerosi interests and subjects.

King Viserys allowed the war, claiming if a kingdom would calm Daemon down, then it was worth it. Though he agreed to withhold sending more substantial support for now.

Since the Velaryons had tied themselves to Daemon, it was unlikely he could convince them to join him. Perhaps if they were humbled in their war by the Triarchy, but for now, his only option was to court other lords. There were plenty of rich and influential lords in the realm. It would be the work of many years, but it must be done.

Which led to his meeting with this man. They had scheduled this meeting in advance, away from the prying eyes of the Red Keep. The affluent inn was carefully considered for its reputation for privacy and its thick walls, though Otto had taken many precautions to come here undetected.

Inside the room was a man familiar to Otto. His older brother, the Lord of Hightower, and the man whose support he needed to secure before he approached other houses.

Hobert looked like any other time before. His eyes were warm and friendly, and he smiled. He came to King's Landing to offer his congratulations for Alicent's first birth, though that wasn't the only reason he made a visit himself instead of sending a letter.

"Lord Hobert Hightower." Otto said

"Lord Hand." Hobert acknowledged him with a solemn nod. "I hope you weren't accosted by ruffians on the walk here."

The men looked each other in the eye before both burst out laughing.

"You and your japes, Hobert. Here I thought lordship would make you stern." Otto said, sitting on a chair.

"Oh, I am stern." Hobert answered. "I just see no reason why I should be stern to my little brother."

Both of them spoke in a hushed voice. Even away from the Red Keep, one must always be vigilant.

"You've seen the boy for yourself. What do you think?" Otto asked his brother, carefully omitting any words that might be construed as treasonous.

His brother tilted his head. "I'm no maester, but the boy looked healthy enough."

"It would be nice if his father acknowledged the matter of inheritance." Otto said with a sigh.

"He already did. That was the source of the problem. I swore an oath over it, if you recall." Hobert said.

"An oath that has proven to be more of a shackle. If only there was a way to do this with all our honour intact."

Hobert stared at the outside. The sky was dark, and the half-moon was near its zenith. "It's too early in the day for such a talk, Lord Hand."

"Now is as good as later. The earlier we prepare, the more ready we will be." Otto said.

Hobert exhaled. "You and your impatience. There is no need for such haste. Until the boy comes of age, the game is a waiting one. No one would rush to put a babe in swaddling clothes on the chair."

"And yet, if we waited too long, the chance might pass us by." Otto said.

They sat in silence for a few minutes. The night was silent, and no sound other than the barking of dogs could be heard from outside.

"No one told you not to do anything else as you wait." Hobert broke the silence, his voice set. "The Hightowers will not oppose you if you seek to prepare the ground for the boy's path to his chair, at least for now. However, make sure to do it with care. Keep yourself concerned with the peace in the realm. In this game we play, a careless gamble will cost lives."

Hobert rose from his seat. "I will stay in the city for a few more days. Take your time to think about what you need from the Hightowers and Oldtown. If it's within my power to grant, I shall grant it."

Soon enough, Otto was alone with his thoughts.

His brother was hesitant. He wished the natural order of the world to be maintained and for his blood to triumph, but not at the cost of bloodshed. At least not yet.

At least he had secured the tacit approval and support of his kin. A journey of a thousand leagues began with a step. Now he only needed to ponder which would be their second step.

Killing Rhaenyra will secure Aegon's heirship beyond any doubt.

He quashed the dark whispers of his mind. He wasn't so depraved as to kill a little girl over the throne. Besides, such a deed came with tremendous risk. Should his involvement come to light, it would not just be him who would pay the price.

And yet, no matter how hard he racked his brain, he still couldn't see a way to accomplish this bloodlessly. Even if he convinced every lord from the Wall to the Arbor to proclaim Aegon as king and Viserys agreed, Rhaenyra and Daemon would remain a threat.

The only sure way to put Aegon on the throne would be through war.

Otto leaned back in his chair and shook his head as he did his best to push that thought aside as well. War was a bloody, painful affair where parents buried their sons and widows wailed for their husbands. He would not be the man responsible for throwing Westeros into one. There was plenty of time still and many paths to try. He prayed to the Seven it'd be enough.

Rhaenyra

Rhaenyra was fuming as she landed on Dragonpit. Riding on Syrax had become a more and more common occurrence as of late, as it had become one source of balm for her mind. Flying distracted her from her mind, and yet they always returned in force once her feet were back on the ground.

Father's marriage to Alicent came as a surprise. She must admit to resenting it at first; the idea that her former lady-in-waiting would replace her mother was unacceptable.

It gladdened her heart to see that not everyone agreed with Father's choice as well. The Velaryons refused to attend the wedding, though Corwyn was unperturbed and represented his family all by himself.

Once the wedding was done and her mind cooled down, she thought it over. As much as the idea brought distaste to her mind, she could see the reason why her father remarried. Marriage was the mortar of alliances, and it was common for lords and ladies whose spouses passed away too soon to remarry.

She didn't have to like it, but she accepted it nonetheless and tried to be cordial with Alicent. Even if they would never be as close a friend as they used to be, at least they could remain companions. Alicent would never replace her mother, but they could still be a family of some sort.

Then Alicent bore a healthy son, and Rhaenyra had a premonition that all her effort was for naught.

Her mother died trying to give her father a son because a son was expected to succeed him. Now that he finally had a son, what would become of her?

She was not deaf to the whispers in the Keep. There were plenty who said that Princess Rhaenyra should be cast aside like a piece of old rag now that King Viserys had a son. It was time for the rightful heir to be acknowledged, as those vipers called it.

Rightful! If it was up to her, she would pull out all their treacherous tongues. Mother was Father's queen, and no one else. Only mother's blood should inherit the Iron Throne! Not her upjumped handmaid! What gave her the right to replace her mother? The ugly boy she whelped?!

Thankfully, Father proved himself resolute against these black whispers. He refused to retract his verdict, and he reassured Rhaenyra that she would remain the heir. It helped Rhaenyra's mind, at least for now.

If only that would stop their whisper.

"You look tired, princess. Perhaps you should rest a little before going to Grand Maester's lesson?" A concerned voice from behind her said.

Her loyal sword trailed behind her. Tall and handsome, and clad in all white. One of the few men Rhaenyra trusted. Her dashing champion, Ser Criston.

Rhaenyra waved away his concern. "No, I'm just having some deep thoughts. My mood has been dark lately."

"What thoughts?" He said it reflexively before his eyes widened. "Only if the princess desires to share her woes, of course. Kingsguard Knights are sworn to keep their liege's confidence."

The man was surprisingly naive about matters of intrigue. Blackhaven must be an oasis of honesty if he was their like. "Nothing, ser; it's just a matter of my status as heir and the burden within. I wish to be a great ruler once I ascend to the throne, and for that, I need to prepare myself adequately. The expectations sound daunting once put into words."

"It's a heavy thing, the duty as the heir to the kingdom." Ser Criston said. "I never expected to inherit anything more than a patch of land or my father's stewardship, but I don't imagine it a simple matter to rule over the Seven Kingdoms. Quite a heavy burden, and yet something you have to bear."

You have no idea, ser.

There were times when she wondered if it'd be better to simply give up. However, that part of her mind, which was as fierce and headstrong as a dragon, always rejected it.

We are dragons. We do not bow or run.

Talking with Ser Criston did help, at least. Even though she didn't confide in him completely about the matters closest to her heart, sharing with him a portion of the difficulties she faced helped alleviate some of them. Her mind was much lighter by the time they were back in the Red Keep.

There was another man who might help her.

She found Corwyn was already in the library, sitting on a chair by the window with eyes cast outside.

Granted, a man might be too strong a word.

"What are you doing sitting here by your lonesome, Corwyn?" Rhaenyra asked as she approached him.

Corwyn turned his head to her and paused before answering, "...Romanticizing my solitude."

Rhaenyra waited for him to elaborate until she realized he wasn't planning to. Corwyn did weird things like that sometimes.

It was an aspect of him that her squealing ladies-in-waiting didn't know. As far as they were concerned, he was just a handsome boy who kept winning his spars. Rhaenyra found herself sympathetic to him. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, they were what the world saw in their faces. No one cared about who they were inside. Yet the reality of the world meant lords and ladies were expected to present a perfect face at all times, lest they lose everything.

They all expected her to be a perfect girl, just because she was born a royal. They all saw her as a princess, but how many saw Rhaenyra?

A question came to her mind, and she chose to voice it.

"Hey, Corwyn?"

"...Yes."

"Do you ever wish to be the Lord of Driftmark?"

He glanced at her. "...No."

"Why? Don't you like the power? The land? The prestige?"

He gazed outside once again and, as Rhaenyra predicted, paused for a few heartbeats before answering.

"...Too much trouble."

Rhaenyra chuckled. She was envious of him, in a way. A second son who was blessed with no burden to carry and content with his fate. Unfortunately, such a path was not for her.

For Rhaenyra, her path was that of duty, her burden, and her right. And if Alicent dared to usurp her, then Rhaenyra would show her no mercy, friend or no.

Alicent

The baby giggled, and Alicent laughed at the sight. The most precious thing in the world, and to think Alicent used to dread his birth.

Little Aegon had learned to crawl a few months ago and had begun to speak for just a few weeks. The most beautiful boy in the realm. No doubt he would grow to be a strong and handsome lad.

"I will return him to his crib myself."

"Your grace." The young maid demured as she followed behind her. One of the few nursemaids assigned to Aegon by her husband.

She had doubts about the marriage at first. King Viserys was not a man she dreamed to marry, and she didn't expect her best friend would become her stepdaughter. However, now that she had settled on the role and with a little Aegon in the mix, she couldn't imagine it any other way.

Unfortunately, Rhaenyra wasn't as receptive as herself. At first, Alicent suspected her coldness was born out of fear that Alicent would replace Queen Aemma. Alicent had no wish for such a thing and tried to repair their relationship. She doubted they could return to the way they've been, but she made the attempt nonetheless.

It was proven hopeless after Aegon's birth. Rhaenyra began suspecting Alicent wished to usurp her position, and the damnedest thing was that Alicent couldn't gainsay her even in the safety of her mind.

Perhaps it was the mother in her speaking, but she felt it was Aegon who'd make a better ruler than Rhaenyra. For many thousand years, it was the kings who ruled Westeros, save for Dorne. Why should her son be different? As she put Aegon down in the crib, she imagined how he would be remembered as the Goldenhand and the Conciliator came again, and a smile bloomed on her face.

Her father seemed to think so as well. She knew he had sent men to announce Aegon's birth to every corner of the city and raven to every corner of the realm. It wouldn't surprise her if he had men whisper how much better it would be if Aegon were to be king in every tavern in Westeros soon enough.

A bit too early, mayhaps, but her father mislikes delaying his work.

The only problem was: would the rest of the realm accept Aegon? Would Rhaenyra step aside for her little brother? Would hotheaded Daemon let the realm be ruled by Otto's blood and not his? Would the Velaryons and the Queen who never was ever stopped their grasping ways?

She couldn't see any way to secure Aegon's throne peacefully, and therein lay the problem. As much as she loved her son, she misliked the idea of making him king by fire and blood.

On her way up, she passed the young Corwyn Velaryon. The boy had been proven to be a delight at court. His skill at arms and handsome look earned him many admirers among the younger ladies in Red Keep, and his openhandedness won him respect from his peers.

Alicent couldn't help but imagine her son would outshine him in the future. Aegon, handsome Aegon. The dream of every maiden and the idol of every boys.

"Corwyn." Alicent called to him. The Velaryons were no friends of Hightowers, though the boy had made no attempt to shy away from her. Perhaps he was too young to be in his family's confidence. "Now, it was a bit late for you to run about, isn't it?"

Alicent must admit her curiosity about what his purpose here was. His apartment was in the Longvault, quite a distance away from Maegor's Holdfast.

The boy gave a small bow of acknowledgment before answering. "Not so late, my queen. The Grand Maester saw me on my way from the Godswood and bid me to bring some letters to the King."

Alicent frowned. "He should've had his own servants bring the letters to my husband if it couldn't wait for tomorrow."

"I don't know the circumstances, my queen. However, I know such a duty was expected from a page." He said.

The boy was dutiful, which she could not disagree with. However, something about the boy always makes her uneasy. Perhaps those eyes of his, that always looked as if he were judging her.

"Best if I don't hinder you any longer, then. I'm sure you'd rather be in your chamber at this time."

Corwyn excused himself with a bow before he left, and Alicent went back on her way. She found her chamber not long after. Inside, she found her husband reading a letter by the candlelight.

"Grandmaester told you it's unwise to read in the dark, lord husband."

Viserys looked up from his letter and smiled.

"A single letter won't kill me, and a king has his duties even in the night."

Alicent kissed him on the cheek. "Perhaps you can save the letters for tomorrow, or trust them to someone else in your confidence?"

"I can, but it seems a waste after Runciter troubled Corwyn to bring them directly to my chamber." Viserys said.

Her husband was in a good mood, Alicent thought. She considered bringing up the matter of Aegon's birthright but thought better of it. Both of them were too tired for that discussion tonight, and pushing him might only make him more stubborn.

Alicent began to undo her hair as her hand found her favorite comb. "I brought Aegon to the crib. The boy was growing faster than I could've imagined."

"Along with his lungs." Viserys chuckled. "I can hear his cries all the way here, whenever he deigned to cry."

"I can hardly blame a baby boy for a healthy set of lungs, dear." She said. "I'm sure he will grow to be a strong man in the future."

"So it is." Viserys put down his letter and cut open a new one. "Feel free to go to sleep without me, my lady. I'm afraid I'll be held up for a bit longer."

Alicent sighed, put her head down on the pillow, and closed her eyes. With no sight other than blackness and no sound other than a rustle of parchment, she found her mind wandering. Her mind wandered to her child, husband, stepdaughter, and father. To the realm and her childhood home. Then her mind would inevitably be dragged into something less pleasant. To beasts larger than houses who flew despite their size and breathed fire, and to an endless sea of men clad in steel.

The future was so dark and uncertain, and she always fretted whenever she tried to imagine one, and yet it didn't matter. The future was malleable, and what truly mattered was the present. So Alicent Hightower willed herself to forget all her worries and let the dark claim her.

AN: I may have underestimated the decades needed to set up the Dance when I wrote this fic and have the story begins with the MC be a 5 yo.

When I started this fic, I have two choices. The first is to have the story begins at his childhood, and tell how he's slowly building his resources, fame, and alliance. The other option is to have the story jumped to the MC as an adult. While the latter is quicker to action, I will be forced to rely on flashbacks to justify almost everything.

Anyway, I already made my choice, so I'm going to live with the consequences.

Otto's big brother and the reigning Lord for most of the story was completely unnamed in canon. The show called him Hobert, and it was as good a name as any other, so I picked that.

Also the Longvault was the name I made up for the Maidenvault before Baelor chucked his sisters there.

The story is updated whenever I want to, though I do try to keep at least a chapter a week schedule.