Marriage

POV: Viserys Targaryen

The Small Council chamber was quieter than usual when Viserys entered. The candles crackled in their holders, and the maps on the table patiently awaited the hand that would decide the fate of men and kingdoms. Everyone stood as he crossed the door: Otto Hightower, as serene as ever; Lyonel Strong, imposing and discreet; Mellos, hands clasped on the table; and the elderly Lyman Beesbury, cleaning his glasses with a cloth.

—Please, sit—said Viserys, taking his seat at the end of the table. His voice was not harsh, but it carried a new edge, tempered by heavy decisions.

Once seated, Otto was the first to speak.

—Your Majesty, we appreciate you meeting with us this morning. What we must discuss cannot be delayed any longer.

Viserys nodded without enthusiasm. —My daughter's marriage.

A reverent silence filled the room. Mellos cleared his throat, but said nothing. Lyonel kept his gaze fixed on the tapestry in the background. It was Otto who broke the pause.

—Rhaenyra is the heir to the kingdom. She must have a husband who strengthens her claim. Someone who will unite his blood with the crown's… without question.

—And who does the Hand of the King suggest?—Viserys asked, his fingers interlaced.

Otto adjusted his tunic before speaking, as if he wanted every word to fall with the weight of lead.

—Aegon.

The air froze for a moment. Even Mellos frowned, and Lyman blinked in confusion.

—Your son, Aegon—Otto continued, his voice measured—. He has the blood of the crown. He is the closest legitimate male to Rhaenyra. By uniting them, we seal the succession. We join the two branches and avoid future disputes.

—Aegon is four years old—Viserys replied, more tired than upset.

—Your Majesty—Mellos intervened with a prudent tone—. It would not be unusual. In Targaryen history, many betrothals have been made from the cradle. Rhaenyra can wait. Aegon will grow.

—And in the meantime?—Lyonel Strong spoke, his deep voice entering the conversation—. Shall we leave the realm to watch an heirless princess for a decade? Shall we wait for a child to grow into a man while the nobles sow doubts?

Otto turned slightly toward Lyonel, without losing his composure.

—And do you propose a better candidate, Lord Strong?

Lyonel met his gaze calmly. There was no venom in his voice, only reason.

—I propose Daron Targaryen.

Viserys narrowed his eyes, expectant.

—Daron Targaryen, son of Baelon—Lyonel continued—. He rides Cannibal, the most untamable dragon of them all. He has proven his courage, loyalty, and skill. He has earned the respect of the nobles and the love of the people. A strong man, with bravery and determination. Not just because of his blood, but because of what he has done with it. And with him, Rhaenyra would have a husband who would reinforce her authority and reign.

Lyman raised an eyebrow, thoughtful.

—Isn't it a bit risky?—he asked—. Don't we fear the people might see him as a threat to the queen's authority?

—No, Lord Beesbury—Lyonel replied calmly—. The people already see him as a Targaryen. His legitimacy was confirmed by the king himself, and his bond with Rhaenyra is well known. By marrying them, we would consolidate the unity of the family and the kingdom.

Otto frowned slightly.

—Is that really what's best for us? A man so popular, so... unpredictable? Rhaenyra needs stability, not a consort who could stir up power struggles.

—He wouldn't stir anything, Otto—Lyonel interrupted—. Daron is loyal to Rhaenyra, to his family. And he has the strength to protect the realm. He's exactly what Rhaenyra needs.

Viserys leaned back in his chair, letting the words float in the air. His thoughts spun.

Aegon? A four-year-old boy… I can't wait a decade for him to grow. But... Daron? He's already a man. He already has his dragon. He has the courage and the skill to rule by her side. And Rhaenyra respects him, she cares for him...

He thought again about how Rhaenyra had spoken of him. How her eyes had shone when Daron was near. The way they both shared that rare, that... natural connection. But, was it best for the kingdom? For the future of the Throne?

Viserys closed his eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of the crown he carried even outside the halls of the Throne.

What does my daughter truly need?

The murmurs among the advisors quieted when he realized he had spoken aloud. He looked at them, and his gaze focused on Otto.

—Thank you, all—he said with a firm voice—. I need time to reflect.

He stood up without waiting further and, with a slight gesture, ended the meeting.

Silence followed him as he walked toward the door. There, in his mind, one image kept persisting: Rhaenyra looking at Daron, with the same devotion a daughter has for her protector, and a woman for her equal.

Viserys found himself in his study again, staring at the papers piling up on his desk. The war in the Stepstones had progressed swiftly, and the realm, though tense, continued with its daily obligations. Yet, something lingered in his mind, something he could not shake.

The door opened softly, interrupting his thoughts. Daron entered without making a sound, his presence as imposing as ever. His eyes, so full of determination, met Viserys'.

—Your Majesty, I've come to discuss the Stepstones—Daron said, his tone serious but without arrogance. The war was on his mind as much as everyone else's, but there was something about him that never disappeared: a willingness to act.

Viserys lifted his gaze, clearing his mind in an instant.

—What do you want, Daron?—he asked with a grave voice.

Daron did not hesitate. He took a step closer, and as he did, the tension in the air seemed to grow, as if both knew there was something more at play in this conversation.

—I want to go to the Stepstones. Help in the fight. I've trained my whole life to be useful in moments like this, and I don't want to stay here, doing nothing while men fall. I can be of more help there than here.

Viserys frowned. He knew Daron had the soul of a warrior, but he also understood the dangers such a war entailed. The conflict in the Stepstones was no ordinary war—it was something that could change the course of history. Daron might not return, and Viserys was not prepared to lose him. Not without careful thought.

—I've seen you train, Daron. I know you're a good soldier—Viserys responded, measuring each word—, but war is unpredictable. It's not just the battlefield that drags you in; it's the politics, the alliances, the betrayals. There's much more at stake than a sharp sword.

Daron nodded, understanding what the king was saying, but his eyes didn't waver. He was determined.

—I know, Your Majesty. But that's exactly why I want to be there. Not just to fight, but to be part of it. To ensure the realm moves forward, even if my place is on the battlefield.

Viserys studied his face for a moment, noticing that there was no arrogance in his words, only quiet determination. There was something about Daron that reminded him of himself in his youth, when he was still a prince full of ideals and a desire to protect the realm. Viserys sighed, realizing that he couldn't stop Daron—not if he truly wanted to contribute to the kingdom. His loyalty was intact.

—Very well, Daron—Viserys said, his voice softer now—. Go to the Stepstones, but don't forget what you leave behind. War is a shadow that stretches long, and the return is not always as simple as leaving.

Daron nodded with respect, but his face showed the determination of a man who had already made his decision.

—Thank you, Your Majesty.

As Daron turned to leave, Viserys watched him with a faint sigh.

He knew that his future with the realm depended on more than just a war, more than just a battlefield. But in his mind, an idea began to form. Daron's return, the man who had been recognized and legitimized, could be the answer to many of the dilemmas facing the court. When he returns, I'll be able to talk to him about what really matters...

Viserys closed his eyes for a moment. Maybe it's time to think about Rhaenyra and her future... what the realm needs, not just from his daughter, but from her future husband.