At that moment, the air in the room seemed to congeal.
Viserys's breath caught for an instant. He stared at his brother, at those eyes so like his own, yet so utterly different.
"You..." The king's voice was barely audible. "You want to kill them? Jacaerys, Lucerys, Joffrey?"
"No, no, no." Daemon straightened and waved a hand. "I mean... what if those three boys willingly gave up their claims, took the black, and went to the Wall to defend the realm?"
(Joining the Night's Watch meant willingly renouncing one's family inheritance, taking no wife, and guarding the Wall for life.)
He spread his arms and smiled at Viserys.
"Think about it, brother. If they were willing..."
"Publicly swearing their willingness to give up the Velaryon name and their claim to Tidepool Island, and go to the Wall to become honored members of the Night's Watch..."
"Then every problem we have now would be solved."
Daemon continued smiling.
"First, the succession crisis on Tidepool Island would be resolved. Once Corlys woke, he could name another member of the Velaryon family as his heir."
"And the children Rhaenyra and I have together would be pure-blooded Targaryens, with silver hair and purple eyes. No one in the Seven Kingdoms would dare question the bloodline of Rhaenyra's children again."
"Second, the nobles would have a way to save face."
"Look, the Crown Prince's disputed sons willingly gave up everything they had, sacrificing the rest of their lives for the peace of the realm."
"Third, you'd have a way to save face, too."
"You'd have defended your daughter's place as heir while respecting the ancient traditions and laws."
He smiled. The smile was flawless, yet it sent a chill through Viserys.
"It's perfect," Daemon said softly. "Isn't it?"
Viserys stared at his brother, dazed.
The plan was so cold, so ingenious, so... Targaryen.
It would satisfy everyone.
Everyone except those three boys and their mother.
"But Rhaenyra won't agree." After a long silence, the king rasped.
Daemon's smile faltered slightly.
Then he said:
"She'll understand that it's necessary."
"She'll understand that sometimes sacrifices have to be made for the greater good."
"She's the Crown Prince. She should understand that."
Viserys shook his head.
"Do you really know her, Daemon?"
"Do you really know what it means to be a mother?"
The king lifted his head and looked his brother straight in the eye.
"Rhaenyra loves those three children."
"She loves them as a mother loves her own flesh and blood."
"She'd sooner burn the Seven Kingdoms to the ground than send them to the Wall. You know that."
"This plan could never work..."
Daemon fell silent.
After a long while, he said quietly:
"Then there's only one choice left."
"Aemond..." Viserys finished for him.
Daemon turned away, a roguish smile back on his face, though his eyes held no mirth.
"Clever brother. Yes, Aemond. Your dear son, my dear nephew, the star of today's show. What are you going to do with him?"
Viserys was silent for a moment.
"I'll keep him confined for a few months..."
"Then send him back to his own lands."
"He won't be allowed to return to King's Landing unless summoned."
"Let him cool off in his domain for a few years."
Daemon smiled.
"That's far too lenient. It's practically a reward."
Viserys flushed. "Daemon!"
"Am I wrong?" Daemon walked up to the king and looked down at him. "What is Dragon's Roost, anyway? It's a domain you granted him."
"He's training private soldiers there and building fortifications. And speaking of dragons, he has two now."
"Vhagar, the largest dragon alive! And that black hatchling that came from the dead egg?"
Daemon's voice grew colder and colder.
"Sending him back to Dragon's Roost would be like releasing a tiger back into the mountains."
"You'd be giving him time to grow and build up his strength."
Viserys looked up at his brother.
"Then what do you want?"
Daemon fell silent for a moment, then said:
"Do what Aenys I did when he exiled Maegor."
"Send him to the Eastern Continent. Pentos, Valyria, Lys, anywhere."
"Give him some money and a ship, then tell him he can never return without a pardon."
"He's my son!" Viserys exploded. "My own flesh and blood! You want me to exile him? Forever?"
Daemon replied calmly:
"If you don't exile him, the consequences could be worse."
"Brother, look at how he acted today."
"He's thirteen, and in the chaos of the Trial by the King's Justice, facing my sword, he was as calm as ice."
"He calculated every move and used everyone—Vaemond, me, you, even the nobles watching."
"That's not the kind of mind a boy his age should have..."
Viserys closed his eyes.
He knew Daemon might be right. How could he not?
Today, after Aemond had slain Vaemond, he'd looked up, covered in blood, and gazed at him calmly with those purple eyes. A chill had run down Viserys's spine as he sat upon the Iron Throne.
"I won't let you touch him." The king suddenly rose and seized Daemon by the collar. "Daemon Targaryen, don't you dare touch my son."
Clutching his brother's tunic tightly, he spoke each word with stern emphasis.
"I! Won't! Let! You! Touch! Him!"
Their faces were inches apart, close enough to feel each other's breath.
"Do you understand?"
Daemon looked at his brother's hand gripping him. After a long moment, he said:
"If you don't deal with this now, then after you die—and that won't be long—"
"Queen Alicent and Lord Hand Otto won't accept Rhaenyra's succession, and Rhaenyra and I will never give up the Iron Throne."
"Then your children will mount their dragons and slaughter one another."
He gripped Viserys's hand tightly.
"Aegon and Sunfyre, Aemond and Vhagar, Rhaenyra and Syrax, me and Caraxes... and Helaena, Jacaerys, Lucerys. Every child who can ride a dragon will be dragged into it."
"Dragonflame will sweep across the Seven Kingdoms. Cities will turn to ash, and tens of thousands will die."
"Your children will be burned or fall to their deaths from the sky..."
"Is that what you want, brother?"
"A realm destroyed by a Targaryen civil war?"
Viserys trembled. He tried to pull his hand away, but Daemon held it fast.
"You may go," the king said at last, his voice drained of strength.
"Let me... think about it."
Daemon watched his brother for a long time.
He saw the pain, the struggle, and the fear in Viserys's eyes, and beneath them all, love: love for Rhaenyra, love for Aemond, love for all the children who would soon be killing one another.
That love was so vast and so heavy that it nearly crushed the old man, already frail as he was.
At last, Daemon let go and slowly rose.
He went to the door and put his hand on the handle. He paused, but did not look back.
"Have you forgotten? Father, Baelon, once told you that being king is like walking along a blade's edge. Every step can cut you, or someone you love."
"But you can't stop—because if you do... everyone will fall."
The door opened, then closed.
Daemon's footsteps gradually faded down the corridor outside.
Viserys was alone in the room. Dusk had fully fallen. The king sat motionless in his chair.
The pain in the wound on his left hand grew sharper, as though flames were licking at it, but he could hardly feel it—the pain in his heart drowned out everything else.
At that moment, an almost imperceptible sound came from inside the walls.
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