Madness or greatness?

Lyonel waited patiently for Viserys to speak.

Viserys began, "Lyonel, ever since Rhaenyra turned twelve, I have received marriage proposals from across the realm almost every day."

Lyonel ventured, "Are you worried about the princess's marriage?"

"No."

"I already have someone in mind." Viserys let out a nervous breath. "Lannister."

"Jason Lannister. What do you think?"

Lyonel was somewhat surprised. No discussing it several times with the Small Council, no letting Princess Rhaenyra choose for herself.

Making a direct, decisive choice was unlike King Viserys's usual way of doing things.

He asked, "Why would you choose Lannister?"

Viserys stood. "South of the Neck, all the eastern lands of Westeros are firmly united beneath the Iron Throne!"

He rose from his seat and paced back and forth. "If Rhaenyra marries a Lannister, the Westerlands will also be united with the Iron Throne."

"That would leave only the Riverlands and the Reach in the center of the Seven Kingdoms."

As for the North?

House Stark, raised amid ice and snow, valued honor. Once they swore allegiance, they rarely betrayed it.

Lord Eddard Stark was like a towering boulder standing unmoving in a blizzard. He trusted his oath.

"In the Reach, House Tyrell has ruled as overlords for barely a hundred years. Their right to rule comes from Aegon the Conqueror, whereas House Hightower is ancient, powerful, and wealthy, with close ties to the Citadel and the Faith."

Viserys looked lost as he helplessly sought advice. "If... I mean, if."

"I married a woman of House Hightower as my queen, and Rhaenyra married a Lannister?"

"What would happen?"

Lyonel's pupils contracted. He said calmly, "Then you would gain the Reach and the Westerlands."

"The remaining Riverlands would also know which choice to make."

The dragon, seahorse, falcon, stag, lion, rose, and Hightower would form a close alliance through marriage.

Viserys drew a deep breath and looked expectantly at Lyonel. "The Seven Kingdoms would be stronger than ever before, wouldn't they?"

Lyonel considered for a moment and found an angle from which to dissuade him. "But Princess Rhaenyra might not want her marriage dictated to her?"

"Besides, Your Grace." Lyonel's gaze fell to the table.

A map of Dorne lay spread open.

With the Seven Kingdoms more united than ever, and royal authority at its strongest, would Viserys do nothing?

Royal authority and power could change a man, all the more so when both descended upon the same man with such force.

Lyonel was the first to say it outright. "Your Grace, going to war lightly is not a wise decision."

"You don't understand, Lyonel." The expression on Viserys's face looked utterly pained.

"Since I ascended the Iron Throne, I have never fought a war or conquered a single piece of land."

"Of course, I have never suffered any great setbacks, either."

He licked his dry lips. "I often think that if the gods gave me burdens and trials, perhaps I, too, could accomplish something great."

Lyonel sighed. "Your Grace, wouldn't it be good to maintain lasting peace and live out your life in stability?"

Viserys said abruptly, "I was Balerion's rider."

Balerion, the Black Dread.

He had once ridden that greatest of dragons, soaring above King's Landing.

With a sharp blade at hand, the urge to kill arose of its own accord. Viserys had never heard that saying.

But the pain and sickness in his body had vanished, the Iron Throne's power would soon reach its zenith, and the Seven Kingdoms had enjoyed a long peace.

Like the moon's pull, it all made his faded ambition and spirit slowly rise like a tide from deep within his body, beating against his chest again and again.

Viserys said, "Lately, I seem to keep feeling hot wind brushing my face, but when I pay close attention, it turns out to be an illusion."

Just like the wind that had swept across his face the first and only time he rode Balerion.

Lyonel understood. He had to stop the king!

He raised his voice. "I will never approve of going to war!"

"Even Aegon the Conqueror failed to subdue the Dornish. Queen Rhaenys and Meraxes both died on Dornish soil!"

"Your Grace, I beg you, come to your senses!"

"Abandon that foolish idea!"

"Countless lives would be lost, and sorrow would descend upon this peaceful land of Westeros."

Lyonel's booming voice echoed through the hall, momentarily stunning Viserys.

Lyonel was his good friend and had offered him much advice!

His heart began to waver, pulled in opposite directions by two hands.

He lowered his head, his eyes trembling and darting about.

All along, people had believed that dragons secured the Targaryens upon the Iron Throne.

Dragons brought the Targaryens closest to the gods!

But the Targaryens possessed a gift rarer than dragonriding!

Dreamwalkers!

Compared with dreamwalkers, what did dragons amount to?!

A Targaryen with the gift of a dreamwalker had more right to sit upon the Iron Throne than any dragonrider!

Even though Balerion the Black Dread was dead and he had lost his dragon, he was still a godlike Targaryen!

Lyonel waited anxiously for Viserys's response.

The fate of the Seven Kingdoms hung upon this moment.

The council chamber was silent, so silent that Lyonel could hear Viserys breathing.

An unknown length of time passed.

Under Lyonel's expectant gaze, Viserys raised his head.

He heard Viserys say, "Baelon."

"He is the prince in my prophecy!"

Lyonel's heart plummeted.

"Perhaps this... perhaps this is the sign!"

"This is the sign the gods have given me."

"Telling me that my moment, my trial, has come!"

The gods had chosen him, placed him upon the Iron Throne, and let him father the prince in the prophecy!

The gods had given him a chance to accomplish the great feat that Aegon the Conqueror had failed to achieve.

Lyonel closed his eyes in anguish.

Whenever a Targaryen was born, the gods tossed a coin into the air to decide whether they would be great or mad.

Only now did he realize with a shock that Viserys's coin might not have landed on greatness.

Before, the dispute over the Iron Throne and the burden of illness upon his body had merely covered his coin in dust.

He had to dissuade the king.

Lyonel's eyes shifted, and an idea immediately came to him. "But all of this depends on Princess Rhaenyra being willing to marry a Lannister."

"Your Grace, we should avoid alerting anyone to this matter. Do the other senior members of the Small Council know?"

Viserys shook his head. "No, I haven't had time to tell them yet."

Good!

Lyonel brightened. "Your Grace, if we truly intend to go to war, we must maintain strict secrecy until the marriages with the Hightowers and Lannisters are secured."

He shrugged. "To keep the Dornish from noticing anything, of course."

The king intended to start a war. No one else could be allowed to know.

Who else could persuade the king?!

Daemon Targaryen relished conflict and combat. He would not dissuade the king; instead, he would spur him on like a gale filling a sail.

Corlys Velaryon loved adventure and did not fear war.

Otto Hightower could seize wealth and advantage from war.

Would the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms dissuade him, then?

No.

Once Viserys resolved to go to war, not only were the nobles of the Seven Kingdoms obliged to fight for him, but the Seven Kingdoms had also enjoyed a long peace ever since Jaehaerys the Old King ruled Westeros.

The nobles craved war, a chance to win glory and plunder wealth. After all, in war, captured nobles only had to wait to be ransomed; it was the common folk who died.

Lyonel's eyes lit up. He had suddenly thought of a good person to persuade him.

Someone with enough influence over King Viserys, and a merciful, kind nature!