Viserys was still weighing things in his mind.
Indeed, the marriage alliance had yet to be finalized, and revealing his intentions would give the Dornish time to prepare.
Then he heard Lyonel speak again.
"Those 'pirates' in the Stepstones are tearing up the peace agreement. They will become allies of the Dornish."
"Once war begins, vultures, Harrens, and the like will surely come flocking."
The self-proclaimed Vulture Kings who had risen through the ages in the mountains of Dorne, and another "Harren" who would inevitably emerge in the Riverlands.
And there were the Iron Islands.
The Iron Islands had not offered King Viserys gifts in a long time.
Viserys patted his chest, and his rapid breathing slowed.
"Lyonel, you're right." Gratitude showed on Viserys's face.
Until the marriage alliance and preparations for war were complete, he ought to keep his intentions hidden and plan carefully.
Rather than let his enemies glimpse his true intentions.
Lyonel secretly breathed a sigh of relief, his back relaxing.
Whether for better or worse, King Viserys knew nothing of war or military affairs.
Viserys stroked his scar, his eyes shining brightly. "I have always longed to be tested."
"To forge a different character and experience a different life."
He was somewhat excited, a long-absent passion bursting from his healthy body.
It flowed from his heart through every limb.
"Now the gods have given me an opportunity."
"I, Viserys I, swear before the Old and New Gods that I will become a Targaryen king of accomplishment."
Lyonel's expression did not change, but inwardly he shook his head.
The mild-mannered King Viserys had completely lost his head.
How could conquering Dorne possibly be so easy?!
The more likely outcome was to mire Westeros in war and fill the kingdom with corpses and sorrow.
They would gain nothing but hatred.
Yet his tone remained calm. "Your Grace, perhaps we should focus on the marriage alliance first?"
"Do you intend to take a daughter of House Hightower as your new queen?"
Viserys let out a long breath and nodded firmly.
Recalling the court gossip, Lyonel asked tentatively, "Then do you intend to marry Otto's...?"
Viserys's gaze fell on Lyonel.
That look affirmed his words.
Lyonel understood.
"You intend to marry Otto's daughter?"
"I intend to marry Otto's niece."
Viserys happened to speak at the same moment.
In the council chamber, their voices overlapped, then parted.
"His niece?!"
Lyonel's eyes widened.
Puzzled, he said, "Your Grace, I thought..."
He could no longer predict King Viserys's thoughts at all!
But the bewilderment filling his chest drove Lyonel to speak. "I thought you were interested in Alicent Hightower?"
Words could be sharper than the swords knights honed.
Beneath some lips lurked Dornish vipers, whose tongues could drip deadly venom.
At court, rumors and malicious speculation about Alicent Hightower never ceased.
A lowly, large-headed dwarf had slandered Lady Alicent, claiming that when she attended the aged King Jaehaerys at his bedside and read to him,
she had already given herself to King Jaehaerys.
No one would take a fool's words seriously.
But since Queen Aemma's passing, the rumors about the king and Alicent Hightower had not been entirely unfounded.
Viserys's expression darkened.
"Sometimes, for the sake of the kingdom, I must restrain my desires."
Alicent was indeed beautiful, gentle, and understanding.
After Daemon angered him, she soothed his fury; after he argued with Rhaenyra, she diligently carried messages between them and mediated, helping father and daughter reconcile.
But Viserys still could not forget Aemma.
Aemma had left him two children, Baelon in particular.
On that horrific, blood-soaked bed, he had gained Baelon and lost Aemma.
Sometimes, looking at Baelon's face, he would see flashes of that day.
Aemma's fingers had scratched and struggled in his palm. With their skin pressed together, he had felt the movements in his hand gradually weaken, her warm skin slowly turning cold.
Even though he felt some affection for Alicent, his guilt prevented him from taking another queen.
But now, for the kingdom's sake, he had resolved to shoulder his responsibility and curb his desires!
Viserys spoke calmly. "Since the Iron Throne is to forge a marriage alliance with House Hightower,"
"could there be a better choice than marrying Earl Hightower's daughter directly?"
A sense of foreboding rose in Lyonel.
He said tactfully, "Lord Otto is your Hand of the King."
He had brought his daughter into the Red Keep, and the king had grown close to her, only to decide in the end not to marry her.
Instead, he intended to marry another daughter of House Hightower.
Otto Hightower would likely consider this an insult.
Lyonel was tall and powerfully built, renowned for his prowess in battle. Today he had neither ridden nor shot arrows, nor wielded a lance or warhammer.
Yet after speaking with Viserys, exhaustion and helplessness welled up from his stomach.
He took a deep breath, rallied himself, and continued his counsel. "Your Grace, the choice of a new queen requires care."
"You should give it further thought."
Viserys was receptive to advice. Even if a dragon's heart had suddenly appeared in his chest, he still retained a doe's soft ears.
Though displeased after Lyonel repeatedly dampened his enthusiasm, he instinctively began to waver.
Seeing this, Lyonel abandoned his reticence and immediately began persuading him with gentle, earnest words.
Viserys had always lacked a firm will. Except in matters concerning his brother and children, he was easily swayed and found it difficult to hold to his own convictions.
His once-surging appetite for war and firm resolve began to dissipate easily under the words of Lyonel, a man both skilled in battle and widely learned.
Viserys pressed his lips together and said heavily, "I understand."
"Lyonel, I will give it serious consideration."
Lyonel breathed a sigh of relief.
He felt as though he had just survived a fight to the death, and after securing a small victory, he was already weary.
Viserys asked the Kingsguard about the other candidate for a marriage alliance. "By the way, where is Rhaenyra?"
He instructed Ser Harrold, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, "Harrold, go fetch Rhaenyra."
The Godswood
Beneath the cool shade of the trees.
Rhaenyra leaned back, bracing both hands against the grass.
Through the gaps between the weirwood's blood-red leaves, she could see the bright, clear sky.
It was as blue as cornflowers, or the water in the deepest reaches of the sea, pure and without a trace of impurity.
A gentle breeze lifted Rhaenyra's silver hair.
A smile played on her lips as she asked Cole softly, "Why so serious?"
"Come here. Sit beside me." She patted the soft grass beside her bottom.
"My white knight."
Ser Cole's eyes darted about. "In the Godswood?"
"Rhaenyra, someone could come at any moment."
"What does that matter?" Rhaenyra smiled sweetly. "Come, Criston. Enjoy the shade with me."
Cole's Adam's apple bobbed, and he stopped resisting.
He slowly moved onto the grass and sat down a fist's width away from Rhaenyra.
This way, they looked like an ordinary princess and her knight.
Rhaenyra was amused by him.
She laughed softly, her voice clear and bright.
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