Rhaenyra is not that person, because Rhaenyra has her own ambitions and interests, and she cannot put Viserys's interests first like Otto does.
Alicent is not that person either, because Alicent is his wife and his queen, but not his adviser.
She is too young, too inexperienced, and too easily swayed by emotions.
What Viserys needs is a calm, rational, experienced person who can point him in the right direction when he is most confused, like a crutch.
He, Otto·Hai Tarth, is the crutch.
He folded the letter paper and sealed it with wax paint. The paint was still House Hightower dark green, with his coat of arms embossed on it.
Then he handed the letter to a servant he trusted and asked him to set off immediately by sea, starting from the old port, heading north along the coastline, landing at Cape Wrath, then changing horses and taking the land route, traveling day and night, to deliver the letter to Red Keep in King's Landing, and hand it into the hands of Alicent.
The servant took the letter, bowed, turned and left. His footsteps gradually became distant on the stone steps, and soon disappeared in the corridor under the tower.
Otto stood in front of the window, watching the servant leave Citadel's courtyard on horseback, cross the streets of Oldtown, and disappear on the official road outside the south gate.
His eyes moved away from the official road, past the red tile roofs of Oldtown, past the forest of masts in the port, and past the dotted white sails on the sea, and landed on a farther, invisible direction, but he knew where it was - King's Landing, Red Keep, Iron Throne.
The corners of his mouth raised slightly, revealing a determined, almost greedy smile.
Soon.
He will go back soon. Return to the place that he created with his own hands and belongs to him.
Return to Viserys, return to Small Council's long table, return to the ministers who once bowed before him.
He wanted to tell them with actions - he, Otto·Hai Tarth, was not driven away, but invited back.
He didn't come back dejected with his head down and his tail between his legs, but he came back with his head held high and his chest puffed out and was personally invited back by the king.
That feeling is ten thousand times sweeter than the taste of power itself.
He closed the window, walked back to the desk, and sat down again.
The parchment rolls, ledgers, letters and documents on the table were still waiting for him.
Oldtown things, House Hightower things, those trivial, complicated things that upset him but had to deal with, still required him to make decisions, sign, and seal.
He picked up his quill, dipped it in ink, and continued to deal with the boring and endless official duties that had been interrupted by Alicent's letter.
But in his heart, Oldtown is no longer there.
His heart has already flown to King's Landing.
King's Landing's morning starts with the smell of fish.
Blackwater Bay The sea breeze carries the unique smell of the dock area - salty seawater, rotten seaweed, freshly unloaded fish, and inexplicable fish that dried on the port's stone floor overnight and were softened by dew. What's the stain - pouring in from the open window, passing through the corridor of Red Keep, swirling in front of the window of Rhaenyra, blowing the heavy velvet curtains to shake slightly.
Rhaenyra has been awake for a long time. She did not open her eyes, lying on the soft goose down mattress with her eyes closed, listening to the cry of seagulls outside the window.
Those screams were sharp and long, as if someone was scratching the glass with a dull knife, once, again, and again.
The morning light shines through the gaps in the curtains, casting a slender, golden line on the ceiling. The line moves slowly as the sun rises, from one end of the ceiling to the other, bit by bit, like a slowly crawling, glowing silkworm.
She is not in a hurry to get up. Recently she has developed this habit - after waking up, she lies on the bed with her eyes closed, thinking about nothing or doing nothing, just listening to the sound outside the window.
The cry of seagulls, the sound of waves lapping against the city wall, the whistle of dock workers carrying goods in the distance, and the sound of vendors selling goods in the market further away.
These sounds mixed together are like the heartbeat of this ancient city, calm, regular, regardless of sorrow or joy.
She needs this voice to remind herself that she is still alive, she is still part of this Red Keep, she is still the heir to the Seven Kingdoms throne, and her name is still Rhaenyra·Targaryen.
Since she was stopped by the guards in front of Viserys's palace that day, she has lived in this Red Keep for more than ten days.
More than ten days is not a long time. It is so short that she has not had time to send the leather armor that was wrinkled by the night wind to be repaired. It is so short that the volcanic ash she got on Dragonstone has not been completely cleaned from the gaps in the boots.
But these ten days were enough for her to see one thing clearly - the gap between her and her father was much deeper, wider, and more difficult to bridge than she had imagined.
That barrier didn't start from that day. She just saw it that day, just like a person who walked on the mountain road for a long time and suddenly turned a corner and saw the abyss beneath her feet.
The abyss has always been there, but she used to walk with her head down and not look to the side.
Now that she has seen it, she can no longer pretend that it doesn't exist. That gap is slowly formed during the process of changes in status and power.
It is like an underground river that has been flowing underground for thousands of years. Nothing can be seen on the surface. The land is dry, the grass is green, flowers are blooming and withering, cattle and sheep are grazing slowly on the grass, and shepherd boys are lying in the shade of the trees and playing flutes. Everything is peaceful and quiet.
But underground, the underground river is eroding the soil bit by bit, hollowing out the rock formations, digging out a huge, bottomless cavity where people can't see it.
One day, the ground could no longer bear the weight above and collapsed with a loud bang. Those who were still walking on it did not even have time to call for help.
She is the one who walks.
The ground beneath her feet has begun to collapse, and what she can do is not to fill up the collapsed ground - she knows it won't be filled up, and no amount of soil can fill up an underground river - but to learn to stand firm on the edge of this the Rift that is slowly collapsing and may swallow her up at any time, and to keep her balance and not fall.
So she is looking for allies. She is interested in contacting all the nobles and lords of Seven Kingdoms.
These days, her study is filled with letters.
The letters came from all over - Winterfell of the North, the Eyrie of Vale, Casterly Rock of Westerlands, Riverrun of Riverlands, Highgarden of the Reach, Storm's End of Stormlands, and Sunspear of Dorne.
Each letter was written in an extremely polite manner, with sophisticated wording and rigorous format. It had as many honorifics as it deserved and no blessings were left out.