Exile|7|

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The small council sat prepared to start the meeting as Rhaenyra began filling cups of wine.

"Before we begin, Your Grace, I feel the need to share this with you. Last night, Prince Daemon had bought out a pleasure house on the street of silk to entertain offices of the city watch and some friends of his," Otto said tensely while looking at Viserys, who looked very confused.

"He toasted Prince Baelon, styling him the 'Heir for the day'" Otto continued, and Rhaenyra gripped the jug of wine, tightening upon hearing those words.

"I corroborate this report with three separate witnesses; the evening was no doubt a celebration." He finished,

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Viserys sat on the throne, trying to control his anger, as the doors opened and Daemon walked in.

"You cut the image of the conqueror, brother," Daemon said, smirking, knowing his brother was anything but a conqueror as he was no true king. He walked up close to the iron throne.

"Did you say it?" Viserys demands

"I don't know what you mean," Daemon replied, shrugging his shoulders as he looked at him.

"You will address me as Your Grace, or I will have my king's guard cut out your tongue," Visery warned.

"The heir for a day, did you say it?" He clarified, gripping his sword tightly as the room filled with silence.

"We must mourn in our own way, Your Grace," Daemon said solemnly as he thought of Aemma. He never meant to disrespect her, but he was way too drunk to remember last night's events.

"My family has been destroyed, but instead of being by my side or Rhaenyra, you chose to celebrate our own rise! Laughing with your whores and lickspittles, you have no allies at court but me!"

"You are grieving," Daemon scoffed. "You murdered your wife; you killed your daughter's mother because of your desire for a son. You knew the chances of Aemma surviving, but you didn't give a damn to blinded by your desire for a son."

"I have only ever defended you, yet everything I have given you has been thrown back in my face," Viserys shouted, ignoring his brother's words.

"You have only ever tried to send me away. To the Vale, to the City Watch, anywhere but your side. Ten years you have been king, and not once have you asked me to be your hand," Daemon countered, raising his voice, glaring hatefully at his brother.

"Why would I do that? Viserys asked.

"Because I am your brother, and the blood of the dragon runs thick," Daemon reminded him.

"Then why do you cut me so deeply?" Visery shouted back.

"I have only ever spoken the truth. I see Otto Hightower for what he is," Daemon said defensively.

"an unwavering and loyal hand?" Visery suggested raising an eyebrow.

"A cunt is a second son who tends to inherit nothing he doesn't seize for himself." Daemon corrected his brother.

"Otto Hightower is a more honorable man than you could ever be." Viserys said, not knowing how wrong he was.

"He doesn't protect you; I would."

"From what?"

"Yourself, your week, Viserys, and that council knows that and leeches and preys on you." Daemon spat

"I have decided to name a new heir," Viserys said to Daemon.

"I am your heir," Daemon told him, bitterly trying to think of who would be named.

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