Where normally the protagonist is transported to another universe or dimension , the roles have now been reversed. The Targaryen uncle-niece find themselves in the home of the 17-year-old Allaria Black. How will she react to the arrival of the Targa...
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Daemon, Allaria, and Rhaenyra gathered around a large, ornate table. Maps and documents lay scattered across its surface, but their focus was on a more sinister plan. Daemon leaned back in his chair, a dark, calculating look in his eyes.
Daemon spole in a low and menacing voice "We need to get rid of Otto, but we can't do it outright. It would raise too many questions, cause too much chaos. And the Highcunt would surely blame me."
Rhaenyra nodded in agreement, "A sudden death would draw suspicion. But if he were to suffer... slowly, painfully, it would look like a natural decline."
Allaria, sitting between them, her face thoughtful, added her insight.
Allaria spoke quietly "Small doses of poison, something that causes pain but doesn't kill immediately. It will weaken him over time, making him less effective and more vulnerable."
Daemon smirked, "Exactly. We'll make him wish for death long before it comes. But we must be careful. It needs to be undetectable."
Rhaenyra looked at Daemon "You're knowledgeable about herbs and potions, Allaria. Can you procure something that fits our needs?"
Daemon nodded "I can. There are plants that cause severe discomfort and pain over prolonged periods if administered in small, regular doses. Belladonna, aconite, or perhaps a concoction of various herbs to make the effects more unpredictable."
Daemon grinning wickedly "Perfect. We start after the wedding. By the time anyone notices, it will be too late."
Rhaenyra smiled darkly "We'll need someone close to him to administer the doses. Someone he trusts."
Allaria added thoughtfully "One of his servants, perhaps. They could be bribed or coerced."
Daemon nodded, "I'll handle that. A few threats or a generous bribe, and they'll do as we ask."
Otto sat at the council table, his face drawn and sweat beading on his forehead. His usual sharp demeanor was dulled by the constant pain that gnawed at him. He struggled to stay focused as the meeting began, his eyes heavy with exhaustion.
Viserys glancing at Otto with concern,"Otto, you seem unwell. Shouldn't you be resting?"
Otto forces a weak smile,"It is nothing, Your Grace. Just a touch of fatigue."
As the meeting progressed, Otto's condition became more apparent. He shifted uncomfortably in his chair, occasionally grimacing as waves of pain washed over him. His hands trembled as he attempted to take notes.
Lord Beesbury whispered to Lord Tyland Lannister "Look at him. He's barely holding it together."
Lord Tyland smirked "Maybe he's suffering from more than just fatigue. A man his age, staying up all night? Perhaps he's been getting a bit too friendly with the King."
