Viserys seemed to let out a breath of relief. His clouded gaze turned once more toward the Greens: "And you…?"
Otto, Aemond, Aegon, Alyn, Helaena, Daeron… all lowered their heads in silence.
No one objected, and no one spoke.
The King had already annulled the betrothal to Jacaerys.
That aligned with the Greens' stance against bastards.
But now, he proposed a new bond—one of pure blood within the family.
The bride would be the Queen's own daughter; in truth, it could even be seen as a form of compromise.
To oppose it now would be untenable in both sentiment and reason.
Otto's mind raced. Perhaps…
This was not a bad thing. At the very least, the line to Jacaerys had been severed.
Below the dais, Rhaenyra, however, was caught in turmoil and pain.
Cancel one, then offer another?
What did Father mean by this? A slap followed by a sweet?
Or… in his eyes, had Jacaerys already become Velaryon—no longer of his blood?
"Your Grace!"
Her grievance could no longer be suppressed: "Why treat Jacaerys this way?"
"Is he not also your blood, your grandson?!"
"Cough…"
Viserys doubled over in a fit of coughing, his body hunching, trembling all over.
Beside him, Alicent hurriedly patted his back.
When the coughing subsided slightly, Viserys could no longer speak, only gasp in pain.
Alicent lifted her eyes to Rhaenyra and spoke in the King's stead: "That is enough, Rhaenyra!"
"Jacaerys Velaryon is now the lawful heir to Driftmark!"
"His Grace's meaning is already clear."
"This matter requires no further discussion!"
"But I bore him!" Rhaenyra blurted out, her eyes reddening as she choked out, "He will always be my child!"
At her side, Daemon closed his eyes almost imperceptibly and sighed.
"Hold your tongue… Rhaenyra."
Viserys drew in a breath—so laboriously that his voice trembled with the effort.
Yet the severity in the King's words was one he had not shown in years: "I am not yet dead… It is not your place… to question my decision."
With that, the King slumped back into the cushions, gasping for air.
Rhaenyra was shaken by the sharp rebuke she had never before received from her father.
The color drained from her face, then rushed back in a flush. Her eyes widened, yet she did not dare speak again.
The hall fell into deathly silence.
Only the King's labored breathing could be heard.
With the Queen's support, Viserys gathered every ounce of strength and, trembling, rose inch by inch from the Iron Throne.
"One last matter…"
"The succession… the future of the realm…"
He gasped heavily, his chest heaving: "I hereby declare…"
Viserys' withered hand, trembling like a dead branch, slowly lifted.
At last, it pointed toward Rhaenyra below.
"The Iron Throne… shall pass to Rhaenyra… and her…"
Viserys's body suddenly went rigid.
The arm he had raised fell limply.
A harsh, rasping sound came from his throat.
Then his whole body pitched straight forward!
Beside him, Alicent hurried to catch and support Viserys.
"Your Grace!!"
"Father!!"
Cries and screams exploded throughout the hall!
Alicent shrieked as she held the King, while the white-cloaked guards and attendants rushed forward, their footsteps chaotic.
A scene of confusion.
Sudden, utter confusion.
Aemond turned his head in puzzlement to look at Otto beside him. A flicker of shock had also crossed his grandsire's face.
The shock was brief, but Aemond caught it.
Otto was somewhat speechless.
He had arranged for Larys and Orwyle to administer a calming draught, enough to make a strong man sleep for a full day and night.
By all reason, the King should have collapsed midway through his proclamation.
Yet he had forced himself to finish speaking of the betrothal, and had nearly finished declaring the line of succession.
The plan had gone awry.
But now, the opportunity had also come.
Amid this chaos—
Those who had been standing at attention in the corners on both sides, as well as the armored guards bearing halberds, moved at once as though they had received a silent command!
Their steps were swift, yet not frantic.
They quickly sealed off all the side doors and passages of the throne hall; a human wall formed in an instant.
More fully armed guards poured in from the corridors on both sides.
In a moment, at the main entrance of the throne hall, they formed an impenetrable wall of steel!
Halberds were leveled, their blades gleaming coldly in the dim light.
Ser Lyes, captain of the Red Keep's guards—a knight with a fleshy face and a scar running across his left cheek—
His hand resting on the hilt of his sword, he strode soundlessly through the crowd, came to Otto's side, bowed slightly, and addressed him: "My lord Hand."
Rhaenyra snapped out of her initial daze.
"Father!!"
She screamed, hoarse with anguish, and was about to rush forward regardless of consequence.
What decorum, what dignity as heir—all of it shattered in this instant.
This was her father—the one who had cherished her since childhood, indulged her, and, against all opposition, named her his heir!
Daemon seized her arm in a tight grip, his fingers like iron.
"Do not move!" he growled.
His gaze was sharp; in an instant he grasped the situation—the mobilization of the guards, the swift sealing of the passages, Otto becoming the one issuing commands.
Now that the King had collapsed, the captain of the guards sought instruction from Otto, not from the heir.
The Greens meant to strike amid the chaos.
This had long been premeditated—waiting only for the King to fall unconscious, no matter by what means.
Otto stepped forward and stood upon the steps of the throne, looking down from above.
There was little expression on his face. His eyes swept over the chaotic hall, over the panicked nobles, and finally came to rest on Rhaenyra, who was being held back by Daemon.
"His Grace the King has been struck by a sudden illness and lies insensible!"
He paused.
His gaze met Daemon's.
A cold light flashed in Otto's eyes.
"From this moment forth, the Red Keep is placed under full lockdown!"
"Without an order from the King or from me, no one is to enter or leave! All passages are to be sealed at once!"
Daemon watched all that was unfolding. He released Rhaenyra, stepped half a pace forward, and shielded the Blacks behind him. His hand settled upon the hilt of Dark Sister.
"Lockdown?" he said. "Otto, what are you attempting? To move while the King has fallen?"
Otto looked at Daemon without expression. "Your Highness overstates the matter."
"The lockdown is solely to protect His Grace's safety, to prevent anyone from harboring ill intent amid the chaos."
"As for Her Highness the heir…" he looked toward Rhaenyra, "until His Grace's condition stabilizes, Your Highness would do well to remain within the Red Keep. This, too, is for your safety."
"For her safety?" Daemon laughed.
Before he could finish—
"You…."
A faint, broken, yet terrifyingly clear voice struggled out from the cluster of people, from within Alicent's arms.
"What… are you doing?"
All fell silent in an instant.
Viserys, surrounded by those about him, slowly—once again—opened his eyes!
His gaze was unfocused, his breath as weak as a guttering candle in the wind, yet he was awake.
For the first time, Otto's expression changed.
Not panic, but the disruption of something unforeseen.
How could this be? Why had he awakened again?
Damn Larys, damn Orwyle…
Aemond stood among the Greens, watching Otto coldly, displeased at his grandsire's presumption—had it succeeded, it would have been one matter…
Viserys was barely raised upright by Alicent and the Kingsguard.
"Lockdown…?"
His gaze, with effort, found Otto. He looked at him, his eyes filled with weariness and disappointment.
"Hand… I… gave no order for lockdown…"
He panted, gathering strength, and then said: "Now… I remove… Otto Hightower… from all duties… as Hand."
When the King finished speaking, a deathly stillness followed.
The guards who had moments before been so forceful froze at once. Hesitation and fear showed upon their faces as they looked to Otto, then to Captain Lyes.
Ser Lyes glanced at Otto, and for the first time doubt appeared in his eyes.
Otto stood there, his face already ashen.
He looked at Viserys. Then, slowly, he lowered his head.
"As you command… Your Grace."
Viserys seemed to have spent his last measure of strength. Leaning in Alicent's arms, his eyes half-closed, his voice faint yet clear: "Today… ends here…"
"All of you… depart…"
The guards blocking the doorway heard the command.
That iron wall of men slowly parted, yielding a passage.
The doors were opened. The light of the afternoon poured in, stinging all eyes.
The nobles, heads lowered and steps hurried, left the throne hall almost as if fleeing.
No one spoke, no one lingered—only the sound of disorderly movement.
Rhaenyra still stood somewhat dazed, the weakness of surviving a calamity leaving her legs unsteady.
Daemon did not delay; he took Rhaenyra and left at once. For now, all of King's Landing lay in the hands of the Greens. Should his brother Viserys die at this moment…
The consequences would be beyond reckoning.
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