Hours later, after dealing with his brother, Viserys was overlooking the horizon and King's Landing as he leaned to one side of the stone frame leading to the balcony of his bedchambers. His silent meditation was interrupted by his wife.
"Have you spoken to her?" Alicent asked as she passed him a cup with a drink.
Viserys looked at her for a few seconds as he received the cup from her hand and exhaled, exhausted, looking again at the city. "No."
"Do you have already thought about what to do?"
"I have," Viserys said, sipping from the cup, not removing his sight from the city.
"You believe that it happened?"
Viserys hesitated for a moment, but he was sure of it—just as sure as he was of that dreadful dream. "Whatever transpired, Rhaenyra is not innocent."
"Only because Daemon tried to corrupt her," Alicent tried to speak for her, even if she also understood that something had happened.
"Daemon and Rhaenyra share the blood of the dragon. They are restless and chaotic." Viserys looked at her. Then he finished the drink in one gulp as he looked again at the city. "But as I have said, I have already thought about what to do with my rebellious daughter."
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- Hours later -
In the king's bedchamber before the maquette of King's Landing, Viserys had his daughter Rhaenyra come to have a chat about what had happened recently.
Rhaenyra was looking at a dagger that was heating in a brazier, and as she curiously wanted to grab it, her father, Viserys, started talking after they both had been standing in silence for a long while. "That dagger once belonged to Aegon the Conqueror."
"It was his father Aerion's before that. And before that... well, it is difficult to know."
"Before Aegon's death, the last of the Valyrian pyromancers hid his song in the steel."
Rhaenyra looked at her father, who nodded to her, and she grabbed the dagger, still heated from the brazier. There were Valyrian words engraved all over its blade. "From my blood... comes the Prince That Was Promised... and his will be the Song of Ice and Fire."
"The responsibility I have handed to you, the burden of this knowledge... it is larger than the throne, the king."
"It is larger than you and your desires," Viserys said seriously, trying to reason with his daughter, to make her see things far more important than just them and what they wanted.
"Jaehaerys would've disinherited you."
"For doing what our house has practiced since the times of old Valyria?"
"The prophecy says 'the prince that was promised would come from our blood'. My blood is also a vessel of that prophecy. Don't you see it, Father? Our house would cease to exist if we stopped doing it. Sooner than later."
Viserys' fingers trembled at her words. But more was because of his dream.
"That does not matter to the realm, Rhaenyra," Viserys tried to make her see reason. "Only perception, and you have exposed yourself."
He sighed. "Now we must both suffer the consequences."
Rhaenyra indignantly retorted, "Were I born a man, I could bed whomever I wanted. I could father a dozen bastards, and no one in your court would blink an eye."
"You are right... but you were born a woman," Viserys smiled sadly at her, feeling powerless against her claims.
"So you'll strip me of my titles and name Aegon in my stead?"
"I would," Viserys nodded, his eyes serious. "But it is my duty to hold the realm together, not sow it with further division."
Rhaenyra kept quiet at her father's words. Viserys sighed, not wanting to press his beloved daughter too much. "Your courtship is at an end. You will wed Ser Laenor Velaryon, and you will do so without protest."
"The son of the Sea Snake?" Rhaenyra smiled, holding back a chuckle as she looked at her father. "So I can be a remedy for your political headaches?"
"You are my political headache!" he growled. "Your wedding to Ser Laenor Velaryon will unite the two most powerful houses in the realm. With the combined strength of our shared dragons and naval fleets, no one would dare stand against us."
"The House of the Dragon will stand as one for another generation. And... if something were to come of your mishap with... Daemon, you will be able to hide it."
Rhaenyra exhaled as she caressed her belly. She looked at her father with a doubtful voice. "Are you telling me that if something comes of this, I can have it?"
"Yes, I am!" Viserys said through gritted teeth. "I will not order the killing of a possible member of our family... my first grandson..." he actually wasn't entirely honest with her; he would have sent a tea for her to avoid any unwanted pregnancy, but the grim dream he had recently foretold grave consequences if he weren't to allow nature take his place if something came out of their union. Having no choice, he planned for this.
'I mustn't allow that to happen. Not because of me.'
Rhaenyra breathed heavily as she tried to calm her emotions. "And what will you do about the vulture who perches upon your throne?" She changed the matter to the man who attacked her.
"What vulture?" he asked, raising an eyebrow as he looked at her.
"Your Hand."
"Otto Hightower has served two kings loyally and faithfully," Viserys dismissed her.
"He wants Aegon named heir. And he will stop at nothing to see it done, including spying on me to bring about my ruin."
"You speak of the Conqueror's vision and the need for strength and unity across the realm. But how can that be accomplished with your most trusted adviser so self-interested?"
Viserys looked at her. "Every lord and lady who calls for an audience with me, every man on my small council, and all councils past, have been self-interested. It is unavoidable. You need to understand this truth, my daughter."
"I disagree. I will do my duty as heir and wed Ser Laenor. But..."
Rhaenyra struggled to say the next words as the silence between them grew heavy.
"Speak. But what?"
"But... if it comes to happen, my child would be Targaryen, not Velaryon... You need to legitimize him or her as such, openly to the realm, as something you want. Given how they look to trouble my position, westerosi nobles and interested people would want my child to be Velaryon instead of Targaryen, tradition or not."
Viserys grasped the table with the city maquette to stay stable, his fingers turning white as he gripped it hard. After a moment, he looked at his daughter and nodded. "I will do so."