There's something off about the King's Personal attendant.
Something sinister.
***Used to be Savage***
***Currently Being Edited***
Female!OC x Viserys Targaryen
Female!OC x Alicent Hightower
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
Light filtered in through the large window in the Small Council's meeting room, the first sun since Queen Aemma's untimely death. Darla glanced out the window behind her, gazing out at the city. She wondered if the smallfolk even cared that their queen had died. It was not as if Aemma had been comparable to the Good Queen, she had been too limited by her pregnancies to even consider the world outside of the Red Keep.
"Before we begin, Your Grace," The Hand spoke dragging Darla from her thoughts. "I have a report I feel compelled to share. Last night, Prince Daemon bought out one of the pleasure houses on the Street of Silk, to entertain officers of the City Watch and other friends of his."
Darla stood straighter, curious as to what the prince could have said. Though in the back of her mind she felt as if she already knew. She glanced to where the princess stood frozen in place, and took pleasure in the glassy look in her red rimmed eyes.
"He toasted Prince Baelon," Otto Hightower continued, dragging out his tale for the dramatics. "Styling him the Heir for a Day."
"You are sure of this?" Viserys questioned.
"I corroborated this report with three separate witnesses. The evening was, by all accounts, a celebration."
Viserys leaned back in his seat, pondering for a moment before he turned to the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. "Ser Ryam, see that my brother is brought to the Great Hall. I must speak to him."
"At once, Your Grace." The old knight nodded and took his leave from the chambers.
★・・・・・・★
The sun had begun its descent by the time Prince Daemon had been located. Sharp steel blades jutted upwards from the floor, swords had been melted and forced to bend into the shape of a chair, the Iron Throne. The King's seat cut an imposing and frightening figure, demanding obedience.
Darla watched from the shadows on the edge of the room, moving behind the columns to remain hidden as the doors to the Great Hall opened.
"You cut the image of a conqueror, brother." The Rogue Prince joked as he neared his brother's throne.
"Did you say it?" Viserys asked, his voice low as he attempted to hold his anger back.
"I don't know what you mean." Daemon responded, glancing at the kingsguard creating a barrier between brothers.
"You will address me as Your Grace, or I will have my Kingsguard cut out your tongue." Viserys spat, fury simmering beneath his skin. "The Heir for a Day, did you say it?"
Daemon paused, his eyes flitting around the room as he thought of what to say. "We must all mourn in our own way, Your Grace."
"My family has just been destroyed. But instead of being by my side, or Rhaenyra's," Viserys leaned forward, his voice raising as he stared down at his brother. "You chose to celebrate your own rise! Laughing with your whores and your lickspittles! You have no allies at court but me! I have only ever defended you! Yet everything I've given you, you've thrown back in my face!"
"You've only ever tried to send me away. To the Vale, to the City Watch, anywhere but by your side. Ten years you've been King, and yet not once have you asked me to be your Hand!" Daemon yelled back.
"Why would I do that?"
"Because I'm your brother. And the blood of the dragon runs thick."
"Then why do you cut me so deeply?" Viserys's voice broke as he questioned Daemon's actions.
"I've only ever spoken the truth. I see Otto Hightower for what he is."
"An unwavering and loyal hand?"
"A cunt," Daemon snapped. "A second son who stands to inherit nothing he does not seize for himself."
"Otto Hightower is a more honorable man than you could ever be."
"He doesn't protect you. I would."
"From what?"
"Yourself." The arguing stopped as the two brothers stared at each other. "You're weak, Viserys. And that council of leeches knows it. They all prey on you for their own ends. Hells, I've seen the way that bastard attendant follows behind you."
"I have decided to name a new heir."
Darla's gaze snapped to the King, they had not discussed his succession. She worried for a moment, fearing her control was beginning to slip. She took a deep breath, forcing herself to relax. She would just have to be the one to give the King his firstborn son.
"I'm your heir." Daemon argued.
"Not anymore. You are to return to Runestone and your lady wife at once, and you are to do so without quarrel by order of your King."
As Daemon stepped forward the kingsgaurds unsheathed their swords, prepared to fight the Prince should he choose to act. Daemon stared up at his brother for a moment, before accepting that he had lost.
"Your Grace." Daemon spoke, his voice heavy with acceptance and sadness.
Darla stepped out of the shadows as the Prince turned to exit the Great Hall. She passed the kingsguard with ease, moving up the steps to kneel before the throne.
"My King." Darla whispered, holding her hand out for the King.
As Viserys lifted his hand his little finger dragged over the edge of one of the blades, a line of deep red quickly appearing. Darla carefully grabbed his hand, turning it over so she could study his wound.
"You're hurt."
"I am fine," He flipped his hand over, grasping Darla's chin between his thumb and forefinger. "It is merely a cut. Besides your touch is far kinder than Mellos's."
AN: This was supposed to be longer but I hurt so this is what you get
