The idea festered in her head like a fever in the body.

It brought Daella a hunger she never knew could exist. The hunger that came for power, for more, more, more. She did not know what to do about it, how to change years of planning, but she knew, she just knew, there had to be some way. She had to find it.

The castle had been quiet the following morning as Rhaenyra and her family took their leave back to Dragonstone. Daella would not miss them, despite the touching declarations presumably made by Rhaenyra to attempt saving her own skin. Daella saw through it, and frankly so did her brothers– Aegon and Aemond had been happy to see them gone. She hoped Rhaenyra would not return on dragonback. She doubted she would soon... the boys were helpless whelps, she would not be able to leave them settled, they'd crumble without their doting mother. Besides, she grew heavier with child each day– she ought not be flying such distances. It was better for Rhaenyra to be gone, to be away while Daella schemed.

How do I make him King? How do I change the succession? Killing Rhaenyra would solve most of our problems, but it would not make Aeneas King. It would make Aegon the King. Could I hurt my brothers, who I actually love? Could I hurt Aegon's children? No, no, no, not them, never them. The blood I want comes from Rhaenyra and Rhaenyra alone, not them. Never Aegon, never Helaena, they were my first babes. My Aemond, my Daeron, I raised them alongside my own little ones.

She did not wish to be Queen, but Otto had once said it was more likely that her father, in setting Rhaenyra aside, would choose her over Aegon. She could take the throne and abdicate it to her son. Marry him to a Lannister girl and ensure their support. Aeneas would be a better King than Aegon, to be sure. He was Hightower born as well, he'd have the support of Oldtown.

Convincing her father would not be easy, not when he had just defended Rhaenyra in front of the entire court. And after so long of her supporting Aegon... well, of course she'd supported him, it was before she had her son, before she knew she'd carry and give birth to a boy that was better in all ways, that could be the next Jaehaerys, a boy worth more than her brothers and nephews combined.

Aegon she might be able to declare unfit... the boy showed no promise, truly. Aemond would be harder to handle, but she could wed him off, get him out of the way. Or encourage him to be named to the Kingsguard and force him to take a vow of having no children. Daeron, perhaps they could make him a Maester. She knew Helaena would rather explore the world, she could arrange for her and the children to disappear while she pretended to the world they died of sickness, leaving Aegon with no heirs... she could put a sleeping draught in her brother's favorite cup and pretend he drank himself to death and smuggle him to where he'd be happier, too. He'd always wanted to go to Dorne, she could have Aeneas marry Qoren Martell's eldest daughter and convince him to hide Aegon there. Her brother would rather be away from court.

If Aemond tried to challenge the succession, he could only back his words up with a sword. Aeneas had him beat there. What he lacked was a dragon. That would not place him over Aegon or Aemond, who were the King's actual sons and known dragonriders. Perhaps if she ruined their name, the dragons would be meaningless. Frame them for something, send them to the Wall.

No, no, no, it was still easier to do away with Rhaenyra and her little bastards. Perhaps she could wait for Rhaenyra to come back, stage some sort of accident that would leave her bedridden. When Daemon came, Daella would have a blade waiting for him. Poison would be easy, too easy. The boys were bastards, she could remind the Realm of that and ship them off to Harrenhal or have Larys handle his nephews however he pleased. Anything to get them out of the way. The only ones who were legitimate were Aegon and Viserys– she could marry one to Jaehaera and keep the other to marry Aeneas's first daughter. She could marry her brothers to Baela and Rhaena, give Driftmark to Vaemond. If Rhaenys came calling, Rhaenys could suffer the consequences as well.

The first step was to prepare Aeneas, even before she found it in herself to speak to Otto about this. As soon as her mind was clear, she assigned the boy to find himself books in the library, the same ones she'd had to force Aegon to read– Aeneas would devour them faster, he'd want more and more. He was already an excellent student of the histories, this would not be difficult to him.

Tyland was her next target, and him she asked to send a letter at once to Jason about wedding his eldest daughter, Tyshara. She was but a year younger than Aeneas, and if she was sent to King's Landing at once, they could be wed and bed quickly– the sooner the better for Aeneas to have his own heirs. Now to remind Otto that this was his son who could be King, rather than his grandson...

The easiest thing would be to have her father sign some declaration, make some sort of believable change in the succession. Name her instead, forego Rhaenyra, and let Daella hand the throne right to Aeneas. The lords could hardly complain about her setting it aside in favor of her son. But her father would have to be lucid enough to speak with yet weary enough to manipulate... to find him in that state would not be simple, no. Daella would have to plan far too much and it was not going to be easy.

The following night, she went to see her father, intending to get a sense of whether he still had enough energy to be milked into something worthwhile. Her plan was foiled when she saw Alicent was with him, giving him his usual dose of milk of the poppy before bed. "Forgive me, I didn't expect him to have company," said Daella simply, though she wished Alicent had not already administered the dose. There was no point in rushing off, however. "How is he?"

"I don't know," admitted Alicent. "He was better at dinner. Today and yestereve... I don't know, he's the same as before." She tried to have him finish his tonic, but he barely touched it.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he muttered to her. She tried to shush him as Daella sat on the bed. He looked at her, with that empty eye socket fixed in her direction. His good eye was hardly open. He seemed to not know who she was at first; she was accustomed to that. She could see him thinking, trying to remember. Finally, it seemed he decided that he recognized her. "Oh... you wanted to know... if I believed it to be true."

She furrowed her brows. Well, that wasn't the conversation she was expecting to have with him. "Believe what, Father?"

"Don't you remember? Aegon..."

"Aegon? My brother, Aegon?"

"His dream. The song of ice... and fi..." She didn't know what he was saying. He'd never sounded so delirious. "It is true. What he saw in the North. The prince that was promised."

She blinked several times. "Dream? Song? The North? What are you going on about?"

"The Prince," he insisted, losing his breath. Alicent questioned, "Prince Aegon?" He went on, "To unite the realm against the cold... and the dark." He grabbed Daella's hand– he squeezed it so tight she almost gasped in pain. "It is you. You are the one. You must do this... you must do this." He was looking right at her, he hadn't looked so directly at her in so long...

Alicent and Daella shared a look. Daella had a feeling what it meant, and she did not like it one bit. I can still make something happen for my son... but the words were clear. My father has changed his mind, he has seen the truth, he wants Aegon to be King.

"Naught is to be said of this," muttered Daella as her father began drifting off to sleep. She tapped his hand gently, and still blinking at her, he muttered, "Aemma." She heard Alicent sigh– it was not the first time Daella had heard him accidentally call Alicent by her mother's name. It rubbed salt in an old wound for Daella. "Gods, he must not remember what she looked like. I hardly do."

Alicent's eyes turned up to her. They were scared– perhaps because of what they'd heard. Then, she said, "If you forget what she looked like, Daella, all you need do is face a looking glass. You are her ghost." She blinked several times, standing up quickly. "I will go to bed. You are right... naught is to be said. We will discuss this in the morning, you and I. Good evening, Daella."

She nodded in response, looking down at her sleeping father. Took you long enough, old man. She shook her head in disappointment, but her lips curled up with hope. Now, to make everyone see there is another option. In the end, I always knew my father's obsession with sons could not be changed. He killed my mother for it, it was something he always believed in. He chose Rhaenyra out of pity, and now he regrets it– she has caused him too much trouble.

It was then that she chose to carry herself to Otto's apartments, to tell him about her plans for Aeneas. He'd tell her she was insane, of course. In the end, that was what he'd reduced her to. But she knew the idea would begin to grow in his head– she only had to give it time. It was better to begin planning for it now... now that her father proved his true thoughts.

She took the passageways to avoid being seen. She did not frequent the Tower of the Hand, and any appearance there would be highly irregular. Otto may not be happy to see her, but he would not turn her away... in the end, he never could.

"The hour is late," he said when he heard her sneaking in through the trapdoor that remained accessible to her. She imagined she might find it blocked with a wardrobe or a trunk. She noticed he did not glance up from his parchment. "I presume it must be of the utmost importance if you are coming to me this way."

She hated his arrogance at times. "You know everything, Otto, why don't you tell me?" She slid herself out fully, shutting the door behind her. Brushing her skirt off, she approached him. "Our children didn't speak to each other at all today. They're glad Rhaenyra's gone, but Aeneas is upset that Aelora and Aemond appear to be... interested in one another."

This prompted him to look up. "Would that explain why you are so eager to see Aeneas wed to a Lannister girl? You believe it will distract him?"

Her lips curled. "Always the first to learn about these things, aren't you?"

"You may think you hold a tight noose around Tyland's neck, but I have worked with the man far longer. I know how to make him tell me what I want to know." He looked back down at his parchment as he said, "As I've known that he warms your bed these last years."

Daella rolled her eyes. "Will you scold me for that? You made it very clear to me that you no longer valued me. You may not get lonely, but I do. You will be surprised to know, however, that I sought you to... reminisce."

It caught his attention. She slinked to him like a cat, hands tucked behind her back. She saw the way he looked at her– he still wanted her, all these years later. A pity she no longer wanted him. Brushing aside his quill and ink well, she sat herself on his desk. "First, you must know that my father has changed his mind. Alicent and I were with him just now. He wishes for Aegon to be his heir."

He straightened up, eyes dark with interest. She still liked the way his brows furrowed when he was scheming. "He did?"

"He said Aegon would unite the Realm. I believe he has finally seen the truth of Rhaenyra. Only... I had very recently been thinking about what you said all those years ago. How much more likely it was that my father would supplant her as heir for me, not Aegon."

He dared to roll his eyes back at her. "If you came seeking my support in becoming Queen, you are far too late for that."

"I don't want to be Queen. I want the same thing our son wants. To be King." She leanead over, and noted the way he still glanced down at her exposed chest. "You know as well as I that Aeneas has many things that Aegon does not. He is a better sword than Aemond, more charismatic without being overly pious. Clever and driven, the sort that will take a stand for himself yet still heed wise counsel. He is not overconfident..."

"He is not the King's son," whispered Otto. "It will be incredibly difficult to plan for this. I... may have thought about it sufficient times, but it will not be easy, Daella."

"I know that. But I want to see what can be done. If anyone can figure out a way to make our son– your son, your Hightower boy– King, then it is you. If we convince my father to make me his heir, I will abdicate in Aeneas's favor. If Aegon is crowned, he could be quickly declared unfit to rule. Or even a Grand Council to be called with all eligible contenders put to the test. My son will beat my brothers in nearly every category."

He sighed, lacing his fingers together. "This could have all been avoided if you'd married Aegon as I wanted. You would be Queen and your children would be heirs already."

She flicked her leg up rhythmically, nearly kicking his elbow. "You know that never would've happened. You and I never could've done anything together if that were the case. Perhaps my first son wouldn't be like Aeneas. In the end, it doesn't matter. I only wanted to tell you what it is that I seek. What I think our boy deserves."

He caught her leg the third time she swung it at him. She held his gaze, wondering what he was thinking. He stood, holding her thigh for support. She knew that he was finally proud of her again– she was thinking like he was and coming for his approval before acting too rashly. It was as though he was finally forgiving her for the part she played in Harwin's death.

Daella craved his agreement, his approval. She wrapped her legs around his waist. "You remember, when we made our boy? Did you think he would be as clever as you? He is everything we wanted for a future King, Otto. Make him King. There must be a way, surely there is a way..."

"There is," he murmured, shutting his eyes as he felt her wiggling up to him, tucking her ankles together and rolling her hips against his. "Many ways, in fact. Not all are... pretty."

"I don't need pretty," she said. "I need effective. Can you do it or not?" She leaned her head back as she felt him starting to fall against her. She felt him inhaling at her neck, his warm breath like a fan coaxing tongues of flame to grow. She wanted him, she needed him. To say that she was good enough, that they could do this together.

"I can," he whispered in her ear. "Give me time and I will tell you how." She heard the rustle of his clothing as he adjusted his cloak– he wanted to hide from her that he wanted her, too, but she'd always known him too well. She pulled him closer, arching her back until she felt him.

He kissed her like a man starved in the deserts of Dorne. She clawed at his shoulders until she'd freed him of that insufferable cloak, she felt his fingers bruising her skin in an effort to relieve her of her dress. She didn't care to play games, she wanted him now, now, now, she wanted all these things and more, her perfect life and everything as it should be.

He ripped off her smallclothes as if they were another sheet of parchment in a pile of letters. When he drove into her, she almost sobbed. He rocked into her harder than he had before, so loud the desk creaked beneath them. Daella muffled her cries in his arm– she did not kiss him, not as she used to. Things were different now, it would take time to build back up to that.

It did not take him long to fill her. She had not achieved her own high, but she'd make him pay her back for that. Her appetite was satisfied– this fuck was his way of promising her that he would make their boy a King. She pushed him off as he caught his breath, composing herself and sliding her clothes back on. She didn't intend to look over her shoulder at him, only leave and go to bed with this assurance. He caught her arm and turned her to face him.

"Remember," he said carefully, "accept what you cannot control. You have been his primary instructor, to be sure... but let me handle this. Beyond this match you've made with the Lannister girl, send no more letters."

She wanted to roll her eyes at him again, but she did not want a repeat of their last argument. "Very well. Make our boy the next King and I'll need not do anything. Good night, Otto." Without another word she slipped away. To herself, she smiled. Aeneas, your father loves you very much... you don't know it now, but you may one day.

Otto had taken the rest of the manic energy that had been building in the past day as she nursed this idea. Daella wanted to know nothing more of this world– this world that would be changing soon, soon and beautifully soon now that the Realm would have a much better King to come.

But she had barely been asleep a few hours before her door was being opened. No one ever entered without knocking, save those closest to her. It was Alicent herself– fully dressed– striding into her room now as Daella rubbed the sleep out of her eyes. "Come with me," was all she said. Daella did not disobey.

Alicent was trembling, clearly upset. Daella didn't care to question her when she was like that– she'd get nothing from it. Something was wrong, but it must not concern any of Daella's children, or surely she would have said it already. They marched up together to the Tower of the Hand, a light still flickering beneath Otto's door. He'd not gone to sleep yet.

It was not until they were within, the door shut, that Alicent collapsed into a chair by the fire and said, "Viserys is dead."

A part of Daella must have been sad, but perhaps she'd spent too long mourning her father when he was still alive. She was more interested now– in fact, even relieved that it had happened when Rhaenyra was not here. This may not prove effective for her plan in Aeneas's favor... but there was always time. Her boy was young. Her father had not been.

Otto spoke first, "Who knows?" Alicent was quick to answer, "My handmaiden, Talya. Some of the servants. Daella and I saw him last night before he..." She sighed, she seemed almost mournful. "He told us he wished for Aegon to be king."

Daella was glad that Otto still remembered to look surprised. Perhaps it was partially genuine; now he knew Daella hadn't invented it. He'd once told her she had a wild imagination. "It is the truth," said Alicent, who seemed to interpret her father's silence as disbelief. "Uttered with his own lips. His last words to us and we were the only ones to hear it... and now he's dead."

"There is only one thing to do, then," said Daella, looking at Otto. Aegon will be the first King, but he will not last. He won't like it, I know that. "We must gather the council."

They were quick to summon the men of the council– even the insufferable and old Lord Lyman Beesbury had to be called. Daella would've rather left him in bed. It was the early hours of the morning, surely he needed his sleep more than the others.

For a moment, seeing Alicent take her father's old seat at the table, Daella felt sorrow. He would never again take that seat. Never twirl that little porcelain ball in boredom. She found comfort in knowing he was with her mother, with Baelon, with his parents, with the Targaryens that came before him. We will fix the mistakes you made, Father, be sure of that.

"What is it that could not have waited an hour?" asked Tyland, glancing at Daella and making clear his exhaustion. "Was Dorne invaded?"

It was Otto that told them, "The King is dead." The room went silent. "We grieve for Viserys the Peaceful, our sovereign, our friend."

Lord Beesbury gave a small cough, bowing his head. "Then..." He spoke shakily, "A raven must needs be sent to Dragonstone at once... to inform Princess Rhaenyra of her father's passing. Mayhaps Her Grace the Queen and the Princess Daella would care to write the message, so as to... soften these sad tidings with some words of condolence–"

"All this must needs wait," said Otto. "The King has left us a gift. With his last breath, he impressed upon the Queen and Princess his final wish– that his son, Aegon, should succeed him as Lord of the Seven Kingdoms."

Tyland now seemed pleased– and wide awake. "Then we may proceed now with the full assurance of his blessing on our long-laid plans."

"Indeed," agreed Daella as the porcelain balls fell into place– everyone was focused and ready now. "But it has come sooner than we were expecting."

"There is much to be done," agreed Otto. "Now, there are two among the captains of the City Watch that remain loyal to Daemon. Let us replace them."

"And subdue any of those loyalists," added Daella. "They cannot be allowed to find him and be the swords that rise for Rhaenyra. The Treasury, Tyland, all is as you mentioned?"

He nodded. "The Treasury is well in hand. The gold will be divided for safekeeping. Let ravens be sent to our allies, I will–"

Alicent interrupted, "Am I to understand that members of the Small Council have been planning secretly to install my son without me?" She looked to Daella– she seemed hurt. Perhaps it ached knowing that Daella had been trusted but not her. Otto saw potential in you, Alicent, but you did not follow through– you were always soft when it came to Rhaenyra. Me, apparently I was too harsh. Neither of us knew the whole plan, but yes... I knew more than you, all along.

"My Queen," said Lord Jasper gently, "there was no need to sully you with darkling schemes."

At this, Lord Beesbury seemed to finally grasp what they were doing. "I will not have this! To hear that you are plotting to replace the King's chosen heir with an imposter."

Otto scoffed, "His firstborn son is hardly an imposter."

"Rhaenyra is older than all the King's children by Queen Alicent," said Lord Beesbury sharply. "She has more Targaryen blood. Our late King chose her as his successor– hundreds of lords and landed knights swore fealty to the Princess Rhaenyra." He pointed a bony finger at Daella. "You were there, you know they had done obeisance to your sister, they swore solemn oaths to defend her rights."

Gods, she hated how he glared at her. She wanted to wipe that look off his stupid old face. "That was some twenty years ago," said Tyland. "Most of them now dead. I myself swore no such oath– I was a child at the time."

"Jaehaerys himself made Prince Aemon his heir despite Princess Daenerys being older," added Lord Jasper. "Maegor named Princess Aerea only until he had a son. Aegon the Conqueror was King before Visenya was Queen. The rights of a trueborn son always come before the rights of a mere daughter."

"You must remember even my father always intended for a male babe," said Daella. "He used to tell my mother stories of a male babe born wearing the Conqueror's crown. He said as much to Aicent. He was so obsessed with having a son, he killed my mother for it. He named Rhaenyra out of guilt, not a place of logic. Rhaenyra went on to shirk her duties by fathering bastards off that Harwin Strong, and now, well, her husband is Daemon of all people– Lord Flea Bottom is who will really rule us if she sits the throne. Daemon would encourage her to kill my siblings– Rhaenyra has never cared for them. And if Rhaenyra becomes Queen, then the bastard Jacaerys will follow."

Lord Beesbury used all his strength to stand, staring at Daella as if she'd murdered Viserys herself. "I am six-and-seventy years old. I have known Viserys longer than any who sit at this table. And I will not believe that he said this on his deathbed, alone, with only the boy's mother and sister as a witness. This is seizure! It is theft! It is treason!"

Archmaester Orwyle said gently, "Mind your tongue, Lyman."

He would not have it. "The King was well last night, by all accounts. Which of you here can swear that he died of his own accord?"

Daella slammed her hand on the table, feeling the blade beneath her sleeve nearly cut her skin. "Are you accusing us of regicide, Lord Beesbury?" She wanted him gone, it was a mistake to include him in the first place.

"Whether it was one of you, or all of you, I care not," he said, though the look in his eyes suggested he would even suspect her. As if she would have killed her own father. "I will have no part in this. Your mother would be ashamed of you, Princess Daella, she would–"

The blade flew out of her sleeve before she could think of what she was doing. She wanted him quiet, she wanted him gone, and it happened. It happened like with Ser Criston Cole, where the anger came and went in an instant. She hardly had a moment to react as the blade found his neck, as she saw blood gushing out and his wrinkled hands grasping at his throat. He fell into his seat, slumping forward lifeless with red oozing over the table.

Blood had been spilt, and for a moment, Daella felt more powerful than she ever had in her life.