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syndrossi · 3 months ago

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Resonant Trick or Treat Fill #13: Otto is annoyed by how perfect the twins are

This wasn't on the short list of prompts, but I was tricked into thinking it was, and honestly I'm glad because I had a blast writing Otto POV again.

x~x~x

It was outrage enough that Viserys had seen fit to appoint his nephews as cupbearers at small council meetings over his own sons. It had been a greater outrage still when Viserys had laughed at Otto saying as much, clapping him on the shoulder and assuring him that Aegon and Aemond would only be bored by such a duty.

Even if that were true—and, Otto was loath to admit, it likely was—it did not matter. Perception was far more important than whether the children in question personally enjoyed their duties. The king involving either of his sons in matters that often fell to an heir would have been a coup. The favor shown to Daemon’s children, meanwhile, reflected the king’s favor for his brother, strengthening his position instead.

And the greatest outrage of all was how the boys excelled at the position. Rhaegar was the very ideal of a crown prince, serious and thoughtful and frighteningly well-versed in the subtle tensions between houses. The whispers about how like the late Aemon Targaryen he was had only grown over time, and Otto had given up on correcting visiting lords who complimented either him or Viserys on how exemplary “Prince Aegon” was. Better that they continue to think that the boy was Aegon; perhaps it would benefit them years down the line, when the time came to subtly test house loyalties.

And where the Aemon comparisons came, inevitably the Baelon equivalents followed. Jon was the darling of the yard, the toast of every knight—those who dwelt within the Red Keep as well as those passing through in the service of great houses. He showed an equally bewildering talent for strategy as his brother, to Corlys’s everlasting delight. The City Watch had taken to calling him their “little Lord Commander,” apparently, in their nostalgia for Daemon’s brief, over-idealized stint as their leader.

At least Otto knew where he stood with Jon. Daemon’s eldest had his grandfather’s disapproving frown, and it was often directed at Otto. Though he lacked his father’s vitriol, it was clear that the young prince did not trust him.

Not so with Rhaegar. He listened as attentively when Otto spoke as he did the king, or his own father, and happily engaged him in discussion, skillfully enough that Otto found himself enjoying the conversation more often than not—and sometimes revealing more than he should. The only solace he could take in it was how infuriating Daemon seemed to find their exchanges.

He does get on well with Aemond, Otto mused. He was practically his grandson’s favorite topic. Rhaegar had done this, or that. Rhaegar liked to sing, so Aemond wanted lessons. Rhaegar had a bronze knife of House Royce, so Aemond wanted one—not of House Hightower, even, but of House Targaryen.

Whereas Aegon, who should have been the one exerting his own influence over his younger cousins, happily went along with whatever they wanted to do. Granted, it was not a terrible quality in a king to be more willing to be led than lead, as Viserys had amply demonstrated. A weak king allowed for a strong Hand, and Otto had far more confidence in his own ability to guide the realm than in his grandson ever developing a whisper of it.

But what Otto needed was for either of his eldest grandsons to influence their cousins half as effectively as they had been influenced in turn. Alicent had her part to play, as a motherly figure to two motherless children, but boys of their age were more likely to spurn a woman’s influence for the favor of their peers—or their father. And Daemon had influence enough over them already.

Not for the first time, Otto wondered whether it would in fact be better for Volantis to succeed in their scheme. Daemon’s love for his children went beyond doting. Losing either would cripple him, and leave him far easier to deal with.

But then he considered two such alarmingly precocious children, with their rapidly growing hatchlings, under the sway of a nation of slavers and heathens bent on conquest and reason reasserted itself. Some risks outweighed any potential benefit, and one of the Free Cities gaining dragons of its own was such a risk.

The session had drawn to a close without Otto even realizing, though it was no great concern. The last order of business had been related to storage of this autumn’s harvest, and whether more granaries needed to be built.

As his fellow council members filed out—one of Daemon’s rare absences—the young princes remained. Otto lingered, curious about what they might get up to. Both took a seat near Viserys, with Jon asking him what would be done about the excess grain that would rot before the new granaries were prepared.

“It can be resold, I suppose,” Viserys said, looking surprised by the question. “I trust Lord Beesbury to determine the proper course of action.”

“What about the Night’s Watch?” Jon asked. “Does the Crown not send a portion north for their upkeep?”

A curious interest for a child, though Otto supposed the stories of magical horrors beyond the Wall could have stirred his imagination. The royal tutors might also have recently covered the subject, though he would have expected some chatter from his grandsons as well.

Viserys nodded. “We do. Lord Beesbury ensures that we send a fair share of the harvest, just as Lord Wylde sends men to bolster their ranks.”

“Why can we not send the excess to the Night’s Watch? Doubtless they will have the storage for it.”

Viserys frowned in thought, as though seriously considering the request, leading Otto to intervene at last. “Young prince, the Crown sets aside a generous portion for the Night’s Watch. Sending more than they need benefits no one but the rats.”

The child raised a dark brow. “Do we send all that they request, then?”

“One lesson it is important to learn, my prince, is that every man, lord or beggar, will ask for more than is needed, expecting to receive less,” Otto said patiently. “And once indulged, will ask for even more.”

Jon met his gaze with a hint of contempt, looking more like his father now than Prince Baelon, before turning back to Viserys, as though dismissing Otto. “Our great-grandmother, Queen Alysanne, believed it important to maintain the Night’s Watch.”

“And thus they were granted the New Gift,” Otto countered, unable to help the irritation rising in him. “Which itself provides ample food and coin via tithes.”

“So ample that they must still rely upon the Crown and great houses for more?”

“Lord Martell himself said that this was an exceptional harvest,” Rhaegar said, casting his brother a glance before fixing Viserys with an earnest look. “With such plenty, it is unlikely that Lord Beesbury will be able to demand the coin that the excess would be worth otherwise, unless we seek to feed the Triarchy, and they would surely prefer to seize it on the seas. And yet whoever the Watch must pay to bolster their stores will also seek a high price.”

Viserys nodded once more, as though the princes sitting at the table were their council counterparts, rather than children of eight years. His smile suggested he found their arguments charming, at the very least. “Your proposal?”

“A harvest gift,” Rhaegar said. “A reminder of the support and generosity of our house. The coin the Night’s Watch saves by not having to look elsewhere will allow them to attend to other needs that we are less able to provide for. Weapons, clothing.”

Both of which were in shorter supply, due to the need to bolster the Stepstones.

Otto bit back a frown, disturbed by how neatly both had laid out their argument, almost as though planned. And Rhaegar seemed to have already realized that Viserys had a weakness for gestures of generosity. In bringing up the New Gift, Otto had almost set him up for the suggestion of a “harvest gift,” and for one paranoid moment, he wondered if he had been baited into doing so.

No, he decided. However persuasive, they were but eight. Any blunder on Otto’s part had been coincidence, the parallels of the New Gift and a harvest gift a mere accident.

Meanwhile, Viserys looked on the verge of agreement.

“What begins as a gift may grow into an expectation,” Otto cautioned. “Is it not important for the Night’s Watch to learn to support itself with the generous allowances it has already been given?”

Jon’s stare narrowed, the grey sharp as steel and equally unyielding. “Winter comes for all, but especially the men of the Watch. Their duties involve far more than braving snow and ice, or even wildlings. What lies beyond is so great a threat that the First Men built a wall three hundred miles long to keep it out.”

Viserys, who had relaxed into his chair during the conversation, suddenly straightened, an unusual focus stealing over him as he gazed at his elder nephew. “You feel strongly about this, both of you?”

“Yes,” they said in perfect unison, down to a grave nod of their heads.

“It is a sound argument,” Viserys said, grasping Jon’s hand first, then Rhaegar’s. “I shall see it done. Thank you for your counsel.” He then looked to Otto, beaming with such pride one might be mistaken for believing them to be his own sons rather than Daemon’s. “Are they not possessed of such wisdom for their age?”

Otto managed a smile in response. “They are a credit to their tutors.”

It was still unfathomable to him that their maester at the Gates of the Moon had declined his generous offer to join the ranks of the royal tutors at the Red Keep. But he also knew that even the most skilled smith was limited by the quality of his ore. That Daemon had seemingly resurrected his own father and uncle through his children was uniquely aggravating.

Aemond has some worth to him and is willing to apply himself, at the very least. Aegon was the perfect puppet-in-waiting, but the effort needed to prop him up was beginning to seem colossal. And still no dragons between them.

Perhaps he should count himself blessed that House Targaryen did not practice adoption, as some rulers in Essos did.

I did not think to fear their influence over Viserys.

They had settled too easily into the Red Keep. Otto thought back to their first few days, when Alicent had told him about comforting an inconsolable Rhaegar, grieving his mother, both children recovering from their captivity. That was what they needed more of. To throw the children into unbalance. To keep them distracted and vulnerable.

Rhea is the key. A sore point for Daemon, his loathing for her at odds with his sons’ feelings for their mother. Otto recalled that Lord Shett and his wife were recently arrived in King’s Landing, both staunch friends and allies to the late Rhea Royce. Perhaps there is a way she may yet haunt them.

And if that were to fail, Crayne had at least passed along some useful information before turning traitor, not least being the boys’ fondness for Allard Royce’s wife, Lynda. Daemon’s fury toward Allard was fierce, even by Daemon’s standards. If properly provoked, it could solve a great many problems for Otto.

In the meantime—

Otto smiled at Rhaegar. “Helaena has been asking after you and Qelebrys. I wondered if you might like to call upon her with me.”

Rhaegar returned his gaze with an uncertain expression. “What of Jon?”

His granddaughter was fond of both, but only one of Daemon’s sons had shown signs of being receptive to his company. Otto shot Viserys a conspiratory look, knowing that he would interpret it correctly. It is never too early to plan matches.

Rhaegar would not be his choice for Helaena—a match between her and Aegon would better serve his claim by reinforcing his adoption of Valyrian tradition, like Jaehaerys before him—but the suggestion seemed to tickle Viserys’s fancy, as Otto had known it would.

“Shall we go hunt down your father?” Viserys asked Jon, smiling as he laid a hand atop his head. “I am sure he will be eager to hear of your successful council session.”

The brothers exchanged a look across the table that almost seemed an entire conversation. Jon frowned at the end of it, looking displeased as he stood, casting one final glare in Otto’s direction. “He had business with Ser Gustan.”

“It has been too long since I’ve paid a visit to the City Watch,” Viserys said amiably. “Join me.”

Otto offered his hand to Rhaegar, who took it after only a brief pause. Daemon might not be present to witness it, but he treasured the thought of his reaction should he hear of it later. I shall have to see that Alicent makes an appearance at the nursery, so that he can be reminded of the comfort of a mother’s love.

#resonant trick or treat #resonant trick or treat fills #otto's motto: always be scheming (or seething)

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