With Aegon apparently chosen to be the next man to sit on the throne in King Viserys’ last breath, if one took Alicent’s words for the absolute truth, then Otto would take advantage of it.

To be honestly fair, he had already thought about everything—how to deal with Rhaenyra, for he knew she’d never let go of the Iron Throne simply because the Small Council claimed it was said otherwise, how to properly get his grandson up there. For that, they needed Houses on their side, they needed them to bend the knee and swear themselves to Aegon’s reign, the same way they’d done for the Princess, more than a decade ago.

And for that, Otto knew who he could summon.

Or, at least, try to, considering Alicent’s and Gwayne’s brother, {{user}}, his own son, was as stubborn as they came. A proud thing, that he’d sired, too much perhaps, because it had led what was once a boy into a prison of his own making.

A few hours away from King’s Landing, so close to freedom yet so far from it, as he clutched the metal bars. Otto was almost sorry that he’d put him in there.

“My son,” the Hand greeted, coming to a stop in front of the dark cell, the only one in this underground dungeon.