Viserys expected the news to spread through the Red Keep...
And sure enough, what began as whispers in the corridors soon grew into open talk in the courtyards... and by nightfall, it had already reached the city beyond the walls.
Oftentimes it made him worry about the sanctity of the Small Council and their important talks... and how worrying it is that they seem to be easily spread elsewhere, in some shape or form.
In any case, the main event of the day was not actually of the Small Council... but more on his meeting with Lady Rhea and her son.
Of how the Royces met up with him... and how he just gave his greetings, apologies, and commendations...
He wondered if these made the gossipers ponder... of how this audience might actually be about ascertaining Ronan Royce's lineage
Of how that boy... once living under a bastard's name and proven himself a knight of the Vale... had stood before himself under kingly scrutiny.
And though the truth was yet unproven... and he himself was partial to the boy probably not being his nephew.
The King was still in doubt.
So... Viserys sat in his solar, looking at the stone moldings of his model of Old Valyria... the flickering candlelight casting long shadows across the towers and bridges of his doomed ancestral empire.
He stared at it for a long while before speaking.
"From being a babe to a strapping young man…" Viserys murmured, more to himself than to anyone. "My nephew... if he truly is that... has had to bear the weight of my brother's sins. All of our misguided faults."
Queen Aemma sat close by, gazing softly by the fire. She looked to him when she heard the tremor in his voice.
"You speak of him as though you've already judged him so." She said gently.
Viserys sighed, rubbing his temples. "I speak as one who doesn't know what to believe. The boy is... uncanny. Maybe Daemon's likeness is in some of his features, but his bearings are different. And so..." He shook his head ."I wonder if the whispered likeness is just a faulty rumor. Since the realm sees what it wishes to see."
Aemma asked aside. "And what do you see, husband?"
Viserys hesitated. "I see a boy I do not understand. A boy who might be the blood of the dragon but more so just a half-bronze beneath the sun."
He looked to her then, weary, uncertain. "I could have asked her, you know. The Lady Rhea. I could have asked the question that now burns in my mind... and yet, I did not."
Aemma tilted her head. "Why?"
"Because…" he exhaled, bitterly. "Because I always hesitate when it comes to matters like this. Because if I asked, I would have had to know. And if I knew, then I would have to act."
He rose, pacing before the table, his hands clenched behind his back. "If she said the boy was Daemon's, then that would make me the fool that was gullible enough to believe falsifications. Taint the judgement of my forebears and more so my grandsire, the Conciliator."
"But if she said that the boy was not Daemon's, then I would be a bigger fool to think that she would say so. As adamant as she has been that the boy is of the House of the Dragon for years now."
"Either way, Daemon should be seeing insult where there was none intended. When I only mean to ascertain. And gods help me, Aemma... I am weary of quarreling with him."
He stopped before the model again, staring down at its unique towers. "So I choose silence and being clueless then and there. Currently standing here no wiser than before."
Aemma rose quietly and went to him, laying a gentle hand upon his arm. "You cannot blame yourself for this confusion that Daemon and Lady Rhea sowed long ago. We tried, and perhaps it is best that they resolve it amongst themselves."
"She does have my respect, you know. That Lady Rhea." Viserys admitted. "Even when she was so visibly angered by my inactions earlier, she kept her temper. I thought she would make demands, but it would seem she's chosen to just bear it all in silence. Like she has this recent years…"
He sighed hard. "And her son... as her prize son stood before me, proud and clever and far more composed than I expected. It really stunned me all the more... and perhaps maybe it's for the best that he grew up elsewhere. Even better that he continue to do so... with his heritage unclear as it is."
"Then decide it as such." Aemma said softly. "You are the King. Perhaps that boy is something else entirely, and he has no need for recognition as one of those with fire in his blood. For it is clear that he's already paving a way for himself… without the Targaryen name aiding him up or weighing him down.
Viserys looked at her then, his expression softening. "You make it sound so simple."
"It never is." She smiled faintly. "But it must sound simple, or else you'll never sleep."
He gave a low chuckle, tired but genuine. "You always know how to ease me."
"Someone must." She teased lightly and tenderly she appeased. "Whatever comes of this... whether the boy is truly your nephew or not. Or if it is your choice to let the ambiguity be. I will stand with you, Viserys. As I always have."
He reached for her hand, pressing it to his lips. "That, my love, is the only certainty I have left."
They stood together in silence, the hum of the night wind echoing faintly through the open window.
Outside, the city whispered and wondered.
By their chambers, the King was resolving his uncertainties while the Queen counseled her support.