The plan to form a rift between the Royces and the Targaryens worked... but it only worked one way.
For that Daemon just took actions in some shape or form that'll inevitably irk him.
Like how before anything could ferment, that mad prince just had to let out to his brother the truth that Otto expected him to hide for even longer.
Breaking the doubt he had orchestrated into something more concrete. Which was too early for Otto's liking.
So, all this time, Viserys is still foolishly hoping for reconciliation when he had already supplanted a perfectly good claimant in favor of a girl.
A travesty, but it should be in their favor, especially with his dear Alicent already consoling the grieving man all this time.
For a female heir meant nothing when a male Targaryen with Hightower blood could be born. And Otto knows that his daughter will not fail on such a duty he asks of her.
So, only Daemon and Ronan were the variables that he needed to make designs for.
Alas, he had overreached without complete information... and Viserys' foolish decision about the Night's Watch made him slip up on a contradiction.
Nevertheless, Otto Hightower felt that he had made quite the mistake.
Fortunately... the topic of the Bronze Order had already passed... in favor of the next.
Which was the death of Ryam Redwyne, formerly appointed as an ill-fitted Hand but more accomplished as Commander of the White Cloaks.
So, the council discussed the matter as they should... with the weight of the man's passing making Viserys apparently melancholic.
"Ser Ryam was a strong Lord Commander of the Kingsguard." The King said... voice steady and reminiscent. "But he was ill for some time."
"He passed in peace, I hope." He also wondered as his hand rested on the arm of his chair.
"Yes, Your Grace." Softly said Grandmaester Mellos as he informed. "He was found to have passed gently in his sleep. His remains are being prepared by the Silent Sisters."
"The succeeding Lord Commander, Ser Harrold, would like to make haste in finding Ser Ryam's replacement on the Kingsguard." The old maester then looked to the knight standing by in the room.
So, all eyes turned toward Ser Westerling as he said. "Your Grace... My lords... The Kingsguard must soon be restored to its full complement of seven."
The pressure of being the new leader and the bronze exploits was upon him... and the man can only continue. "With the help of the Hand, I've invited a number of fine candidates to court. All have passed fair trials."
Otto nodded at the mention of himself whilst the King nodded to thank him... but that's when the doors burst open... and...
"Four ships have now been lost!"
A late-arriving Lord Corlys Velaryon stormed into the chamber... with intensity. "The last one was flying my banner!"
"The Stepstones have now grown into a conflagration." He went on. "Yet you sit here and dither about court business."
Otto interjected. "If you've something to discuss, Lord Corlys..."
Only to be interrupted as well by Lord Corlys who accusingly asked. "I want to know what is to be done about my ships and my men?!"
Otto, ever calm, spoke before the King could answer. "The Crown will compensate you for your ship and crew, and make an offering to the men's families."
"I don't want compensation." Corlys snapped. "I want to seize the Stepstones by force and burn out this Crabfeeder."
"I am not prepared to start a war with the Free Cities." Decided the King, his tone firm.
"These pirates are not the Free Cities." Corlys assured, only for the King to ask. "Who do you think provides them with their ships and tender?"
At that, Coinmaster Beesbury cleared his throat to say. "In all of its history, my lord, the Seven Kingdoms has never entered open war with the Free Cities. Were that to happen, the losses would be incalculable."
Making the Lord of Tides turn serious as he staringly asked. "What reason does the Crabfeeder have to fear us?"
"The King's own brother has been allowed to seize Dragonstone and fortify it with an army of his gold cloaks." He continued. "Daemon has squatted there for over half a year without even a protest from the Crown. While said Crown also has no hold over those illustrious Bronzes at all!"
Truths that were hard to ignore by everyone in the room, especially for the one who wears said crown.
"I'll caution you, Lord Corlys." Otto as the Hand then sharply reminded. "A seat at the King's table does not make you his equal."
"I have acted, Corlys." Then said King Viserys, his voice firm and appeasing. "I've sent envoys to Pentos and Volantis to see if we might find common cause."
"Ships and men are at the ready." The King appeased some more. "The Stepstones will be settled in time."
Which made the Velaryon lord fall silent... but defiance was ever-present in his face.
Otto had pleasingly seen this kind of turbulence brewing in the extravagant "Lord of the Tides" for many meetings now... and it's a wonder how the man still hadn't blown up in a storm...
Just then, from the quieter side of the room, a feminine voice broke the tension...
"You have dragonriders, Father." The Princess Rhaenyra spoke out while raising her eyes to the King. "Send us."
Overreaching her station, especially when she is only a cupbearer at the moment.
"It isn't that simple, Rhaenyra," The King rejected, a bit taken aback, like the others in the room.
"But it would be a show of force." The Princess insisted.
While the Lord of Ships was in agreement. "At least the Princess has a plan."
"I only meant that we should at least..." She continued, but Otto's smooth voice cut her off. "Perhaps there's some better use for the Princess's talents, Your Grace."
The King seized on it like a man shown an escape. "Ah yes... why don't you take the Princess to see about the new Kingsguard posting, Lord Commander?"
And Ser Westerling could only nod in agreement. "A fine idea, Your Grace."
"This knight will protect you as well." Appeased the King to the princess. "You should choose."
But the reluctant princess had an aggrieved smile at that given task... and Otto simply decided to himself that he should oversee her deciding... and assess just how much of a moldable fool this named heir might be.
Compared to her father, that is.