Understanding the significance of a regent, the ministers' expressions changed dramatically, each harboring different thoughts.
Otto looked up in surprise, his eyes narrowing imperceptibly.
Jasper and Meros shuddered, hesitant to speak after just being reprimanded.
Apart from Prime Minister Leonor, who expressed opposition, Linman struggled to stand and solemnly stated, "Your Majesty, you are in your prime. Appointing a regent too soon would be detrimental to the kingdom's stability."
A kingdom cannot go a day without a ruler, just as the sky cannot have two suns.
Throughout history, regents had only been appointed when a king was either too young or physically incapable of ruling.
Viserys did not meet either of these conditions.
Thus, Linman believed it would be reckless to grant regency, as it would dilute the king's rightful authority.
The sharp words of the two ministers left Viserys momentarily speechless.
It was the first time in his political career that he had been so bluntly rejected.
Scanning the ministers' faces, Viserys frowned slightly, but his resolve only grew stronger.
His eldest son was wiser than him and could offer valuable counsel for the kingdom.
Just moments ago, he had noticed that his son's influence in the Privy Council was insufficient, preventing him from fully realizing his ambitions.
Once the thought took root, it was impossible to dismiss.
Viserys turned to his stunned eldest son, his expression more serious than ever. "Rhaegar, tell me your thoughts on the regency."
Rhaegar was caught off guard, shocked by his father's sudden decision.
Just minutes ago, he had never even considered the title of regent.
Before he could gather his thoughts, someone else was even more eager.
Rhaenyra's eyes sparkled as she tugged at his sleeve, whispering, "Rhaegar, answer quickly."
Whether their father's decision was impulsive or well thought out, this was an opportunity that had to be seized.
Rhaegar turned to look at her, his gaze filled with uncertainty.
She met his eyes with an encouraging nod.
With just one glance, the siblings had communicated everything they needed to.
A thousand thoughts raced through his mind. Taking a deep breath, Rhaegar rose from his seat.
Seeing his son make a decision, Viserys offered words of encouragement. "Rhaegar, no matter what you choose, I will support you."
Rhaegar's eyes flickered slightly before he spoke seriously, "As Prime Minister Leonor and Minister Linman have said, the position of regent is of great importance."
Upon hearing this, the ministers turned their attention toward him.
Some looked solemn, others skeptical, and a few even resistant.
Many wondered if the crown prince would exercise restraint and decline the position.
Unfortunately for them, they were bound to be disappointed.
Standing tall and composed, Rhaegar declared, "Today, I am reminded of House Tully's motto: 'Family, Duty, Honor.'"
The ministers looked puzzled, but Viserys and Rhaenyra gazed at him with anticipation.
Rhaegar took note of their expressions, a bright smile forming on his lips. "What I mean to say is that my father believes in me. As such, I will not shy away from the responsibility of regency."
Ignoring the worried expressions of Leonor and Linman, he continued, "House Tully's motto is admirable, and I believe that in governing the kingdom, we should uphold the principles of family, duty to the realm, and personal honor."
"During my tenure as regent, I will give my utmost to assist in governing and maintaining the kingdom's peace."
With that, he stepped forward and bowed respectfully to his father, who sat at the head of the table.
Listening to his son's resolute speech and watching the confidence on his handsome face, Viserys felt a wave of relief and genuine joy.
People subconsciously seek what they lack.
Viserys had always lacked decisiveness and firmness, yet he could always find those qualities in his eldest son.
He felt immense pride and glanced around at the silent ministers, knowing that some were displeased.
It didn't matter—he would support his son.
Pushing aside Alicent's assisting hands, Viserys' expression shifted, adopting the regal demeanor befitting a king. Gone was his previous hesitation and uncertainty.
He stepped forward, placed his hands on Rhaegar's shoulders, and smiled. "Stand tall, my son."
"Father," Rhaegar responded softly, straightening his posture obediently.
At that moment, he could clearly feel his father's favoritism.
Accepting the regency filled him with a sense of security.
"Good," Rhaenyra grinned and clapped her hands.
At her delighted exclamation, Viserys and Rhaegar exchanged smiles before turning in unison to face the assembled ministers.
With their silver hair and violet eyes, father and son stood together, their matching smiles tinged with an unmistakable pride hidden beneath their gentle exteriors.
*Clap, clap, clap…*
Otto was the first to applaud, signaling his compliance. The other ministers soon followed suit.
Leonor and Linman, realizing that the king's mind was set, reluctantly joined in.
With that, the meeting concluded, and the doors were opened for departure.
*Cough, cough…*
The moment he stepped out of the chamber, Viserys covered his mouth, unable to suppress a few coughs.
Alicent stepped forward to support him, grumbling, "I told you to drink less, but you insisted on getting yourself drunk."
"It's fine. I just need some sleep," Viserys chuckled, wrapping an arm around his wife.
Trailing behind, Rhaegar observed the scene.
"Your Highness."
At the doorway, Ser Erryk, clad in silver armor and a white cloak, greeted Rhaegar and followed his duty by escorting the king and queen.
Rhaegar halted, his gaze fixed on his father's retreating figure.
At some point, the once-straight posture had begun to show signs of stooping.
Recalling his father's unkempt beard and weary demeanor during the meeting, a sense of unease settled in Rhaegar's heart.
If this continued, he might have to ascend the throne sooner than expected.
"Rhaegar, what are you looking at?"
Rhaenyra, who had been walking ahead, turned back with a smile.
Rhaegar didn't hide his concerns, murmuring, "Father's health isn't great. That affects the stability of the kingdom."
"You still have Ouroboros. Why don't you use it to help heal Father tonight?" Rhaenyra suggested, taking his hand as she offered a solution.
Rhaegar forced a bitter smile and said, "It seems that's our only option."
For years, he had often used the Ouroboros to ease his father's wounds.
But in the end, it was only a temporary fix, never a true cure. The wounds would heal, only to break open again, creating an endless cycle of suffering.
"Don't worry. Father isn't as fragile as we imagine—we both know that."
Rhaenyra softly reassured him, wrapping her arms around his waist.
Sensing something unusual, Rhaegar lowered his head in confusion.
At that moment, he met Rhaenyra's burning, affectionate gaze.
*Smooch~*
Rhaenyra suddenly grabbed his neck, stood on her tiptoes, and kissed him passionately. With a proud smile, she declared, "I love how commanding you are during the Small Council meetings."
So assertive! There was a certain arrogance, an undeniable presence.
It was a level of respect she had never received when she was heir to the throne.
Rhaegar smiled, but the joy he expected did not come.
Instead, he gently wrapped his arms around her waist, lowering his gaze to meet hers, his eyes filled with a trace of sorrow.
Rhaenyra had once been the crown princess, yet her treatment was vastly different from his.
The primary reason? Simply that she was a woman.
"Rhaenyra, you and I are both Father's favored children," Rhaegar murmured.
Rhaenyra pressed her lips together before whispering with deep emotion, "I don't trust Father—I only trust you."
Their father may have favored her, but he had also stripped her of her inheritance.
No matter how much she loved him, there was always a thorn in her heart.
"Rhaenyra…"
Rhaegar said no more, his gaze dropping to her soft, crimson lips.
The doors to the Small Council chamber faced a long hallway with a stained-glass window.
Outside, the sun shone brightly, and birds chirped merrily.
Suddenly, a small white snake caught a bird in its mouth and presented it to another white snake.
The two snakes touched heads, flicking their tongues at each other as they shared the meal.
…
Time passed.
By the time Rhaegar and Rhaenyra leisurely descended from the tower, it was already past noon.
Compared to the councilors who had left much earlier, the siblings were quite late.
*Thud! Thud! Thud!*
As they walked, they neared the godswood and heard the distant sounds of clashing and striking.
Rhaegar snapped out of his thoughts and turned his attention toward the noise.
In a clearing among the trees, Helaena and Aemond were sparring with wooden swords.
Helaena had abandoned her usual dresses, wearing a white blouse, brown trousers, and a pair of deerskin boots.
For better movement, she had tied back her thick, silver-gold curls with a headband, letting them fall behind her.
Aemond was dressed similarly, though he wore a green cloak. His expression was serious as he focused on the duel.
Rhaegar and Rhaenyra exchanged glances and silently approached.
At that moment, Helaena spread her legs into a stance, gripping her sword with both hands as she launched an attack.
Aemond, caught off guard, raised his sword in a frantic defense, blocking each strike just in time.
"Ha!"
With a sharp cry, Helaena rushed forward and brought her sword down forcefully.
Yes, *brought it down*.
Following Rhaegar's advice, she had spent the night contemplating and decided to become stronger—to protect herself.
Perhaps she could become a great swordswoman.
But with no one to teach her, she could only swing the sword wildly.
She followed a simple philosophy: *The strong wield their swords against the stronger, while the weak wield theirs against the weaker.*
Believing herself to be weak, she had chosen to spar with her younger brother, Aemond, who *seemed* even weaker.
*Clang!*
Aemond sidestepped and deflected her attack with an upward strike, sending Helaena's wooden sword flying.
Because she had rushed forward too fast, Helaena lost her balance and fell flat on her stomach with a loud *thud*.
"Sister!"
Aemond panicked, immediately throwing aside his wooden sword to help her up.
It hadn't been easy for him either.
According to Targaryen tradition, boys began combat training at six years old.
Helaena had insisted on sparring with him, but the moment he showed even a little skill, he won effortlessly.
Rhaegar stepped forward, smiling as he asked, "Can you stand?"
"Big Brother!"
Seeing Rhaegar suddenly appear, Aemond stiffened, feeling uneasy as he stood in place.
He sneaked a glance at Helaena, who was slowly getting up, his heart pounding with worry.
He feared that Rhaegar would scold him for "bullying" their sister.
"Well done. Your movements were clean and decisive."
Rhaegar merely smiled, offering a rare word of praise.
It was just a spar—bumps and bruises were inevitable.
To be honest, Aemond had good reflexes, far superior to the lazy Aegon.
Hearing Rhaegar's approval, Aemond let out a breath of relief and hurried to help Helaena to her feet.
Helaena looked dejected as she brushed the dust off her clothes.
She was two years older than Aemond, yet she had lost so easily.
"Brother."
Noticing Rhaegar's amused gaze, Helaena greeted him shyly.
Rhaegar picked up her fallen wooden sword and asked, "Do you enjoy practicing swordsmanship?"
"No!"
She shook her head like a rattle drum, but her eyes were filled with melancholy as she admitted, "But when I'm practicing, I don't see those fragmented visions."
*(End of Chapter)*