Understanding the significance of the regency, the advisors reacted with mixed emotions.
Otto looked up in surprise and narrowed his eyes slightly. Jasper and Mellos winced, still stung by the recent rebuke, and remained silent. Only Lyonel, the Hand of the King, spoke up, while Lyman rose solemnly and said, "Your Grace, you are in the prime of life. Appointing a regent prematurely could destabilize the kingdom."
The king cannot be without a master, and two rulers cannot coexist. The position of regent was traditionally filled when the king was young or incapacitated. Viserys did not fit those criteria, and Lyman believed that sharing the king's power was a risky move.
The advisors' directness left Viserys momentarily speechless. It was the first time he had been so bluntly opposed in a council meeting. But as he looked around the room, his resolve only grew stronger. He realized that his eldest son, wiser and more capable, needed more authority to effectively implement his vision.
With newfound determination, Viserys turned to Rhaegar, his voice solemn, "Rhaegar, state your position on the regency."
Rhaegar was taken aback by his father's sudden suggestion. Moments ago he had not considered the title of Regent. He felt a tug on his cloak and heard Rhaenyra whisper, "Rhaegar, answer."
Whether his father's suggestion was a whim or a carefully considered plan, Rhaegar knew he had to seize the opportunity. He glanced at Rhaenyra, who nodded in encouragement.
Taking a deep breath, Rhaegar rose from his chair. Viserys, sensing his son's decision, offered his support, "Rhaegar, whatever you choose, I will support you."
Rhaegar straightened and addressed the council, "As Lyonel and Lord Lyman said, the position of Regent is a matter of great importance."
The eyes of the advisors were on him, some questioning, others resisting. They speculated whether Rhaegar would refuse the regency to maintain moderation. But they were to be disappointed.
With a calm demeanor, Rhaegar explained, "Today I have been reflecting on House Tully's motto: Family, Duty, Honor."
The advisers were puzzled, but Viserys and Rhaenyra looked on expectantly. Rhaegar continued, smiling, "Father believes in me, so I accept the position of regent."
Ignoring the worried looks of Lyonel and Lyman, he added, "The Tully motto resonates with me. To govern the kingdom, we must prioritize family, duty to the realm, and personal honor."
"I pledge to assist and maintain the peace of the kingdom during my regency."
He left his seat and bowed to his father. Viserys, listening to his son's confident speech, felt a surge of joy. What he lacked in perseverance and decisiveness, he found in his eldest son.
Viserys was doubly pleased to know that some of his advisors were unhappy. But he was determined to stand by Rhaegar and support his regency.
Pushing away Alicent's supporting hands, Viserys' demeanor changed. He assumed the majestic posture of a king, shedding any trace of indecision.
Stepping forward, he placed both hands on his eldest son's shoulders and smiled, "Stand up, my son."
"Father," Rhaegar said softly, obediently straightening his spine. In that moment, he felt his father's unwavering support and accepted the position of regent with a resolute heart.
"Good," Rhaenyra exclaimed, clapping her hands in approval.
Viserys and Rhaegar exchanged a knowing look before turning their attention to the council. Father and son, both with silver hair and purple eyes, smiled in unison, their gentle exteriors masking a shared condescension.
Otto was the first to clap, signaling his approval, and the other advisors followed suit. Even Lyonel and Lyman, despite their reservations, joined in the applause, acknowledging the king's decision.
The meeting ended, and as the doors opened, Viserys stepped out, but soon covered his mouth, coughing uncontrollably.
Alicent rushed to his side, "You should drink less wine. It's not good for your health."
"It's all right," Viserys replied with a smile, embracing his wife. "I just need some rest."
Rhaegar, lingering behind, watched his father's weakened state.
"Prince," a silver-armored, white-robed Erryk greeted him, fulfilling his duty as Rhaegar was the last to leave, following the king and queen.
Rhaegar paused to watch his father's distant figure, noticing how his once straight back had hunched over time. Thinking about his father's tired condition, he felt a pang of worry. If this continued, he might have to take the throne sooner than expected.
"Rhaegar, what are you looking at?" Rhaenyra asked, smiling back.
Rhaegar did not hide his concern, "Father's health is not good. It's worrying."
"Don't you have that serpent rune? Use it to help Father heal tonight," Rhaenyra suggested, holding his hand.
Rhaegar sighed, "I'll try."
He had occasionally used the Serpent Rune to heal his father's wounds, but the relief was temporary and often caused more pain in the long run.
"Don't worry," Rhaenyra comforted him, wrapping her arms around his waist. "Father is stronger than he appears. We both know that."
Sensing something different in her tone, Rhaegar looked down and met her loving gaze.
Rhaenyra stood on her tiptoes, kissed him enthusiastically, and said proudly, "I liked the way you took charge at the Small Council."
Rhaegar smiled, though he felt no pleasure. Holding her waist, he met her gaze with a hint of sadness.
"Rhaenyra, you and I are both father's favorite children," he said softly.
Rhaenyra pursed her lips, "I don't believe in Father as much as I believe in you."
Though she loved her father, the memory of being pulled down from her position as heir left a lingering thorn in her heart.
"Rhaenyra..." Rhaegar started, but stopped. His gaze fell on her soft red lips.
Outside the Small Council's stained glass window, the sun shone brightly and birds chirped. A small white snake picked up a bird and handed it to another snake. The two snakes touched heads and shared the meal, symbolizing unity and partnership.
...
Half of the afternoon had passed by the time Rhaegar and Rhaenyra emerged from the attic. They had lingered long after the other royal advisors had left.
As they walked, they reached the Godswood and were greeted by the sound of clashing swords.
Rhaegar snapped out of his thoughts and looked over.
In a clearing, Helaena and Aemond were sparring with wooden swords. Helaena had swapped her usual skirts for a white shirt, brown pants, and deerskin boots. Her fluffy silver-gold curls were tied back with a hairband for ease of movement. Aemond wore a similar outfit, with the addition of a green cloak, his face serious as he engaged in battle.
Rhaegar and Rhaenyra exchanged glances and approached quietly.
At that moment, Helaena, legs braced and sword in both hands, launched a determined attack. Aemond, on the defensive, fumbled to block each blow.
"Ha!" Helaena cried softly, charging forward and swinging her sword with all her might.
Heeding Rhaegar's advice to become stronger, Helaena had decided to train herself to become a capable swordswoman. With no formal training, her swings were wild and unrefined. Believing herself to be weak, she chose her seemingly weaker brother, Aemond, as her sparring partner.
With a deft dodge and upward swing, Aemond disarmed Helaena, sending her wooden sword flying from her hands. Unbalanced, she stumbled and fell to the ground.
"Sister!" Aemond, startled, dropped his sword and rushed to help her up.
It wasn't easy for him either. Targaryen tradition dictated that boys begin fighting training at the age of six, and Helaena had relentlessly pushed him to spar with her, taking advantage of his slightly superior skills.
Rhaegar approached with a smile, "Are you all right?"
"Brother!" Aemond, startled by Rhaegar's sudden appearance, stood frozen, fearing a reprimand for seemingly bullying his sister.
"Well done, Aemond. That was a clean move," Rhaegar said with a smile.
It was just a friendly spar, and bumps and bruises were part of the process. He recognized Aemond's talent, which surpassed that of their lazy brother, Aegon.
Aemond sighed in relief and hurried to help Helaena, who was already standing and dusting off her clothes. She looked down, disappointed at her defeat.
"Brother," Helaena shyly greeted Rhaegar as he smiled at her.
Rhaegar picked up the fallen wooden sword. "Do you like practicing swords?"
"No!" Helaena shook her head vigorously, then added quietly, "But when I practice, I don't see these fragmented images."
(Word count: 1,386)