The next day.
The first rays of morning sunlight spilled across the Red Keep as servants bustled about, beginning another busy day.
After finishing his usual breakfast of warm milk and bread, Rhaegar went straight toward the council hall with Rhaenyra.
Servants and knights along the corridors dared not stop them. Their path was smooth and unimpeded.
When they entered the grand council hall, it was already filled with voices and movement.
At the center, King Viserys—around thirty years old—was smiling warmly as he spoke with several of his ministers.
Everyone knew that Viserys was a gentle and kind king.
No matter who he faced, that benevolent smile never left his face.
"Rhaenyra, perfect timing. We were just discussing the royal hunt," Viserys said cheerfully, noticing her graceful figure as she entered. He immediately gestured for her to join in the discussion.
"Father, do you still remember me?"
Rhaegar stepped forward, holding his sister's hand, his violet eyes gazing quietly at his father with a trace of melancholy.
"Oh—Rhaegar!"
Viserys's eyes widened as he saw the small, thin figure at the doorway. The next moment, he immediately rose from his seat.
"Prince Rhaegar."
The king stood up, and all the other ministers quickly followed, rising and greeting him respectfully.
After all, Rhaegar was the king's firstborn son—
A prince by birth, deserving of respect.
Had it not been for the frail little prince's long coma after birth, the position of heir would never have fallen to Rhaenyra.
Sweeping his gaze across the gathered ministers, Rhaegar lifted a hand lightly, signaling that they needn't be so formal. His lips curved into a calm, gentle smile.