Rhaenyra's body trembled slightly.
It's not a violent, obvious tremor, but like a spider thread blown by a very small wind, so thin that it's almost invisible, but it's definitely moving.
She could feel some numbness on her fingertips, spreading from her fingertips to her roots, as if there were ants crawling under her skin.
She could hear the sound of her own heartbeat, rapid and heavy, as if someone was beating a broken drum in her chest.
Get rid of her father.
The moment this thought appeared in her mind, she could almost smell the smell of rust and ashes mixed together. It was the smell of death, and the sound of everything she wanted to be like herself cracking apart.
Redd stood up, straightened the skirt of his robe, and walked towards the door.
His steps were leisurely, and the sound of his boots on the floor was regular and steady, like a signal that something was over.
"You figure it out yourself."
He turned his back to her and put his hand on the doorknob, "You can continue to be your good person, and then watch your father hand over the throne to your brothers, watch your name be erased from the history books, and watch Jaehaerys ask you 'Mother, why are we nothing' when she grows up."
You can also choose to do what you have to do. I'm not here to force you to choose - I'm just here to put the options in front of you."
He opened the door and walked out.
When the door closed behind him, it made a very soft sound, almost melted by the morning light.
Rhaenyra sat in front of the table, motionless. The sunlight poured in from the window and fell on the table in front of her.
The already cool breakfast shone a warm golden color.
Her hand was still on the table, her fingers slightly curled, as if she was silently grasping something invisible.
The cry of seagulls can be heard in the distance, sharp and long, like a knife blade cutting through the sky.
She closed her eyes and tasted the words on her tongue again that made her spine shiver, her stomach tighten, and it was like a big hole was being dug in her chest.
Get rid of him.
Her father. Viserys·Targaryen, the king of Seven Kingdoms, the owner of Iron Throne, the man who would lift her above his head when she was a child and let her ride on his shoulders to watch knights joust.
The one who would sit by her bedside on nights when she had nightmares and hold her hand until she fell asleep again. The one who would place the shape of a crown on top of her head on the day she became crown prince, look into her eyes and say "Are you ready?"
"Get rid of him".
Her hands moved. Slowly, she moved away from the table, landed on her knees, and tightly grasped the crimson skirt fabric.
Her knuckles turned white, and the fabric was twisted into a ball of wrinkles in her palms, like a crushed flower, with petals spilling out from between her fingers, twisting and curling.
She opened her eyes and looked at the empty seat opposite.
The sun fell on that seat, illuminating the crimson cushions.
She stared at the empty seats for a long time, until a seagull landed on the windowsill outside the window, glanced at her with its head tilted, and then flew away with fluttering wings.
She raised her hand, tucked the hair hanging down from her forehead behind her ears, took a deep breath, and then exhaled it slowly.
"Jaehaerys." She whispered the name. Her voice was very soft, with a tremor that she was not even aware of, but she put the name on the tip of her tongue, like holding a warmed stone in her mouth, feeling its shape and weight.
She stood up and walked to the window. King's Landing woke up at her feet. The crowd on the street was getting denser, and the bell of Church could be heard in the distance, once, twice, and three times.
She looked in that direction, at the people who were running for a living and who knew nothing about her destiny, and at the scenery that she had seen since childhood and that she thought would belong to her forever.
She took her hand back from the window sill, clenched it into a fist, and hung it by her side.
Then she turned around and walked toward the door, her pace a little more steady than before.
Her back was straight, her chin was slightly raised, and her expression returned to the dignified, calm, inviolable calm that belonged to His Royal Highness the Crown Prince.
Her boots made a crisp sound on the stone floor, one after another, as if a countdown of time was being stepped on under her feet.
Redd shut the noise and residual warmth behind him into the room.
He took a deep breath of the cool morning air, straightened out his slightly messy clothes, and took a step forward. Just as he was about to look for Alicent, he saw a maid already standing quietly in the shadow of the corridor.
The moment she saw Redd walking out, the maid came forward quietly like a ghost, slightly bent her knees and performed an impeccable court ceremony, and whispered, "The Queen invites you, please come with me."
Redd's footsteps did not pause at all, and there was no look of surprise on his face.
After all, at the seemingly ordinary dinner party last night, the queen's little actions, concealed by toasts and conversations, were already explicit enough.
It's just that he had other plans last night and didn't go to the appointment.
It must be that the aloof queen was waiting in the palace to no avail. She must have been restless and uneasy, so she couldn't wait to arrange for her confidants to "block" him halfway at dawn.
"Lead the way." Redd ordered in a calm tone.
Although he couldn't name the maid, she was no stranger to her.
She often follows Alicent and is a person whom the queen trusts very much, so her words are naturally credible.
What's more, in this Red Keep full of undercurrents and intrigues, Redd has never been afraid of any traps. If it were really a dragon's pond and a tiger's den, he would have the confidence to escape unscathed.
The maid turned around respectfully and led Redd deeper into the corridor.
Along the way, they avoided all areas where servants and nobles might appear, focusing on those dark and mostly deserted remote paths.
As the footsteps continued to deepen, the surrounding light became darker and darker, and the air was filled with a cold atmosphere that had not seen sunlight all year round.
Redd frowned slightly and scanned the mottled stone walls on both sides with his deep gaze.
This road was indeed unusually remote, but he did not rush to stop the other party. He just put his hand casually on the hilt of the sword at his waist and maintained a leisurely pace.
The maid had a keen mind and caught a glimpse of the subtle changes in Redd's expression. For fear of offending this distinguished guest, she quickly lowered her voice and explained, "My lord, we are almost here."
Hearing this, Redd remained silent, just nodded patiently, and followed the other party around a few more deep corners.
When the last section of the narrow corridor came to an end, the view suddenly opened up.
A moist smell mixed with soil and rotten leaves hit his face. Redd raised his head and found that he had arrived at the most secret Godswood in Red Keep.
Huge white tree trunks are like giant pillars, standing silently in the dark forest.
The lush branches and leaves of the tree crown blocked most of the skylight, and only a few thin rays of morning light struggled to penetrate the gaps, casting mottled light and shadow on the ground covered with fallen leaves.
There is an ancient and quiet sense of oppression in the air, as if even time has slowed down here.
Deep in this isolated Godswood, a graceful figure was quietly facing away from him, standing under the Weirwood tree engraved with ancient runes.