"It's not that I didn't give you a chance." Redd's eyes were as cold as ice, without any mercy, "From the first time you flinched because of Viserys's hesitation, from the time you watched Alicent win over the nobles step by step but were indifferent, from the time you let Otto leave King's Landing despite knowing that he was a serious problem...
You are soft-hearted time and time again and are bound by those ridiculous family ties and faces, so don't blame others for treating you like a vase that can be thrown away at will."
He pointed at the door and said in a decisive tone, "Now, go back to your room. Don't make a fool of yourself here, I'm not interested in seeing it."
Rhaenyra froze in place, as if all the strength in his body had been drained.
Redd's words were like hammers, hitting her heart hard, leaving her completely bruised.
She looked at the familiar yet unfamiliar man in front of her and suddenly felt extremely cold.
She didn't know how she left the study, nor how she returned to her bedroom.
The torches in the corridor were clearly extinguished, reflecting her pale face, like a wandering spirit.
My mind was in chaos, all I could think of was Redd's words "let our sons fight for it".
She seems to have seen her own ending - like Rhaenys, being respected as a "princess", being raised in a gorgeous cage, watching others sit on the Iron Throne that should belong to her, and watching her son become the new center of power with the support of Redd.
And she is nothing.
Not willing to give in.
Really unwilling.
But, what can be done?
Redd's words echoed in her ears like a curse, and she even began to doubt whether she was really as weak and incompetent as he said, and was not worthy of inheriting Iron Throne.
Tears flowed down unknowingly and fell hot on the back of her hands, but they could not warm her cold heart at all.
In the study, after Rhaenyra left, Redd walked a few steps in the room irritably. He walked to the window and looked at the darkening sky outside, frowning.
Rhaenyra's failure made him angry, but what made him even more anxious was the situation of King's Landing.
Otto's return is just a signal, there must be a deeper plan behind it.
Viserys's health is getting worse and worse, and his mental state is getting better and worse. No one knows when he will collapse completely.
Once the king dies and there is no clear heir, or the legitimacy of the heir is questioned, Seven Kingdoms will inevitably fall into civil war.
He cannot let this happen. Whether it is Rhaenyra or little Jacaerys, the inheritance rights must be finalized as soon as possible and all obstacles must be cleared with an iron fist.
Rhaenyra is unreliable, so we can only push our son to the top.
This is not betrayal, this is to survive, to save the lives of yourself and your family in this cannibalistic power game.
An unknown fire surged into his heart. Redd felt his throat was tight and needed something to vent. He walked to the door and shouted to the outside, "Mesalia."
Soon, a woman wearing a light green dress walked in.
She has a graceful figure, healthy honey-colored skin, and a pair of big eyes with a bit of vigilance and obedience.
She is the maid of Redd and Master of Whisperers. She is smart, knowledgeable and knows how to please men.
Mesalia vaguely heard the quarrel outside the door. Although she didn't know the specific content, she could guess that the atmosphere was not right.
She cautiously walked up to Redd, and was just about to whisper, "What are your orders, sir?" when Redd grabbed her wrist violently.
He was very strong, with suppressed anger in his eyes. Before Mesalia could react, Redd pushed her under the desk.
"Do what you have to do." His voice was low, with an unquestionable command.
Mesalia was startled and subconsciously wanted to speak, but was blocked by the sudden movement.
She could feel the irritability and anger in Redd, and knew that she could not disobey him at this moment.
So, she closed her eyes, temporarily put all the intrigues and quarrels behind her, and concentrated on dealing with the matter in front of her.
The air in the study became thicker, mixed with the smell of ink and an ambiguous breathing sound.
The sky outside the window was completely dark, only the candle on the desk was still burning, and the dancing flames reflected on the cold maps on the wall, as if silently mocking everyone in this power game.
Redd closed his eyes, trying to find some peace from this short-term indulgence, but his mind was still thinking about every detail of tomorrow's Imperial Council.
He knew that starting from tomorrow, the King's Landing storm would become even more violent.
Red Keep's meeting hall has never been so quiet as it is now.
Under the stone dome, the candlelight danced on the bronze lamp holder, stretching the shadows of everyone and casting them on the cold stone wall, like silent ghosts.
There is still a quarter of an hour before Small Council's usual meeting time, but the hall is already packed. Even the air seems to be solidified by invisible pressure, and every breath carries a heavy weight.
Hand of the King Lyonel·Strong Earl is sitting on the left hand side of the front seat.
He was as tall as a wall, his bald head glistened under the candlelight, and his thick gray beard under his chin was neatly trimmed.
If you just look at this appearance, anyone would think that he is Warrior who fights on the battlefield all year round, rather than Hand of the King who is strategizing.
But only a few people know that the helmsman of House Strong is not only superb in swordsmanship, but also knowledgeable in history and strategy. His wisdom in handling the affairs of the kingdom is no less than that of those brilliant bachelors.
But today, Lyonel's brows were knitted into a knot, and his usually gentle eyes were now as sharp as a knife, sweeping over everyone present, and finally landed on the oak table in front of him.
There were several files spread out on the table, but none of them allowed him to calm down and read through them.
His fingers tapped on the table unconsciously, making a soft "click, click" sound, which was particularly clear in this excessively quiet meeting hall.
He received the news last night - Otto·Hai Tarth was back, and His Majesty the King summoned him privately.
This news was like a huge stone thrown into his already restless heart.
As the current Hand of the King, Lyonel is very aware of how delicate his position is.
Viserys The king did not completely trust him, but relied more on him in a "transitional" manner; and the two factions among the nobles due to the issue of heirs made him walk on thin ice.
"The consequences of standing on the wrong team..." Lyonel recited this sentence silently in his heart, and his Adam's apple rolled unconsciously.
He has seen too many families destroyed due to power struggles. Lannister's lion's claw, sea Tarth's rose, and even Targaryen's Dragonfire, once out of control, they will become beasts that devour everything.
He even misses the days when Otto was in power now - at least then, everyone knew who the opponent was, instead of like now, even the king couldn't guess what he was thinking.