Game Of Thrones: I Became a Crown Prince For a Day

"You don't have to apologize; every Targaryen is obsessed with dragons, and it's not uncommon for them to make rash decisions on impulse," Erryk consoled, casting a sympathetic glance at Rhaegar, who lay on the bed enduring the pain.

At the mention of dragons, Rhaegar's eyes flared with anger. Gritting his teeth, he declared, "I was on the brink of taming Dreamfyre."

"An accident?" Erryk inquired, his brow furrowing with concern.

Rhaegar's voice dripped with frustration as he recounted, "Dreamfyre was on the verge of accepting me, but a chain restrained it, preventing it from standing."

"The bond between me and Dreamfyre was severed by that chain!" he hissed, his tone laced with venom.

His eyes burned with a fiery intensity, the crimson hue mingling with the purple of his pupils, lending them a demonic quality.

Failure was one thing, but thwarted success was far worse.

Erryk was taken aback by Rhaegar's revelation. He turned to Maynard with a fierce grip, his voice laced with accusation, "You oversee the Dragon's Pit; what happened with the chains?"

Though he had limited experience with dragons, Erryk knew well enough that the chains should never impede their movement. Rhaegar's account of Dreamfyre's plight was highly irregular.

Erryk harbored suspicions that Maynard might have played a hand in sabotaging the prince's endeavor.

Gripped by the collar and hoisted up, Maynard trembled with fear, his voice betraying panic as he protested, "It wasn't me! I'm tasked with menial chores—cleaning bones and dragon droppings. I'd never dare tamper with a dragon!"

"If not you, then who, the Dragon? Or perhaps the Bass you're talking about?" Erryk demanded, his patience wearing thin. With a swift motion, he landed two punches on Maynard's face, eliciting a sharp cry as blood trickled from his nose.

Maynard frantically pleaded his innocence amidst the chaos. "It's not me, I swear! Only the Dragon Keepers can change the dragon's chains. They're the only ones who can pacify the dragons!" he insisted, his voice reaching a crescendo in his desperation.

Rhaegar winced in annoyance, his burns throbbing with each word. "Tie him up first, and let's return to the Red Keep immediately. We must inform my father of this," he commanded, his voice strained with discomfort.

The pain clouded his thoughts, leaving only two clear objectives in his mind: to seek solace in the comforting presence of his parents and to uncover the culprit responsible for Dreamfyre's ordeal.

Erryk nodded in agreement. "Yes, Prince," he affirmed, swiftly immobilizing Maynard by restraining his hands behind his back with a belt.

With Maynard subdued, Erryk gently lifted Rhaegar and carried him out of the room. The carriage awaited them just beyond the gates of the Dragon's Pit, and Erryk wasted no time in setting a brisk pace towards the Red Keep.

Disregarding the driver's astonished expression, Erryk carefully positioned Rhaegar on the carriage's commodious seat.

With practiced efficiency, he directed the driver's attention to Maynard. "Secure him to the back of the carriage and ensure he follows us," he instructed firmly, adding a reminder, "The prince's condition requires a smooth ride. Speed is essential, but we cannot afford any jolts."

"Understood, Ser," the driver acknowledged, his eyes wide with curiosity at the unusual scene unfolding before him.

Without delay, the driver complied with Erryk's orders, binding Maynard securely to the rear of the carriage and muffling any potential protests with a rag.

With their task accomplished, the carriage set off towards the Red Keep, its wheels rolling smoothly along the cobblestone streets of King's Landing.

...

In the tranquil ambiance of the Red Keep's King's Bedchamber, Viserys, wearied from the morning's tournament, retreated to his quarters, feeling the weight of exhaustion settling upon him.

"Summon Lord Lyonel at once. Inform him that the King requires his counsel," Viserys commanded, his voice echoing with authority as he leaned against the door frame.

Promptly, an attendant heeded the king's call, disappearing momentarily to fetch the esteemed Hand of the King, Lyonel Strong.

Within the span of ten minutes, Lyonel's stout figure entered the chamber, his demeanor exuding deference and readiness to serve his sovereign.

"What is your will, Your Majesty?" Lyonel inquired respectfully, his presence a reassuring presence in the dimly lit chamber.

As the attendant discreetly poured wine for both Viserys and Lyonel, Viserys dismissed him with a subtle gesture, leaving the two men alone to deliberate in privacy.

With a contemplative gaze, Viserys raised his wine glass, a solemn air enveloping him as he broached the topic weighing heavily on his mind.

"I have been inundated with suitors vying for my daughter Rhaenyra's hand in marriage," Viserys confided, his voice tinged with a hint of melancholy. "Yet, I find myself hesitant to commit to any alliance."

Lyonel's expression shifted, a somber recognition crossing his features as he interjected with a note of caution. "Your Majesty, while the matter of Rhaenyra's betrothal is of great importance, there are pressing matters that demand our attention."

Viserys regarded Lyonel with a measured gaze, acknowledging the gravity of his advisor's words.

"Oh, is there something more pressing than Rhaenyra's marriage?" Viserys inquired, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes.

Despite the lighthearted tone, Lyonel's gaze remained fixed on the king, revealing a depth of understanding that belied his outward demeanor. Years of experience had shaped him into a man of few words, yet his perceptive eyes betrayed a keen insight into human nature.

Aware of Viserys's tendency to deflect difficult topics with humor, Lyonel met the challenge head-on. With a decisive gulp of his wine, he broached the sensitive subject.

"Your Majesty, Prince Rhaegar, as your eldest son, rightfully holds claim to the Iron Throne under Westerosi primogeniture," Lyonel asserted, his words carrying the weight of certainty.

Viserys's countenance darkened at Lyonel's assertion. "But the current heir is Rhaenyra, chosen by me personally and older than Rhaegar."

Lyonel remained steadfast in his stance. "Prince Rhaegar, as a man and the eldest son, holds precedence under Westerosi law. A male heir is more likely to command the allegiance of the lords."

"Rhaenyra has indeed been recognized as the heir for many years," Viserys conceded, his tone still edged with frustration.

Though Lyonel recognized Viserys's similarity to Rhaenyra in their strong-willed nature, he pressed on. "Yet, Your Majesty, their recognition of Rhaenyra may stem from the absence of a better alternative. If Prince Rhaegar were to assume his rightful place, the lords would undoubtedly favor a male heir."

Through years of companionship, Lyonel had gained an intimate understanding of Viserys's character. He knew precisely how to navigate the king's emotions and convictions to sway him in the desired direction.

Viserys remained resolute, unwilling to entertain the notion of displacing Rhaenyra as the heir. "No. Rhaenyra has committed no wrongdoing. No one can strip her of her rightful place as the heir."

Lyonel, recognizing Viserys's unwavering stance, didn't press the issue further. Instead, he calmly redirected the conversation. "Prince Rhaegar was born into her position as heir. Now that he has recovered from his illness, are you suggesting we overlook such a worthy firstborn?"

"Absolutely not," Viserys asserted firmly, expressing his intentions. "Rhaegar is a fine young man; he holds love for both his father and his sister. I will ensure he receives the finest education, so he may grow into a man of honor."

"When Rhaenyra ascends to the throne, Rhaegar can serve as Hand of the King, Regent, or even Protector of the Realm," Viserys proposed.

Lyonel was taken aback by the suggestion. "My liege, do you truly believe this?"

But Lyonel's inner thoughts were far more complex, swirling with uncertainty and concern.

With the king asserting Rhaegar's status as his eldest son, one might argue that he should rightfully inherit the throne. After all, wouldn't a prince of such high caliber be more inclined to assert his claim rather than serve silently in a subordinate role?

Indeed, even among minor noble families, brothers often vie fiercely for their family's inheritance. The allure of wielding the power of a king would be irresistible to many, let alone to siblings.

Yet, Viserys remained steadfast in his decision. "I have faith in Rhaegar. He will dutifully assist his sister in governing and safeguarding the realm from threats," he declared.

Lyonel found himself at a loss for words, uncertain how to respond to the king's unwavering conviction. Pouring himself another glass of wine, he took a sip, contemplating his next move.

"Well, Your Majesty, I defer to your judgment," Lyonel conceded, acknowledging the king's authority in the matter.

(Word count: 1428)