Six days had crawled by since King Byron had fallen into a deep and unresponsive slumber, leaving the court of Nye steeped in palpable unrest. The once vibrant and bustling halls now echoed with anxious whispers and the shuffling feet of the uneasy.
The weight of an uncertain future pressed heavily upon everyone, from the lowliest servant to the most powerful noble.
The Queen Consort, Ratih, thrust unexpectedly into the role of his regent, felt the weight of a thousand burdens settle upon her shoulders. Her ascension, sudden and unforeseen, raised eyebrows and sparked murmurs of dissent throughout the realm.
As she took her place upon the throne, her heart was heavy with the responsibility now resting upon her and the gnawing fear that her husband might never awaken.
This crisis precipitated a cascade of uncertainty, compelling Theodore to convene the council in Byron's absence.
"It has been six days since the King fell into this deep slumber." Lord Darien, the master of strategy, began, his gaze sweeping the assembled council. "I trust we are all aware of the gravity of our situation." His words, tinged with evident concern and fear, echoed through the chamber.
"The maesters are doing all they can to awaken him. Let us not jump to conclusions just yet." Ratih's voice cut through the tension, resolute and commanding, though her heart was heavy with worry for her husband.
"The King was the linchpin holding the realms together, and with his fate uncertain, I fear we must consider the possibility of war." Ser Gavin, the council of war spoke cautiously, choosing his words with care.
Ratih's gaze shifted to Theodore, who took a deep breath before interjecting. "Preparing for war is prudent, but we must first address the more immediate concern—Her Grace." he urged.
The room fell into a tense silence, each member acutely aware that their next words could provoke the ire of the Queen.
"Her image is what truly troubles the realms, not the King's condition." Theodore pressed, his voice carrying the weight of unspoken fears. "There is widespread fear that she might have... cursed him." His words hung heavy in the air, as he sensed the reluctance of others to voice what had been on everyone's mind.
Despite their oaths of loyalty to the crown, the council members remained wary of Ratih's rumored sorcery and the shadow it cast over her reign. The realm suspicions ran deep, perceiving the situation as an opportunistic twist of fate that appeared too conveniently timed.
"Indeed." Gust, newly appointed as the Master of Coin in place of his cousin, interjected. "We must shift our focus to purging her image of the shadows that cloud it."
Despite the lingering wariness and open disdain, both had come to acknowledge Ratih as a member of the Beresford family. They had sworn their loyalty to her, even if their personal feelings remained unyieldingly conflicted.
"Of course. We must start with the courtiers, they are often the source of these whispers." Lady Elara, the royal diplomat, responded, keenly aware of the reluctance to address the rumors that held more than a grain of truth. "If it pleases Her Grace, I suggest an afternoon tea with them to build trust and dispel the gossip."
The suggestion, reminiscent of Byron's own approach, brought a flicker of sadness to Ratih's eyes—a moment of vulnerability that Theodore noticed. Stepping in to shield her, he spoke on her behalf. "That is an excellent proposal, Lady Elara. However, Her Grace prefers to remain by her husband's side during this time." Ratih gave Theodore a grateful nod for his defense.
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BLOODLINE
FantasiIn the kingdom of Nye, Prince Byron Albright-Beresford's life was forever altered when assassins struck, killing his family and leaving him to ascend the throne. The weight of the crown once meant for his elder brother, now rested on his shoulders...
