[ Even as she stands here now, Rhaenyra can consider a piece of the unspoken truth that lies between them — her memories of their father are of a distinctly different man, the king Viserys was when he was with his first wife, rather than his second. The king Viserys had been when he'd still yet hoped that Aemma would give him a son and expected heir. He had not been a terrible father then, but neither had he been a father who had entirely acknowledged her worth until he had been confronted with the truth: that she would be his only legitimate heir, at least until the possibility of other sons presented itself.
She also firmly believes that a part of her father had died the day her mother had, never to be recovered — not even by his Hand, who had sent his own daughter to the king with the intention of securing an enduring place for his House at the right hand of the Iron Throne. Could there have been any hope, beyond that marriage, that Viserys would have any deeper affection left to spare — not only for Alicent, who had dutifully borne him more heirs, and those children in turn, but also for Rhaenyra herself, a lasting reminder of the love he had lost?
She had seen her father at the end, and the effects of the infection that had ultimately claimed him, spreading too deep throughout his body for any of the maesters to successfully heal, but she had also been far removed to Dragonstone for many of those final years, rather than at King's Landing, as Aemond had. ]
I think... he would prefer to be thought of as such. [ Handsome, and young, though had Viserys ever been a man in his prime, or always much older than his years would indicate? Rhaenyra draws in a quiet breath, posture straightening as she remembers herself. ]
too late!
She also firmly believes that a part of her father had died the day her mother had, never to be recovered — not even by his Hand, who had sent his own daughter to the king with the intention of securing an enduring place for his House at the right hand of the Iron Throne. Could there have been any hope, beyond that marriage, that Viserys would have any deeper affection left to spare — not only for Alicent, who had dutifully borne him more heirs, and those children in turn, but also for Rhaenyra herself, a lasting reminder of the love he had lost?
She had seen her father at the end, and the effects of the infection that had ultimately claimed him, spreading too deep throughout his body for any of the maesters to successfully heal, but she had also been far removed to Dragonstone for many of those final years, rather than at King's Landing, as Aemond had. ]
I think... he would prefer to be thought of as such. [ Handsome, and young, though had Viserys ever been a man in his prime, or always much older than his years would indicate? Rhaenyra draws in a quiet breath, posture straightening as she remembers herself. ]
But the dead have no say in how we remember them.