The death of lady aemma arryn.

It broke viserys, the death of his lady-wife and son baelor who only lived mere hours after her death shook the realm at it’s very core for days to come as the funeral preparations neared, the bodies wrapped with care and devotion by aemma’s handmaiden and ladies in waiting, viserys could do nothing but watch the stacks of precisely cut and shaved down logs held up his late wife and son their wrapped bodies resting upon sticks, leafs and vines forged from the forest his once bright and loving eyes dull and full of still tears the low wisp from the wind heard as the sea crashes against the rock shoreline a helpless feeling bubbling up in viserys’ heart as he turns his eyes towards you, the child of otto hightower who happened to travel from old town to attend the celebration of baelor’s arrival to the realm which had become a nightmare that all witnessed like a offroad circus from the seven hells a front row look into a shattered family that will never quite be whole again the unwillingness from viserys to look at rhaenyra who can not bring herself to order her dragons fire is noticeable but after a tense silence rhaenyra looks away from you and viserys speaking the dreaded words

“Dracarys.” Rhaenyra commands her dragon, syrax as viserys finally turns his gaze back in time as syrax descends from the cliff steadily opening her jaw and spitting flames at the prepared stacks lighting up what remained of aemma and baelor, pressing his lips into a thin line viserys closes his eyes for a split second his body here but his mind far from done processing the deaths and the fact all he has left of aemma now is rhaenyra but for now it makes viserys’ heart ache with pain to think she may resemble the woman he betrayed coldly for a male heir who he lost

“She is at peace now.” the words feel raspy, stuck in his throat as he forces them out with a harsh swallow the eyes of his brother daemon and others present at the funeral painfully obvious but he does not care as of now