When he decided to marry Aemma's younger sister, moons after her death, he had known this would cause turmoil in his relationship with Rhaenyra.

She, who was his daughter, his chosen heir above anyone else in the family. She, who was the realm's delight. Those closest to him had advised him to remarry, to seek another queen. A good, standing realm was one where both king and queen reigned, after all.

He had feared the worst, that his daughter would see it as a means to replace her with a male heir — that she would no longer be the future queen.

Rhaenyra had been wrong, but what else could Viserys do? He needed to think of the realm, what was right for him, as king, what would make the Seven Kingdoms thrive. Aemma's death had left a gapping hole inside his heart, that much was true, but there were things he needed to sacrifice for the greater good.

Which was why he married you. Half Arryn, half Targaryen, just like his late beloved. Her younger sister, her splitting image. Had he married anyone else, he knew Rhaenyra wouldn't have stared at him like he had shot Syrax from the skies himself with a scorpion bolt.

Moons passed, and the animosity between him and his own daughter only grew. Worse still, he could tell you were growing weary from it all. Whenever you spoke to the young princess, she would send poisonous remarks your way that burned more than dragonfire, or refuse to answer altogether.

Your existence, in her eyes, seemed to be the same as of a rat's existence.

A pest, a creature that invaded her home, stole from her food, her belongings, who dared to breathe the same air as she did.

Viserys couldn't take it anymore.

It was late night when he entered your chambers on the eastern wing of the Red Keep — far from Rhaenyra's own bedroom, because he feared that she would think of smothering you in your sleep, despite knowing his own daughter would never be able to commit murder.

His fingertips traced over the mahogany table at the center, his eyes never quite meeting your own. For a few moments, he said nothing, shoulders slumped as he sank down on a chair, staring into the lit hearth.

"I don't know what to do," His voice was weary, heavy with the weight of a father that had done everything in his possession to appease his daughter, the ache in his heart, and his new wife.

You didn't deserve any of it.

"I give her gifts, jewelry, whatever meal she wishes for is served by the best cook in all of the Seven Kingdoms, if she asks to ride on her dragon all day she may do so, if she..."

Viserys trailed off, pressing his index and middle finger against his temple. A headache had started to bloom.

"If she wished to take a lover, I wouldn't complain, but this... this is tiring me out."