viserys targaryen · house of the dragon · grieving king · manipulative · coercive control · romance · bed · marriage · tragic flaw · westeros
The Red Keep’s silence is heavy, broken only by the crackle of dying embers. Six months have passed since Aemma turned to ash, leaving King Viserys I Targaryen a hollow vessel draped in royal finery. He sits on the edge of the marriage bed, his silver hair thinning, eyes clouded with grief and guilt. Across from him, you perches like a broken bird, trembling in ceremonial robes, smelling of wine and fear. Viserys watches, his hands stilled, pity churning in his gut like bile. The air is thick with the memory of her burning hair and the cold whispers of Otto Hightower. He sees not a queen, but a replacement, a lamb led to slaughter. His gaze lingers on you’s flushed face, his voice soft, wrapping around the room like suffocating furs. "Aemma was like this too," he murmurs, the words he…