"As King Seven Kingdoms, I give your husband Redd the title of King Narrow Sea."
Viserys said again, this time with a hint of cautious probing in his tone, as if he was observing Rhaenyra's reaction, "What do you think?"
He looked at her with an expression on his face that Rhaenyra had never seen before - it was an expression of inquiry and respect, as if seeking her opinion.
It's not an order, it's not a notification, it's not a condescending attitude like "I've decided, you just need to accept it."
It is a genuine, heartfelt inquiry with a hint of even humility.
Rhaenyra suddenly felt very uncomfortable.
In her memory, Viserys had never spoken to her with such an attitude.
He is a king, and a king does not need to ask for the opinions of others; he is a father, and a father does not need to ask for the opinions of his daughter.
He is always making decisions, always giving orders, always telling others "what to do."
His tone is always certain and unquestionable, with a kind of confidence that "I know what is right."
Even if those decisions are wrong, even if those orders are absurd, even if that confidence is blind, he will not show any hesitation.
But at this moment, he was hesitating. He was asking. There was an almost pleading expression on his face, as if he was saying, "Please, don't refuse me."
Rhaenyra felt a feeling of discomfort in his stomach.
It was not a physical discomfort, but something deeper and more essential that made her feel disgusted and nauseated.
She realized that this was not a father talking to his daughter, but a king negotiating with another king's wife.
Viserys's words are full of hints, temptations and exchanges of interests - what did he give Redd the title "King of the Narrow Sea" in exchange for?
In exchange for Redd not to cross the sea? In exchange for Redd not to have the idea of Iron Throne? In exchange for Redd to keep his peace on Essos, and let him linger on Westeros?
This is a kind of transaction. A naked political transaction without any warmth or affection at all, full of calculations and interest considerations.
And the reason why Viserys spoke in that inquiring, respectful tone, as if seeking her opinion, was not because he regarded her as his daughter, but because he regarded her as a channel to Redd, a microphone, and a chess piece that could be used to convey information.
She was extremely disgusted with this feeling. Her blood was slightly hot in her veins, her fingers clenched and unclenched on her knees, and her breathing became faster than usual.
But she didn't show it. Her face still maintained that calm, dignified expression, as if she was listening to a story that had nothing to do with her.
Because she has been taught since she was a child that a princess cannot lose her composure in front of anyone.
The princess can cry in her room, scream in her bed, and beat the pillow against the wall until the feathers fly in the dead of night.
But not in front of others, not in front of anyone, not even in front of my father.
You cannot cry, laugh, be angry, fear, or show any expression that may be interpreted by others as "weak" or "out of control."
So she just nodded slightly and said in a calm tone without any emotion, "I will inform Redd of father's decision."
An expression of relaxation appeared on Viserys's face.
His body sank slightly into the quilt, as if a heavy burden had been lifted, and his breathing became more even.
He stretched out his hand and wanted to hold Rhaenyra's hand, but Rhaenyra's hand was placed on his knee and did not reach out.
His fingers paused in the air for a moment, then slowly retracted them and placed them on his chest.
"Thank you, Rhaenyra." His voice was very soft, so soft that it was almost drowned out by the crackle of the candlelight, "Thank you for everything you have done for Seven Kingdoms."
Rhaenyra stood up, walked to the window, and opened the closed window.
The sea breeze rushed in from outside, bringing with it the salty smell and the warmth of the distant fishing fire, which dispersed some of the turbid smell from the burning incense, herbs, and candles in the room.
She stood in front of the window, looking at the sparkling Blackwater Bay illuminated by the moonlight in the distance, at the scattered fishing fires on the sea, and at the invisible but existing Dragonstone belonging to Redd in the darkness further away.
"Your Majesty." Her voice came from the window, as calm as a machine without emotions, "If there is nothing else, I will go back first. You have a good rest."
Viserys opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but in the end he just nodded.
He looked at her leaving back - that dignified, upright, sword-like back.
He suddenly remembered that when Rhaenyra was a child, every time he held him in his arms, he would grab his beard with his little hands and giggle.
She was not like this at that time. At that time, she would cry and laugh, and would lie on the ground and refuse to get up after falling, waiting for him to hug her.
At that time, she had not yet learned to be "dignified".
The door is closed.
Only Viserys is left in the bedroom.
He was lying on the large oak bed, his body sunk into the thick velvet quilt, his eyes fell on the Aegon the Conqueror tapestry, and on the woven, angular face full of power and majesty.
He stared at that face for a long time, until one candle burned out and another was replaced.
Then he closed his eyes and made a low sound, like a sigh or a moan.
"Aegon," his voice was so soft as if he was afraid of being heard by someone, "Did I-did I do something wrong?"
No one answered him. Aegon the Conqueror on the tapestry still maintained the posture of holding a sword and looking into the distance. The golden silk thread shone faintly in the candlelight, like dragon scales.
In the corridor, Rhaenyra's footsteps echoed on the empty stone floor.
Her steps were neither fast nor slow, and each step was taken with extreme precision, as if she was measuring the length of the corridor.
There was no expression on her face, but in her heart - a huge, tsunami-like wave was surging in her heart.
She thought of Daemon. She recalled the scene when he took her to ride a dragon and fly over King's Landing when she was a child.
I remembered his laughter at that time - a laughter that echoed in the sky, like a dragon's roar.
She remembered his embrace at that time - it was strong, warm, and made her feel like the safest place in the world.
Then she thought of the coffin again. The black coffin with copper rims was carried into the hall by four strong men.
She didn't see the contents of the coffin with her own eyes, but she heard about it - the mummy, the severed arm, the severed tongue, the sunken eye sockets, the mouth that couldn't be closed.