He didn't ask her if she was tired from flying, or if she was hungry, or if she got cold on the dragon's back.
Those questions that he would definitely ask before, those questions that a father should ask his daughter in his heart, all disappeared at this moment, as if something had been erased from his memory, without leaving even a trace.
What he asked her was, "What do you say Redd?"
Rhaenyra stood at the end of the bed, looking at Viserys's face that was occupied by eagerness and desire, and a huge sense of absurdity suddenly surged in his heart.
She flew all night, crossed Narrow Sea, froze in the icy night wind for nearly seven or eight hours, rode a dragon through the clouds and stars, just for one thing - to tell her father the news.
She thought he would ask her if she was tired, maybe ask Alicent to pour her a glass of hot wine, and maybe ask the maester to prescribe her some cold medicine.
She thought she would be held in his arms like she was when she was a child, listening to him praise her for being "so capable", and then place a gentle, stubbled kiss on her forehead.
What she saw was a pair of eyes that only cared about the news and didn't care about her daughter.
She suddenly didn't know what to say. The draft of the report that had reached her lips, that she had practiced over and over again, and that every word had been carefully considered, became extremely unfamiliar in front of Viserys's eager eyes.
She couldn't even remember those words - "Redd agrees", "Until Driftmark", "Won't go beyond Blackwater Bay" - those words were spinning in her brain like a group of headless flies, unable to find an exit.
Viserys Seeing that she was silent, the eagerness on his face became a little more intense, and he leaned forward again. This time he did not try to sit up, but supported the edge of the bed with both hands, lying on the quilt, looking up at her, like a prisoner waiting for sentencing.
His lips were trembling slightly, his fingers were clenched on the sheets, his breathing was rapid and disordered, and his chest was heaving violently.
"He agreed?" Viserys's voice contained a hint of humility and almost pleading that he may not have even realized. "What did he say? He - he agreed?"
Alicent stood on the other side of the bed, quietly, like a statue placed in the corner. There was not much expression on her face, and there was a faint light like a candle in her blue eyes. Her eyes moved back and forth between Viserys and Rhaenyra, observing quietly, recording quietly, and waiting quietly.
Rhaenyra's eyes stayed on Alicent's face for a moment, and then moved away.
She said what Viserys wanted to hear.
"Redd agrees." Her voice was so calm that even she felt unfamiliar, like a puppet talking, with her mouth open, her vocal cords vibrating, and the air flowing from her lungs through her throat and out of her mouth, forming syllables one after another, connected into words, and words connected into sentences.
Every word was spoken accurately, every pause was just right, and every tone was maintained within the most appropriate range.
"The king of the Narrow Sea. The army will not cross Driftmark. It will not set foot on the territory of Seven Kingdoms. It will not appear in Blackwater Bay."
The moment Viserys heard these words, his body seemed to have been drained of all its strength by something.
His body, which he had just forced to sit up, slowly lay back on the bed inch by inch. His head rested on the pillow, his eyes narrowed slightly, his breathing became even and slow, and his whole body relaxed from the state where he was stretched to the limit and could break at any time.
It was as loose as an old rag that had been wrung out and thrown aside.
He didn't say "Thank you", he didn't say "Thank you for your hard work", and he didn't say "Rhaenyra, you did a good job".
He just lay there with his eyes half-closed and his lips slightly open. His whole body was immersed in a huge sense of relief, and he lost consciousness of everything in the outside world, including her, his daughter, the woman who flew all night for him and who was standing at the end of the bed with her boots still stained with Dragonstone volcanic ash.
Alicent walked over, moving very lightly and slowly, like a cat walking on the snow, making no sound with every step.
She held Viserys's shoulders, slowly laid his body flat, then pulled up the quilt and covered it to his chin.
Her fingers stayed on Viserys's forehead for a moment, feeling his body temperature, and then took them back.
The whole process was smooth and smooth, and every movement was just right - not too hard, so it wouldn't hurt the patient; not too light, so it wouldn't make people feel perfunctory.
Her expression is gentle, focused, and with just the right amount of concern, like a carefully drawn portrait of Mother. Every brushstroke has been carefully considered, and every paint has been carefully blended, resulting in a perfect painting that cannot be faulted.
Rhaenyra watched Alicent cover Viserys with quilt, wipe her forehead, and tuck the corners of the quilt - she watched every move she made, and they were all beautiful, gentle, considerate, and in place.
Too good to be true. So good that it doesn't look like something a person is doing, but like a painting, a play, a well-designed stage performance that has been rehearsed countless times.
There are no perfect people or perfect actions in this world.
If a person can even do such a small thing as covering her husband impeccably, it can only mean one thing - she is not doing it, but acting as "the person who does it".
Every move she makes is calculated, every expression is designed, and every word is carefully considered.
She is not living, she is performing life. And her performance is so good that the audience forgets that this is just a show.
Rhaenyra looked away.
"Father." Her voice came from the end of the bed, calm, dignified, and without any emotion, "If there is nothing else, I will go back and rest first."
Viserys's eyes opened slightly, and his gaze stayed on Rhaenyra's face for a moment, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end he just nodded slightly, and then closed his eyes again.
His lips moved and he uttered a vague syllable that sounded like "go" or "um", and then there was no response.
Rhaenyra stood there and waited for one breath, two breaths, and three breaths.
What was she waiting for? Maybe she was waiting for him to say one more word, even if it was just a "be careful on the road", even if it was just a look of "Thank you for your hard work".
But there was nothing. When the door closed behind her, she felt that she was not walking out of a room, but withdrawing from a world that no longer belonged to her.