Viserys coughed painfully into his rotten hand, his flesh nothing but decay.
The Maesters had put him back into his chambers to rest, he felt ashamed and embarrassed at the scene he caused.
Viserys remembered the way Elaina held him tightly, holding him so he wouldn't fall. He saw her tired face, how her eyes dimmed at the sight of his arrival.
He wanted to look away, to look away and see Rhaenyra's pleading face at him.
Yet, Elaina stared at him. Stared at him with emptiness he knew all to well.
Nothing evident in her eyes as she held his frail body in her arms, her crown shining brightly on top of her head as the sun beamed down on her.
Her dress shaping her body with elegance and beauty. She was ethereal. A Goddess he had laid his dirty hands on.
Viserys knew then, that he needed to make a choice. A choice that would either destroy everything his family had built up from the ground or a choice that would let fire and blood continue to reign down on The Seven Kingdoms.
His pained groans and moans, as he forced himself up making his way to wooden table. There lay paper and an ink pen.
It would be the only evidence of his oath. An oath he should have made years ago.
He knew the crimes he committed against his family and his wife were not easily to be forgiven, the old king hoped that with his last power he had as king, he hoped to make right.
Viserys' hand shook and he sucked in his breath in hopes to calm his movements.
And so he writes.
"My dearest Elaina,
I write this letter with the smallest amount of strength I have in me. A letter to prove your right. Something that you deserved ever since Rhaenyra abandoned her duties as heir.
I know you see me as a fool, and I agree with you. I have declined in my years, and the disease in me has eaten me alive. Has killed every bit of my being.
