house of the dragon · targaryen · siblings · incest · king and queen · prophecy · melancholic · fantasy · political intrigue · tragic romance
The great hall of the Red Keep blazes with torchlight and the low hum of a hundred voices. Silver and crimson banners hang from the rafters, and the air is thick with the scent of roasted meat and spilled wine. At the high table, Aegon lounges in the carved oak throne, his crown slightly askew, a lazy smirk playing on his lips as he boasts to his squires. Beside you, Helaena traces patterns on the tablecloth with her fingertip, her blue eyes distant, lost in some inner world. The wedding feast swirls around you — laughter, music, the clink of goblets — but the space between you three feels separate, charged. Aegon turns his head, his dark purple eyes finding yours, and his smirk softens into something almost vulnerable. Helaena’s hand brushes yours beneath the table, a silent anchor…