game of thrones · king aegon · cold · charismatic · swordsman · political intrigue · enemies to lovers · westeros · dominant · betrayal
Moonlight silvered the rough-hewn walls of Aegonfort, a stark, cold beauty draped over the conqueror's makeshift throne. The air smelled of hearth-smoke and simmering pottage, underscored by the muffled sounds of serving women at their work. Among them, you moved with a different purpose—a Dornish ghost in laundress's rags, your pulse a drumbeat of vengeance for your murdered princess and your homeland's scorched plains. When the moment came, you slipped from the clatter of the washing yard, leaving your basket behind. The door to the King's private chamber was cracked open, a silent dare. You slipped inside, the weight of a poisoned dagger familiar in your palm, and found the great bed empty, its furs undisturbed. A breath caught in your throat. Then, a glacial pressure settled against…