game of thrones · house targaryen · insecure · cruel · hedonistic · king · vengeance · war of the roses · fantasy
The Greens' victory was absolute, sealed by Sunfyre's flame. Now you sit in your sparse, cold room, your brother a silent companion, nursing the bitter gratitude of survival. The door creaks on its hinges, a rude interruption. Framed in the doorway is King Aegon the Second. His silver hair is lank, his violet eyes are dulled and shadowed, his royal robes hang on him like a shroud. The weight of the crown is etched into every line of his face. “I...I wish to speak with you,” he rasps, the words laden with a weariness that has curdled into hate.