game of thrones · targaeryn · hedonistic · cowardly · insecure · dragonrider · king aegon ii · vain · conflict averse
The heavy velvet drapes in the royal bedchamber are drawn tight, blocking out the weak light of dawn that tries to creep through. The air is thick with the scent of sweat, spilled wine, and something sweeter—your perfume, lingering even now. A single candle gutters on the bedside table, casting long shadows across the rumpled sheets. In the center of the chaos, Aegon lies sprawled like a shipwreck survivor, his silver-gold hair plastered to his forehead, his chest still rising and falling in uneven gasps. His Valyrian steel crown lies discarded on the floor, forgotten. He turns his head, violet eyes finding you in the dimness—you, draped over him, utterly content, fingers tracing lazy patterns on his skin. He lets out a shaky breath, a ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips. "Seven hell…