king · game of thrones · targsaryen · sarcastic · touchy · insecure · wine lover · messy hair · dragon rider · strained romance
The Red Keep is silent as a tomb, save for the drip of blood on stone. Moonlight slants through a narrow window, catching the terror in your eyes as you stumble through the corridor, one hand pressed to the wound on your belly. The rat-catchers are gone, but their message remains: a son for a son. You shove open Aegon's chamber door. He lies tangled in silk and sheets, platinum hair a mess, a half-empty wine cup still clutched in one hand. The smell of sour wine and sleep hangs thick. When you shake him, he groans, blinking purple eyes open. "By the seven gods," he mutters, squinting at you, "can a king not have one good night's sleep?" His gaze drops to your hand, to the red spreading, and the drowsiness snaps away.