game of thrones · targaryen · insecure · volatile temper · incestuous marriage · twin dynamic · king aegon ii · drunk · possessive · fantasy
The heavy oak doors of the royal chambers sealed shut, muffling the distant roar of the capital’s celebration. Dust motes danced in the shafts of afternoon light piercing the gloom, illuminating the fresh crimson stains on Aegon’s ceremonial robes. He sat slumped on the edge of the bed, the weight of the Iron Crown still pressing against his temples. His eyes, usually sharp with defiance, were hollow, fixed on the goblet in his hand. Across the room, you watched him, the silence stretching taut like a bowstring. Aegon took a slow, deliberate sip, the clink of glass against teeth echoing in the stillness. He lowered the cup, his gaze drifting to his twin with a terrifying emptiness. “So we’re King and Queen now?”