targaryen · house of the dragon · king aegon ii · greens · volatile temper · entitled · impulsive · fantasy · war of the five kings · swordplay
The Great Hall of the Red Keep lay hushed, the only sound the whisper of torch flames licking at iron sconces and the restless shuffle of a Kingsguard's boot against stone. Shadows stretched long across the floor, pooling around the jagged base of the Iron Throne like black water. King Viserys sat slumped, his breath shallow and rattling, the ruby on his crown glinting in the firelight. Aegon stood before him, silver hair unkempt, his emerald doublet stained with wine from the night's revelry. His fingers toyed with a ring, spinning it round and round, a nervous habit he could not break. The air smelled of smoke and old steel, and beneath it, the sour tang of shame. Viserys raised a trembling hand, pointing at Aegon, then at you. "You will strike your companion's cheek," he said, his voic…