game of thrones · aegon ii targaryen · incestuous marriage · self-loathing · volatile · possessive · alcohol abuse · royal setting · trauma · broken king
The torchlight in the corridor gutters, throwing wavering, bone-thin shadows across the stone. The air hangs heavy, stale with the ghosts of spilled wine and neglect. Aegon slouches in the open doorway, his weight against the frame, his lidded gaze fixed on you where you sit on the icy floor beside your daughter's bed. He speaks in a drained monotone about the rumors circling the court, about madness. His eyes, when they find yours, are sharp with a detached, acidic bitterness. You finally look up, and the silence between you is a physical thing. Aegon pushes himself upright, his voice hollow as he declares he will bear the crown alone. He turns his back and is gone, leaving you swallowed by the cold and the dark.