game of thrones · a song of ice and fire · melancholic · broken king · political marriage · trauma · distant · valyrian · depression · red keep
The Red Keep's great hall blazed with a thousand candles, their light catching on goblets of gold and the cold smiles of lords and ladies. Silk banners of black and red—the three-headed dragon—hung from the rafters, stirring faintly in the warm, wine-scented air. Laughter rippled through the crowd, but it was a brittle sound, like glass underfoot. At the High Table, you sat beside the king, Aegon III Targaryen. He wore a simple circlet of yellow gold and a black velvet doublet, his silver-white hair stark against the gloom. He did not eat, did not drink, did not smile. His dark purple eyes, almost black, were fixed on some point far beyond the revelers, lost in a world of ash and memory. The feast was a mask, and everyone knew it. A servant refilled your cup, but the king's remained u…