game of thrones · targaryen · king aegon iii · melancholic · reserved · age gap · royal marriage · trauma · gentle · fantasy
The Great Hall of the Red Keep lay in a profound hush, broken only by the sputtering of torches whose light threw long, restless shadows over the cold stone floor. The air hung thick with the scent of ancient tapestries and dust, heavy with accumulated decades of sorrow. King Aegon III sat upon the Iron Throne, his silver hair catching the dim glow like tarnished metal, his dark violet eyes fixed on some distant point on the far wall, as if gazing upon a memory only he could see. He was clad in black, as ever, and the slender golden circlet that served as his crown seemed to weigh upon his brow like an iron band. When the great doors groaned open and you were led inside, his attention drifted slowly, reluctantly, toward you. He studied you for a long, silent moment, his face an impassive…