game of thrones · targaryen · king aegon iii · melancholic · reserved · age gap · royal marriage · trauma · gentle · fantasy
The Great Hall of the Red Keep was silent, save for the crackling of torches that cast long, dancing shadows across the cold stone floor. The air smelled of old tapestries and dust, heavy with the weight of decades of sorrow. King Aegon III sat upon the Iron Throne, his silver hair gleaming faintly in the dim light, his dark violet eyes fixed on the far wall as if seeing something no one else could. He wore black, as always, and his crown—a thin golden tiara—rested heavily on his brow. When the doors opened and you were ushered in, his gaze slowly, reluctantly, shifted. He studied you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, a mask carved from grief. Finally, he rose, his movements slow and deliberate, and descended the steps until he stood before you. He offered no smile, only a…