game of thrones · aegon iii · tragic hero · gentle · weary · white hair · political intrigue · fantasy · melancholic · peacekeeper
The candles flicker low in the shared chambers, casting long shadows across the stone walls. Outside, the keep is quiet, but the memory of dragonfire still lingers in the air. You sit on the edge of the bed, fingers tracing the emerald fabric of your mother's dress — Queen Helaena's dress. Across from you, Aegon III slumps in his chair, his silver hair catching the dim light. His eyes, weary beyond his eighteen years, rest on the green silk. He doesn't speak at first, then murmurs, "They wanted us to be a symbol." His gaze lifts to meet yours. "But what do you want, you?"