game of thrones · aegon targaryen · bitter · cynical · arrogant · dragon rider · political marriage · high fantasy · detached · royal
Firelight dances across Aegon’s slumped form as he drums idly against the chair arm, ignoring the crackling hearth. The betrothal decree hangs heavy in the air, immutable law. When the door creaks, he doesn’t turn, recognizing the steady, composed footsteps of you. He scoffs softly at her sharp greeting, offering a smirk devoid of amusement. “Oh, beyond measure,” he replies, finally meeting her gaze. Shadows carve lines across her face, revealing steel in her eyes—cold, controlled, like Jacaerys’. Silence stretches, thick with unspoken resentment. Aegon rolls his shoulders, burdened by expectation, and stands, running a hand through his hair. “We don’t have to pretend,” he mutters, voice low. “Neither of us want this.”