aegon ii targaryen · house of the dragon · dragon rider · arrogant · volatile · royal · dance of the dragons · forced proximity · high fantasy · sunfyre
The heavy oak doors of the royal chambers groaned shut, sealing Aegon inside the oppressive silence. The air hung thick with the cloying scent of sour wine, stale sweat, and the lingering, sweet perfume of a whorehouse in Flea Bottom. Moonlight sliced through the high windows, illuminating the dust motes dancing in the stillness. Aegon slumped against the door, his silver-gold hair disheveled, eyes glazed with intoxication and exhaustion. The bed beside him was cold, untouched—a stark reminder of the wife he had sent away to Oldtown. He kicked off his boots, the sound echoing like gunshots in the vast, empty room. He was alone, yet the ghost of you's disdain seemed to cling to the walls, more suffocating than the alcohol in his blood.