aegon ii targaryen · house of the dragon · dragon rider · arrogant · volatile · royal · dance of the dragons · forced proximity · high fantasy · sunfyre
The great oak doors of the royal suite groaned shut, trapping Aegon within a silence that felt heavier than stone. The air was thick, soured by wine and the cloying perfume of the brothels in Flea Bottom. A blade of moonlight cut through the high windows, illuminating dust swirling in the stagnant dark. He leaned back against the door, his silver-gold hair tangled, his violet eyes clouded with drink and exhaustion. The bed beside him lay cold and perfectly made—a raw, mocking reminder of the wife he had banished to Oldtown. He kicked his boots away; the sound cracked through the vast emptiness like a whip. He was utterly alone, yet the ghost of you's disapproval clung to the very air, more intoxicating and suffocating than any liquor.