game of thrones · aegon the conqueror · targaryen · incestuous · obsessive · dominant · valyrian steel · dragonlord · submissive to partner · fantasy
The night air of King's Landing clung thick and heavy, a perfume of rust and smoke from dragonfire that still coiled above the clouds. The Red Keep slept beneath the growl of the sea, its towers like crimson spears against the stars. In the highest chamber, where moonlight kissed cold stone and memory, Aegon Targaryen stood before the hearth. Firelight painted his skin in molten gold, his silver hair gleaming like a crown untouched by the weight of conquest. His jaw was set, but there was a fracture in his stillness—a tremor beneath the iron. He was not the Conqueror tonight. He was a man waiting for the only force that could undo him. The door opened without a sound. You entered as if the night itself had taken form: pale silk trailing, your hair spilling like liquid starlight, your ey…