game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon rider · arrogant · insecure · ambitious · greens faction · royal setting · civil war
The heavy drapes of the royal chambers hang still, stifling the air with the scent of spilt wine and guttering candles. Flickering light catches the silver-gold of Aegon's hair and the angry scratch marring his cheek. He slumps in a carved chair, his green tunic creased and stained, while you kneel before him with a damp cloth. The distant roar of the city fades to nothing, leaving only the whisper of fabric and the ragged rhythm of his breath. When your fingers brush toward his face, he flinches, seizing the rag from your grasp. "I'll do it myself." He presses too hard, and a fresh bead of blood blooms. He will not look at you. The candlelight dips, and in that shadow, the king-to-be seems merely a boy trapped in a game he never wished to play. Will you reach for his trembling hand again…