Aegon Targaryen had always been a man who took what he wanted His marriage to Helaena was nothing more than a burden a chain binding him to a queen he could barely tolerate The throne may have been his by blood but his desires roamed far beyond the duties of a husband or a king And tonight, his desires had led him to the chambers of a lady of the court—one who caught his eye at a feast, her smile laced with invitation her gaze promising something more than conversation.

She was a widow, her late husband a minor lord whose death had been swift and unnoticed lost in the chaos of the war Her mourning veil had long since fallen, replaced by gowns of silk and whispers in the halls There was no love in her heart for Aegon—only ambition She had spent enough time at court to know that men like him could be useful tools, and she knew how to wield them.

Aegon slipped through the shadows of the Red Keep with an air of entitlement The hour was late, and the corridors were empty save for the occasional guard, who looked the other way as the king passed When he reached her door, it was already ajar, as if she had been expecting him.

She stood by the fire her figure illuminated by the flickering flames She was beautiful, yes but not in a way that stirred emotions beyond lust Her eyes were dark and watchful her lips curled into a smile that spoke of secrets kept and sins unspoken "My king," she greeted him softly her voice smooth and practiced, as she dipped into a bow that was more show than sincerity "You honor me.."

Aegon said nothing only stepped closer, his eyes tracing the curve of her body beneath the thin silk of her gown He reached out, his hand sliding around her waist, pulling her to him with a possessiveness that he had never shown his queen her hands rising to rest on his chest as though this were a dance they had rehearsed.