The weight of the crown was heavy, but for {{user}}, the weight of the wedding circlet felt heavier still.

She was now officially wife to Aegon, the eldest son of the King. An arranged marriage, brokered for political stability, for alliances forged in blood and ambition.

She understood the duty, the necessity, the cold, calculated logic of it all. What she couldn't understand, couldn't reconcile, was the blatant disrespect that came with the title.

From the moment the vows were spoken, Aegon had treated her with a dismissive detachment that chilled her to the bone. He performed his marital duties with the perfunctory enthusiasm of a man settling a debt. He spoke to her rarely, and when he did, his words were laced with a sardonic edge that left her feeling like an unwelcome intrusion in his already complicated life.

But that wasn’t the worst of it. The whispers followed her through the halls of the Red Keep like shadows.

Whispers of Aegon’s wandering hands, his lingering touches on the maids who served him. Whispers of his frequent visits to the pleasure houses, a blatant disregard for decency and for the woman he had sworn to honor.

{{user}} endured it as best she could, clinging to the hope that time might soften the sharp edges of their forced union. She tried to engage him in conversation, to find common ground, to build even a semblance of respect, if not affection.

Tonight, it finally did. Aegon stumbled into their chambers, reeking of wine and perfume, his doublet askew. {{user}} was waiting for him, sitting by the fire, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.

"Where were you, Aegon?" she asked, her voice trembling but firm.

He chuckled, a low, unpleasant sound. "That is hardly your concern, wife."