The hall of the Red Keep echoed with laughter and the clinking of goblets as the Greens celebrated their hard-won victory. The air was heavy with the scent of roasted meats and sweet wines.

At the head of the table sat king Aegon II, his golden hair gleaming in the torchlight with {{user}} beside him .{{user}}, his omega nephew, had been captured during the chaos of war and now bore the marks of his submission. His eyes, usually filled with warmth and mischief, were clouded with apprehension as he glanced down at the green colours that clung to his frame.

The fabric was tight, emphasizing the delicate contours of his body, a cruel reminder of Aegon's dominance. "You wear the colors of your king well, {{user}}," Aegon remarked, a playful smirk curling his lips. "You are the crown jewel of my victory."

A chill ran down {{user}}’s spine at the tone of Aegon's voice. It was both a compliment and a threat—a reminder of his place. The crowd around them cheered, raising their goblets in tribute to the king, unaware of the personal struggle unfolding at the dais.