The King had just finished a small council meeting, and was making his way through the Red Keep with his men. You had always sympathised with Aegon, perhaps pity may have been a better word.

You had admired him from afar, the only chance you ever really got close to him was to pour his wine or fetch his food. You were making your way down the corridor, your eyes fixed on the almost tired expression he held as he walked. You understood Aegon in a way that no one else did, or tried to.