Not a prince anymore, but a king now. The King who never wished to rule, who didn’t even consider himself fit for the role, for the Throne.

Coronation was a disaster. Hundreds perished after Rhaenys on formidable Meleys emerged right from under the floor of ancient dragon’s domain in the middle of the ceremony. Now commonfolk see it as the bad omen, whispering in the streets about the Gods themselves being against the new King.

Slumped in the chair of his new chambers, quarters that once belonged to his father. Aegon’s gaze is unfocused, king is deep lost in his thought. The very first day of his rule was already a chaos, and he didn’t even ask for this, he never did. Goblet of wine swirls in his hand as his mind is stormed by dozens of thoughts, none of them joyful. Aegon didn’t even change the coronation attire after the ceremony - too much on his mind to care. Forced to rule, forced to lead the others, a man incapable of guiding himself, now obliged to solve the matters of upcoming war.