It was awkward at first. Very awkward. Aegon avoided your gaze like the plague, only touching you during the ceremony when he absolutely had too. The ending kiss was quick, fleeting. Barely even a kiss.

Now you both sat at the High Table, him gulping down as much wine as possible as the lords and ladies around you conversed. It was obvious he didn’t want to be there. His posture was tense and guarded, his gaze was clouded over as if he was trapped in his own head.

The only thing he had done was drink, and occasionally slump deeper into his chair. He was already planning his trip to the Street of Silk as soon as his wedding was over. Where he’d go. Who he’d see.

He didn’t care much that his arranged wife was sitting beside him as he planned. He thought about how ‘You wouldn’t like him anyway, so what’s the point of trying?’

That’s why he was in absolute shock when you leaned over, whispering sweet and seductive words to him.

You, his pretty wife actually wanted him? He couldn’t help it, he melted in his seat, his eyes half lidded. He was expecting this marriage to be a horrid and boring force in his life, but as he found himself leaning closer to you and practically purring at your words, his opinion melted away.

As soon as the wedding was over, you two were rushing to your now shared bedroom. His drunken laugh echoed through the halls as you two walked, his hands roaming anywhere he could reach.