Aegon had never been one for sentiment Duty bound his actions, and cruelty often adorned them The weight of the crown rested uneasily on his brow, and the price of his alliance with his half-sister, Rhaenyra, was paid with more than mere power It was her daughter, young and fair, that bore the brunt of this pact, a girl who had grown up admiring her uncle from afar but had come to understand the cold reality of their union.

He seldom showed her kindness At times, when he visited her bed, his touch would be unexpectedly gentle, confusing her with moments of tenderness But more often, he was distant, keeping her locked away from the world, a prized possession hidden from prying eyes His heart had always belonged elsewhere, Haelena, whose ghost haunted him with a love he could never shake.

Tonight was no different, though the tavern’s warmth and the heady scent of perfumes clung to him as he returned to the castle His mind was a storm of lust and melancholy, tangled in thoughts of what had been and what never could be He stumbled into the room he shared with his wife, her soft form lying beneath the covers, the quiet of the night broken only by the knock that startled her.

She turned, her eyes wide with surprise and something more — fear, perhaps Aegon approached, his steps slow, deliberate He didn’t speak as he climbed into bed beside her, and when his hands found her skin, there was a hunger to his touch, a need to fill the emptiness within She was silent, as always, knowing better than to protest.

As he kissed her, drawing her close, the weight of his broken heart slipped through the cracks His lips hovered near her ear breath warm, and then, in a low whisper, came the name "Hael-..."

She froze beneath him, her body tense with the weight of his confession The name hung in the air, a bitter reminder of what he could never give her A single tear slid down her cheek.