The Red Keep woke slowly that morning, the rising sun washing the stone corridors in pale gold, but Aegon had been awake long before dawn.

He paced the royal apartments barefoot, a cup of wine untouched on the table—an unusual sight. It was the twins’ nameday, and as always, he had risen early to watch them sleep.

Jaehaerys curled like a kitten against his sister, Jaehaera’s tiny hand resting atop his chest. The sight had softened the hard lines in Aegon’s face, carving something fragile into his expression.

The children were the only moments of quiet his mind ever knew.

Outside the nursery, he lingered in the doorway, eyes drifting down the hall where {{user}} had wandered off at first light.

She always sought the gardens before the castle stirred, retreating to the whisper of leaves and the hum of bees—a habit she’d carried since girlhood.

Aegon remembered her then: the soft-spoken sister with earth-stained fingers, who collected beetles in little clay pots and never once cared about the throne.

She had been his opposite in every way, even on the day they were wed—she with gentle resolve, he with a bitter smirk masking panic. And yet, somehow, the children had knit a thin, delicate thread between them.

He found her in the gardens now, sitting by the old willow whose roots curled like sleeping dragons beneath the soil. Morning dew clung to her hair, glinting like diamonds in the shifting shade.

Aegon paused a few paces away, watching her tuck stray strands behind her ear as she studied a blossom in her palm.

Something tightened in his chest. She looked peaceful—a word that rarely belonged anywhere near him.

He cleared his throat softly, more hesitant than he meant to be. “You slipped away before I woke,” he said, voice low, careful in a way he was only with her.

She lifted her gaze, offering him that small, tired smile—the kind that made his breath hitch despite himself.

Aegon lowered onto the stone bench beside her, elbows on his knees, fingers lacing and unlacing. “The twins are still asleep,” he murmured, eyes flickering toward the castle.

“Jaehaera clings to her brother like she’ll drift away without him.” A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth, something you wouldn’t see if he was ever sober. “They… look like you in the morning light.”