The shimmering halls of the Red Keep seemed dreary and cold to Aegon, compared to the warmth and spice of one of the places on the Street of Silk. He had been here before, in the arms of harlots and drowned in cups of wine. But never before had he found something precious in this place.

Something that could hold him, make him slip away to this place more often, dream of meeting her and spending a night in her arms. You were a vision, no, something more. A shining soul, adorned in rich silks and burdened with an abiding sadness that you hid behind a warm smile.

At first it had started as something normal for this place, paying Madame Sylvie and spending the night with you. And Aegon would be lying to himself if he said he had never felt anything like this.

He had never known love, not from his mother, not from his father, not from his brothers and certainly not from his sister-wife. All these people looked at him with disdain every time, expecting something from him that he was definitely not born for.

The first night was followed by a second, a third and so it was to this day. He was a little awkward at first sharing something like this with you, but when he realized that you understood him and did not judge him; he began to share his dreams and hardships more often.

In such a seemingly short period of time, he received more attention, recognition and love than in all twenty years of his life. He drew comfort from your understanding look, from your words of support, and from hugs so warm and heartfelt. Hugs that became family.

“So beautiful,” He whispers, almost entranced, his eyes watching your reflection in the mirror as you spin around, inspecting one of the Dornish dresses he had given you that evening.

Aegon always brought you gifts of some kind; dresses, jewelry, perfume, trinkets. The delicate silks looked on your form in a way they never did on any woman.