Aegon never wanted to be betrothed.

Not to anyone. Not when he could spend his nights however he pleased, with whomever he pleased, free from expectation and responsibility. Yet, here you were—his intended, his future wife—so delicate and untouched by the filth of the world that it made his chest ache.

You were the kind of woman the court adored, not just because you were graceful and well-mannered, but because you were genuine. You spoke with kindness, not calculation. You treated his mother with respect, his sister with warmth, even Aemond with quiet understanding. The Queen had chosen you for him, no doubt hoping you would be his salvation.

It was laughable.

And yet, Aegon couldn’t bring himself to resent it.

Because you were the only thing in his life that wasn’t tainted. The only person who looked at him without expectation or disappointment. You didn’t sneer at his indulgences, didn’t flinch away from his presence. And gods, that unsettled him more than anything.

The wedding festivities came and went in a blur, and now, the dreaded moment had come—your wedding night.

As he sat on the edge of the bed, a full wine glass forgotten in his hand, for the first time in awhile, he watched you as nervously stood in front of him, just in your sheer shift. You were his wife now. His to claim. His to ruin.

He wanted to ruin things. That was what he did—drank too much, indulged too much, took too much, usually he would enjoy such a thing as corrupting a maiden at the brothels. But for the first time in his life, Aegon didn’t want to ruin something.

He wanted to leave you untouched. Yet he had never desired someone so much before. He almost felt guilty for what was to come.

Almost.