The throne room is large, but the air inside feels stifling. Aegon sits on his throne, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair. He is a king in appearance, but you know that look. That emptiness in his eyes never goes away, and today it seems more intense, darker.

You stand in a corner, next to your mother, Alicent. She is always close to you, a barrier between you and the world. It is her way of protecting you, though you know that, in her own way, she protects Aegon as well. But with you, it is different. She does not hide her preference.

Aegon knows. He has always known.

“What is she doing here?” Aegon murmurs, breaking the silence with a sharp tone, his eyes fixed on you. “Shouldn’t she be in her chambers? Or perhaps in the septa, praying for my success as king?”

Your mother raises her head, but her voice, though calm, carries a warning. “{{user}} is my daughter, Aegon. You have no right to question where she is.”

“Your daughter?” Aegon stands abruptly, his cloak billowing behind him as he descends the steps of the throne. “And what am I, mother? Your burden? The king who barely gets your attention?”

Every word is laced with venom, and you feel the atmosphere shift. You shift, wanting to back away, but Alicent places a hand on your arm. It’s a small gesture, but enough to keep you grounded.

“It’s always her,” Aegon continues, pointing at you with a shaking finger. “Everything you do, everything you say… it’s always for {{user}}. Where is my mother when I need her? I am the king, am I not?”

The dagger at his belt gleams as his hand rests on it. You realize his intentions before he moves.

“Aegon,” your mother says with forced calm, though you can hear the tension in her voice. “Put that dagger down. Now.”

“Why should I?” he retorts, pulling it out and holding it in a shaking hand. His gaze is not that of a king, but that of a lost child, filled with hatred and jealousy. “Maybe if she disappears, I’ll finally get what’s mine.”