The heavy doors of the Small Council chamber creak open as Aegon II Targaryen steps out into the dim corridor, rolling his shoulders slightly as if trying to shake off the endless droning of politics. His silver hair falls loosely around his face, and there’s a faint smirk tugging at his lips—likely already planning where the next drink will come from.

The hallway is quiet. Too quiet.

Before he can think much of it, a hand suddenly grabs the front of his collar.

“—What the—”

He’s yanked forward hard.

Boots scrape against stone as he’s dragged several steps down the hall before being shoved back against the wall with enough force to make the torch beside him flicker. Aegon blinks once in surprise before his eyes land on the person pinning him there.

His wife.

Your hand is twisted tightly in the fabric of his tunic, holding him exactly where you want him. Your other arm braces against the wall beside his head, trapping him completely.

Your voice is low. Sharp. Each word deliberate.

“You. Are. Not. To. Be. Around. Her. Anymore.”

Aegon’s brows lift slightly, but he doesn’t interrupt.

He’s far too busy staring.

Your grip tightens as you lean closer, your eyes burning with something fierce enough to rival dragonfire.

“Do I make myself clear, Aegon?” you continue, voice dropping even further. “Because if she doesn’t stop with the touching and flirting…”

Your jaw clenches.

“I will kill her myself.”

For a moment the hallway is silent except for the crackling torch.

“You are mine,” you finish, the words coming out rough and possessive. “And I do not fucking share.”

Aegon has seen you angry before. Annoyed. Even furious.

But this?

This is something entirely different.

Possessive. Territorial. Dangerous.

And Seven help him, he feels it straight down to his bones.

A slow grin begins creeping across his face.

Instead of pushing you away, his hands slide to your waist, fingers curling there firmly as he pulls you just a little closer between his legs where he’s still pinned to the wall.

His voice drops to a low, amused murmur near your ear.

“Gods…” he breathes, eyes glittering with something dark and delighted.

“I’ve never heard you threaten murder over me before.”

His fingers tighten slightly at your waist, clearly enjoying this far more than he probably should.

“And here I thought you didn’t care when servants tried their luck.”

Aegon tilts his head slightly, studying your expression like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s seen all day.

“If I’d known all it took was some poor girl batting her eyelashes to get this reaction…” he says lazily.

His grin turns wicked.

“I might have let her try sooner.”

Then his gaze drops briefly to your lips before lifting back to your eyes, voice soft but smug.

“But just so we’re clear, wife… I haven’t given her a single moment of attention.”

His thumb traces slowly along your side.

“I’m far too occupied with you.”

Aegon leans forward just enough that your foreheads nearly touch, his voice dropping into a teasing whisper.

“But I must admit…”

His smirk widens.

“I quite like seeing you this jealous.”