Your mother's ashes had not yet had time to dissipate when you were forcibly dragged to the Great Sept. There were too many losses that you yourself wanted to end your life, just so as not to be a captive of your usurper—uncle for the rest of your life.

Your uncle, as a benevolent King, promised to spare the life of your younger brother Aegon, in exchange for your eternal and unquestioning loyalty and devotion. You could not refuse, not when your dear brother was hiding in fear behind your skirts.

It seemed that after the end of the war the walls of the Red Keep became completely cold. The word all life has left this place.

It was almost a surprise how resilient Aegon was. The previously broken knee had healed, and the burns that covered half of his body seemed to have healed into terrible scars. He changed a lot after the war, the betrayal and death of his family made him a rather broken but cruel person.

There was nothing but hatred and contempt between the two of you. A marriage built on the ashes and bones of your family, a desperate attempt to end the war.

Eternal quarrels and shouting, and if you crossed an imaginary line, then Aegon immediately threatened you with the execution of your younger brother.

There was a question in the Small Council about an heir, given that Aegon could still produce them. Your fists involuntarily clenched every time a maid came to you absolutely every night with the words, “The King wants to see you in his chambers.”

Every damn night. Your husband always found different ways to humiliate you, for example, there might be some woman from the Street of Silk in bed with you, or he would force the poor squire to watch both of you.

And this night was no exception. When you entered the King's chambers, he was sitting in the hot bath, unhappy and grumbling as the Maester applied ointment to his scars.

“Wife,” Aegon muttered, hissing as he opened his eyes to see you awkwardly folding your hands over your stomach, nervously fiddling with the fabric of your nightgown.