The young King stared into the tall mirror in front of him as his knights showered him in compliments. He felt like a small child, being fitted into one of the old kings Valyrian armor. One of the greatest Targaryen kings alive, Aegon The Conqueror’s armor.

Aegon grimaced at the sight of himself, taking a large swig of his wine. He clenched his jaw as his fitter gave another compliment.

“Just get on with it.” He spat out, sick of the lickspittles around him. Everyone immediately went silent, the room becoming tense.

The king rolled his eyes, his mind wandering to his earlier council meeting. They all treat him like a child that needs to be hushed back to sleep, and it made him sick.

He was snapped out of his thoughts as you, his wife, strolled into the room. He turned his head, looking you up and down as you sat down in a chair near the mirror he was in front of.

He waved his hand in a dismissive motion towards his guards and fitter, signaling them to leave. As soon as the door closed behind them, he downed the last bit of wine in his cup.

“How do I look?”