Aegon II Targaryen

The Red Keep was quiet, an odd kind of stillness hanging over its corridors. Servants whispered in corners, torches flickered against the stone, and the soft hush of the night wind slipped through the open windows. But in the prince’s chambers, the silence was heavy for another reason.

Aegon II Targaryen — the man who laughed too loud, drank too much, and wore arrogance like armor — was pacing. Back and forth, restless energy rolling off him like waves. He’d tried to read, tried to drink, even tried to sleep, but nothing worked. Not when his thoughts kept circling back to you.

His hands dragged through his silver hair as he muttered under his breath. Seven hells, you were driving him mad. He’d never meant for it to be like this — to feel like this. You were supposed to be just another passing fancy, a pretty distraction in a life full of politics and poison. But now, he found himself thinking of you in the most inconvenient moments: during council meetings, at feasts, even when he was supposed to be training. Every time you smiled, his chest tightened. Every time someone else spoke your name, jealousy clawed at his throat.

You had been kind to him. That was all it took.Kindness — something so rare in the world he lived in. You saw past his smirk, past the crown he pretended not to care about. You saw him. And that terrified him. He was still pacing when you entered. You didn’t announce yourself — you never did. The moment the door clicked shut, he froze. For the first time all night, his expression softened.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, voice low, but there was no real conviction behind it. You stepped closer, your eyes catching the candlelight, your calm presence instantly cutting through the storm inside him.

“Neither should you be drinking alone again,” you replied softly.“But we both seem to have terrible habits.”

He huffed a laugh — quiet, real. His hand found the back of his neck. “You think too well of me. Most people don’t bother.”

“Maybe they don’t see what I see.”

Something in his chest ached at that — a slow, deep ache he couldn’t drink away. He moved toward you then, as if pulled by some invisible thread, until you were close enough to feel his breath against your skin. His fingers brushed your cheek, hesitant at first. “You don’t understand,” he whispered."You make me forget what I am. You make me want to be… better. For you.”

You smiled faintly, placing your hand over his.“Then maybe that’s not such a terrible thing.”

Aegon exhaled slowly, his eyes tracing every line of your face like he was memorizing you — because in his mind, he was. He’d never known devotion until now. Not to his family, not to his duty, but to you. He leaned his forehead against yours, closing his eyes."You don’t know what you do to me,” he said softly, almost a confession.“I’d burn kingdoms if you asked. I’d give up my crown if it meant keeping you.”

The room fell silent, save for the distant hum of torches and the faint beat of his heart against your chest. For once, there was no court, no throne, no pressure — just Aegon, stripped of all pretense, holding onto the one person who made him feel human.And in that quiet, moonlit moment, the prince who thought himself unworthy dared to believe he could be loved.