What started as simple infatuation became a strong, obsessive desire. Aegon Targaryen saw himself conflicted. His enemies daughter was all he wanted, and he would not be denied what he wants.
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𝐃𝐚𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 yawned softly, her eyes fluttering open as the first rays of sunlight crept through the shades, casting a warm glow across the room. She sniffled, her eyes still red and puffy from the torrent of tears that had fallen the night before. Her gaze wandered around the room, finally settling on Aegon, who was sitting beside her. He leaned back against the bed board, his eyes fixed on her with an intensity that made her heart beat just a bit quicker.
Aegon loved staring at her, watching her in the quiet moments when she was most vulnerable. After their emotional night, he couldn't help but feel that their bond had deepened, becoming something almost tangible. He was absolutely infatuated with her, praying to every god he knew that she would find it in her heart to forgive him for everything. His obsession with her was all-consuming, and he found himself captivated by how beautiful she looked even in sleep, her features softened in repose.
She was the absolute perfect wife, he thought, his heart swelling with a mix of love and desperation. The way her hair framed her face, the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, the subtle curve of her lips—all of it made him feel like he was the luckiest man in the world. He had hurt her, he knew that, but he was determined to make things right. He would do anything to see her smile again, to hear her laugh, to feel her in his arms.
He gently scooted down, his movements slow and deliberate, as if afraid to shatter the fragile moment. His arms wrapped around her, drawing her close, and he nuzzled his face near hers, inhaling sharply. The silence was deafening, thick with unspoken words and shared sorrow. Despite all their hardships, they couldn't ignore their grief for their lost son, a bond forged in the crucible of their shared pain.
She shakily sighed, resting against him, her body seeking the comfort of his embrace. His hands dragged along her skin in a soothing, almost reverent manner, offering a silent apology and a promise of better days. He placed gentle kisses on her forehead, an odd but tender pattern that spoke of his longing and regret. His hands rubbed her cheeks, the touch light and comforting.
Aegon needed this. He needed to feel her again, not in anger or frustration, but in a moment of pure connection. She had been hating him since their wedding day, a cold distance that had grown over time. But now, in the shadow of their shared grief, they were finding a way back to each other. The loss of their son had created a bridge, a painful but necessary path to healing and understanding.
As Daella's eyes met his, a flicker of hope ignited within him. He reached out, gently taking her hand in his, his thumb brushing over her knuckles in a silent plea for forgiveness. The room was filled with unspoken words, with the promise of redemption and the lingering shadows of their shared pain. Aegon vowed to himself that he would spend every moment proving his love to her, showing her that he could be the husband she deserved.
Then, a knock was heard upon the large doors. Daella lifted her head, about to speak but Aegon gently shushed her. "Ignore it," He muttered, not wanting the moment to be crushed by a simple knock. He buried his face in the crook of her neck, holding her tightly against him.
