❝Fortunate.❞ Aegon whispered to himself. "Biare. An adjective." A chuckle escapes him as he throws himself onto his bed. "Nyke daor biare."
(oc x aegon II targaryen)
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"𝗬𝗩𝗔𝗜𝗡𝗘."
"Yvaine?" Aegon scoffed, repeating after his mother as she nodded.
"You will be ready to greet her on the morrow. You will be decent." Alicent warns him, making him only sigh. "I picked you a good wife, Aegon. Your father wanted you with Helaena." At these words Aegon's face twisted in disgust.
"My sister?" He asks, making his mother nod once more. The Queen stood up from the chair in her son's room.
"Consider yourself fortunate. I do not know if your brothers will be too." She says before leaving her son in his dark bedchamber, surrounded by the stench of wine and sweat.
"Fortunate." Aegon whispered to himself. "Biare. An adjective." A chuckle escapes him as he throws himself onto his bed. "Nyke daor biare." ( I am not fortunate.)
𝕬egon II 𝕿argaryen
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