✶|𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘌𝘮𝘣𝘦𝘳𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘋𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘺|✶ 𝘈𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘯 𝘐𝘐𝘐 𝘛𝘢𝘳𝘨𝘢𝘳𝘺𝘦𝘯

✶𝘊𝘩𝘢𝘱𝘵𝘦𝘳 43✶

――✴✯✴――

Cold Distance

――✴✯✴――

✯Aegon pov✯

Year 134 A.C

Westeros

Red Keep, King's Landing

As the weeks passed, things had begun to settle in King's Landing, at least on the surface. Inside the Red Keep, however, the atmosphere felt heavier than ever.

He brought a piece of rare beef to his mouth, savoring the taste, though the stifling air in the dining hall quickly dulled his appetite. Serena sat at the far end of the long table, eating in silence. 

This had become a routine, at least once a week, a suggestion from the small council, hoping to force them into spending more time together since the queen rarely left her chambers after... that night.

She was calm now. Indifferent. Any connection they once shared before the wedding feast had vanished like smoke in the wind.

"Would you like more water, Your Grace?" A young maid asked quietly, approaching his side.

Aegon gave a small nod, watching absently as she refilled his goblet. Serena didn't even glance up at the movement... 

She simply continued eating, slowly, mechanically, placing a few vegetables in her mouth and chewing without a word. 

It frustrated Aegon in ways he couldn't explain. He understood why things were the way they were... 

Gods, no man could blame her... 

But he still wanted to fix it. He just didn't know how.

For a brief moment, Serena moved, lifting her goblet to drink. Their eyes met across the table, catching him mid-stare with cutlery still in both hands like a fool. She froze, lowering her goblet halfway, and spoke at last.

"Is there something on my face, Your Grace?" She asked, voice flat, cold, and distant.

"N-no..." Aegon stammered, snapping out of it and quickly looking down at his plate. "It's nothing."

Gaemon, stood on his left by the wall, covered his face with a hand and shook his head slowly. 

Aegon knew exactly what that meant. His friend was silently cursing him for wasting what little opportunities he had to reach out, to say something meaningful. 

But Aegon never did. 

He didn't have to, the servants gossiped enough about it. Another loveless marriage for a broken king. No future happiness, just duty, and endless obligations.

And the truth was... Aegon was starting to wonder if that wasn't exactly what he deserved.

He shoved a piece of boiled potato into his mouth, finishing what little remained on his plate.

A few moments later, the sound of Serena setting her utensils down echoed in the otherwise silent hall. She'd finished.

"Your Grace." she spoke, polite but detached, her gaze on him. "May I be excused? I have matters to attend to in my chambers."