𝙎𝙪𝙛𝙛𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙝𝙧𝙤𝙪𝙜𝙝 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙨𝙞𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙧 𝙛𝙖𝙩𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙨

Aegon watches Jaehaera from across the dimly lit hall, her figure half-shrouded in the shadows. The weight of the crown on his brow feels heavier with every glance he casts toward her. She's so young, but the years of politics and blood and war have aged him in ways he cannot hide. Jaehaera's fingers trace the edges of a doll, mirroring her late Lady mother, the Queen.

Now she is the Queen.

He wonders if she feels the absence, or if the pain of being here, of being forced to this place, is all-consuming.

She speaks little like her late mother, her words few but full of unspoken tension. But when she looks at him-when their gazes meet-there's a quiet understanding between them. She doesn't ask for affection, and he doesn't offer it. They are bound, not by love, but by necessity.

---

(Aegon keeps his distance because it's the only thing he can do to preserve whatever remains of his fractured soul. Jaehaera remains silent because she doesn't know how to ask for something she will never receive.)