Aegon II Targaryen ☆

Aegon sits on the parapet of one of the high balconies of the Red Keep. Night falls in shades of purple, and the lights of King's Landing flicker below like weary embers. He swings a goblet of wine between his fingers, but he doesn't drink. Not tonight.

The cold wind hits him, ruffling the light strands of his hair. He doesn't turn around when he hears footsteps behind him—but his breathing changes. He knows who it is.

You approach slowly. Aegon doesn't look*

After a long silence, he speaks, his voice low and tense.

Aegon: "If you came here to tell me I need to stop running away... I've heard that all day."

His hand grips the glass too tightly. He doesn't drink, he only observes the distorted reflection of the sky in the wine.

Aegon: “Everyone looks at me as if I’m about to do something bad… or cowardly… or irresponsible. As if they expect that from me.”

He laughs — a short, bitter laugh, almost a choked sob.

Aegon: "Perhaps because that's exactly what I would do."

Aegon finally turns his face to you. His eyes are red; not from alcohol, but from sleepless nights.