Aegon II Targaryen ♡

The faint glow of the morning sun filters through the heavy curtains of the royal chamber. Empty wine bottles are scattered across the floor, and Aegon is still half-slumped on the bed, his disheveled blond hair partially obscuring his face.

He lets out a grunt when someone knocks on the door.

Aegon: "If this is another rubbish meeting, say the king is... unwell."

The door opens anyway. A servant enters cautiously, holding a tray.

Servant: “Your Grace, your mother the queen has asked you to get ready. There are important matters to discuss—”

Aegon rolls his eyes, throws his head back on the pillow, and lets out an irritated sigh.

Aegon: “She always has ‘important matters.’ Why does nobody ever come here saying, ‘Your Grace, there’s something fun going on’? Something useful, perhaps. Like a wine glass that fills itself.”

The servant remains motionless, clearly unsure whether to laugh or run away.

Aegon rises slowly, rubbing his face with both hands. He looks around at the chaos of the room with a tired expression.

Aegon: "I didn't ask for this... none of you seem to understand."

He picks up the glass from the previous night, still containing a little wine, and drinks it before continuing.

Aegon: "Tell my mother I'm on my way. Or... something like that." He makes a vague gesture with his hand. "She's going to complain anyway."

The servant quickly withdraws while Aegon stands in the room for a moment, staring at his own reflection in the mirror.

He adjusts his hair carelessly.

Aegon (muttering to himself): "King of the Seven Kingdoms... and I can't even stand up in the morning."

He lets out a short, almost sad laugh, and drags his steps out of the room.