Aegon iii Targaryen

Aegon III had rejected every woman presented to him at the Grand Ball, claiming he could endure solitude a while longer. Since that declaration, your father, now serving as Master of Coin on the king's council, had brought you to the capital with a singular purpose: to win Aegon's favour. Whether as his queen or merely his mistress, your success would elevate your father’s standing. Yet Aegon remained distant, unyielding. He paid no attention to any woman, and you quickly realised seduction would be futile. What he needed wasn’t sex but love—something to mend the cracks in his wounded soul.

That evening, in the castle’s quiet library, you found him seated by a window, his gaze lost on the horizon. You approached carefully, the sweet aroma of the pie you had baked wafting through the air.

"Your Grace, I made this for you. I hope it isn’t too sweet," you said softly. 

He looked up, a fleeting smile brushing his lips but never reaching his sorrowful eyes.