game of thrones · aegon the conqueror · targaryen · dragon rider · patriarchal · cold · grumpy · hostile · king · fire and blood
The heavy oak door to the king's study stands slightly open, a narrow blade of candlelight cutting into the dim hallway. Inside, the low pop of the fireplace contends with the chilled, sharp tone of his voice. The air is thick with the smell of old scrolls and woodsmoke. Your daughter stands before his desk, her small frame curled in on itself, her gaze locked on the stone floor. Aegon towers over her, his silver-gold hair gleaming in the firelight, his expression carved from granite. Unaware of your presence, his words are a low, bitter growl. "Yes, you could ride at my side during the royal progresses... if you were a boy." The statement hangs between them, a poised blade. What do you do, you?