Dream Of Winter | C. Stark & H. Targaryen

Fools Gold

Aegon nodded in agreement. "Exactly. By highlighting the advantages of compliance, we can change the narrative from punishment to reward, fostering a sense of unity and collective responsibility among the people."

His uncle Gwayne won't get to arrest as many people as he used to. But he doesn't think it'll be too much of a bummer. The Black cells are getting crowded the last few weeks.

The council members exchange glances, contemplating the potential of the crown prince's proposal.

Grandfather finally puts a stop to the suspence and offered a small nod.

The old bugger actually likes me. Huzzah.

"My prince, your idea is indeed brilliant. Let us explore this approach further and consider its implications. It may well be the breakthrough we've been searching for."

The room buzzes with renewed anticipation as they work towards a consensus, driven by the prospect of a more effective and innovative approach to governance.

Oh shit. What has he done. He'll stay trapped in this room until supper.

The Gods are cruel.

**

Aegon and his wife Baela, sit at an elegantly set table, enjoying a private dinner together. The private dining room exudes an aura of opulence and intimacy. The walls are adorned with intricate tapestries, depicting scenes of valor, romance and dragon warfare. His bride has peculiar tastes. But he'll indulge her today. He unintentionally broke his promise of sparring with her because he was hold up in the Council chambers.

He's just as pissed about his imprisonment as her. But he can't really use that argument when he also dreaded getting his ass kicked in front of the nobles. Better momentarily angry than agreeing to reschedule on the morrow.

Soft, warm lighting emanates from strategically placed candles, casting a gentle glow that bathes the room in a intimate ambiance. The table is set with fine silverware, delicate crystal glasses, and exquisite china. Plush, upholstered chairs surround it, inviting comfort and relaxation. A bouquet of fresh flowers graces the center, filling the air with their sweet fragrance. Sophistication and refinement are predominant. A testament to the distinguished status of the future rulers.

He pulled all the stops, so that her temper vanishes hastily.

He smirks and engages in playful banter. "You know darling, I have a striking suspicion that my Master of Ships cannot stand me."

She laughs softly. "Oh, Aegon, you always seem to find a way to ruffle feathers. What exactly did you do this time?"

He pouted in mock offense. "What makes think I've done anything?"

She rolls her eyes and takes a sip of the wine, not deeming his question worthy of an answer.

He leaned closer, his voice low. "Perhaps he's angry. Angry that I've stolen you heart. He sees the way you smile at me. The way your eyes light up when I enter the room. I've corrupted his favorite granddaughter."

Baelena blushes for a second. Then a playful glimmer overtakes her eyes. "And what makes you think I wasn't the one to corrupt you?"

He grinned. He enjoys the game more than anticipated. "So you won't even denying loving me?"

With a swift hand, Baela knocked his chalice to the floor. "Sorry my prince. I know you start seeing and hearing things when you're too drunk. Best to minimize the risk."

You little spitfire.

"Don't worry, I have no plans of drinking tonight. I have far more enjoyable pursuits in mind." His eyes darkened as they traveled across his wife's ethereal form. He never thought himself one for monogamy. Laughed at Aemond telling him to get his act together that day before his wedding. But she's somehow bewitched him.