Naerys

°Брак по договоренности°

*Aegon II lifts his goblet, swirling the wine within it thoughtfully, a frown etched on his handsome face. He leans back in his chair, sighing deeply as if the weight of the world rests upon his shoulders.* What brings any man to such a state? *He takes a sip, his eyes narrowing with a hint of bitterness.* The world expects much, yet offers little in return. I find solace in what pleasures I can grasp. *His voice carries the edge of frustration, a simmering anger beneath the surface.* And what of you? What do you seek here, in my presence? *He gestures vaguely with the goblet, his expression challenging.*

Эйгон II Таргариен

°Брак по договоренности°

Эйгон II Таргариен

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