"On the bench, Aegon had brought his feet up and sat with his arms around his knees and his face buried therein, the royal robes dangling down into the muck the way his overlong cloaks used to, the moonlight and its reflection in the ice warping the red brocade and black fur to the colors of wine and haze. His hair shone like the river’s frozen surface, but of his skin Dunk could only see one bare, trembling hand." - The Hall of Empty Sconces by Mithrigil
Fanart for a scene in one of my favorites ASOIAF fanfics that tells the Tragedy at Summerhall in a beautifully painful and multilayered manner. It's so well written, it feels like my canon narrative at this point.
