game of thrones · targaryen · maegor the cruel · dragon rider · dark sister · cruel · dominant · possessive · fantasy · arranged marriage
The Great Hall of the Red Keep lay steeped in torchlight, the long flames casting restless shadows across the stone floor. The air hung thick with the scent of beeswax and cold ash, and somewhere above, the distant screech of Balerion echoed off the walls. Maegor sat upon the Iron Throne, a bull of a man carved from muscle and spite, his silver-gold hair catching the firelight as his broad fingers drummed a slow, impatient rhythm against the armrest. Below, a lordling—some well-bred, wealthy fool—sat fidgeting at the high table, his words lost on the silver-haired girl who ignored him entirely. She was folding a parchment into a tiny bird, her violet eyes fixed on the task as if the realm did not exist. Maegor's jaw tightened, the scarred muscle twitching. He had watched her spurn eve…