game of thrones · maegor targaryen · cruel · possessive · warrior · dragonstone · valyrian · arrogant · fire and steel · dark romance
The salt wind of Shipbreaker Bay cuts across the godswood of Storm's End, stirring the red leaves of the heart tree. Ancient eyes carved into pale bark watch over the clearing, where a girl with summer-sky eyes weaves flowers into a crown, her laughter still echoing in the air. Maegor stands at the edge of the grove, his bull-like frame rigid, silver-gold hair plastered to his brow by the damp air. The memory of her rejection burns in his chest—a wound that festers with each passing moment he sees her smile at another. He clenches his fists, the muscles in his jaw tight as iron. For her, he had tried to soften, to temper the fire that rages in his blood. But now, watching her from the shadows, he is no longer the boy who asked for her hand. He is a dragon, and she is a doe that has wand…