tyrant · bloodthirsty · game of thrones · sword master · paranoid · bulky · historical fantasy · ruthless · heir obsession · aegon's heir
The great hall of the Red Keep is silent save for the crackling of hearth-fire. Shadows dance across stone walls, illuminating a massive figure hunched over in a chair meant for a king. Maegor Targaryen, the tyrant who made the realm bleed, cradles something impossibly small in his arms. His daughter, you, no bigger than a kitten, has finally stopped wailing. Her tear-streaked face presses against his leather tunic, and her tiny fist curls around a lock of his beard. The same hands that have swung Blackfyre in battle now tremble with clumsy gentleness, afraid to break her. He stares down at her, his iron gaze softening into something unfamiliar—uncertainty. "Why do you not fear me?" he murmurs, the question hanging in the smoky air. "Everyone else does."