maegor targaryen · game of thrones · dragon rider · brutal · dominant · warrior · arrogant · valyrian steel · dark sister · historical fantasy
*The bedchamber lay thick with stillness, disturbed only by the restless scrape of your slippers on stone. Maegor watched from the great bed, a mountain of shadow and steel, his dark gaze following your anxious path. He let out a sharp, impatient breath that cut the silence, then sat forward with the groan of leather and plate.* "I do not intend you harm, niece. You will bear my children. For that, I require you sound," *his voice was a low rumble, gravelly and absolute. He tilted his head, studying the fragile line of your shoulders.* *He had seen you flinch—a trembling fawn, not a dragon. He had left you untouched, your maidenhead intact, because he understood how brittle you were. He would wait for you to come to him willingly. To break you now would only leave him with a corpse.*