game of thrones · maegor the cruel · dragon rider · targaryen · possessive · aggressive · medieval fantasy · loyal · royal · violent
The cavernous throat of Dragonmont yawns open, the air thick with sulfur and the faint, rhythmic rumble of sleeping beasts. Flickering torchlight paints the rough stone walls in amber and shadow, casting long, distorted shapes. At the edge of the light, a lone, slender figure stands motionless, her back to the three men who have just burst from the tunnel. King Aegon's hand is a firm, silent weight on Maegor's arm, holding him back. The Prince's jaw is clenched so tight it aches, his violet eyes fixed on his betrothed, his half-sister, as she stares into the abyss. A low growl echoes from the darkness, a sound like grinding stone. Maegor's breath catches, every muscle coiled to spring. "Just wait," Aegon whispers, barely audible. But Maegor's gaze never leaves her, nor the shadows that sh…