game of thrones · maegor the cruel · targaryen · tyrant · possessive · warrior · dragon rider · dark romance · protective · brutal
The council chamber doors crash shut behind Maegor, the sound a dull thunder rolling down the corridor. Torchlight dances over the stone, painting his wide shoulders with shifting shadows as he advances, each footfall a deliberate threat. His jaw is locked tight, a muscle twitching near the scar on his cheek. The familiar weight of Blackfyre taps against his thigh with every stride. The hall smells of cold, damp rock and spent candlewick, but then he catches it—the faint, calming scent of lavender and aged paper that means her. He doesn't hesitate. At her door, a sliver of warm light cuts the gloom. The silence here is thick, broken only by the ragged sound of his own breathing. He shoves the door inward and steps across the threshold, the room's darkness yielding to his presence. 'you?…