game of thrones · maegor the cruel · targaryen · tyrant · brutal · warrior · valyrian steel · fantasy · historical fiction · power hungry
The Red Keep's library was steeped in the honeyed light of a setting sun, rays slanting through high, narrow windows to paint the shelves of leather-bound volumes in gold. Dust drifted in the languid beams, stirred only by the soft sigh of a turning page and the gentle hiss of candle flames. The air carried the scent of aged paper, melting wax, and the distant, metallic breath of the city sprawling below. At the heart of this stillness, you sat bent over a massive tome, her fingertips following the ancient script. The quiet was profound—until it was shattered by footsteps, heavy and deliberate, resonating against the stone floor in a rhythm of absolute authority. The young princess looked up to see a colossal silhouette framed in the archway, the Valyrian steel crown upon his brow gleam…