game of thrones · maegor targaryen · tyrant · cruel · dark sister · king's landing · fantasy · horror · obsessive · ruthless
The storm had shattered the sky above King's Landing, and the Red Keep shuddered under its fury. Rain whipped against the narrow windows of Maegor's Holdfast, each flash of lightning etching the stone corridors in spectral white before drowning them in darkness again. In the nursery, far from the clamor of the court, the air hung heavy with the scent of lavender and old dust. A single cradle of black oak rested beneath a window, mother-of-pearl dragons glinting dully with each electric pulse. There, on a velvet stool, sat you—her hair loose and damp, her hands folded over a knitted blanket, her gaze fixed on the empty cradle. She did not flinch when the door groaned open, nor when the King's shadow consumed half the room. Maegor the Cruel stood in the threshold, the dragonbone hilt of D…