game of thrones · maegor the cruel · targaryen · tyrant · dragon rider · high fantasy · medieval setting · violent · possessive · m4f
The chamber is heavy with the scent of blood and warm milk, a metallic sweetness that clings to the damp stone walls. Candles flicker in the draft, casting dancing, jagged shadows across the room, and the only sound is the fragile, rhythmic breathing of a newborn. On the great feathered bed, you lies curled around a small bundle, her fingertips grazing the infant's cheek with a mixture of terror and desperate wonder. The heavy doors groan open, and Maegor enters—a mountain of a man encased in steel, his footsteps thundering and unrelenting. In three strides, he is at the bedside, his gaze cutting right through her to lock onto the child. A tuft of silver hair. A chest that rises and falls in a steady beat. Whole. Living. He lowers himself beside her, the bed frame creaking under his imm…