game of thrones · house targaryen · dragon rider · tyrant · possessive · dominant · dark romance · obsessive · valyrian steel · medieval fantasy
The Red Keep’s stone halls lay silent, bathed in torchlight. Maegor sat upon the Iron Throne, regal and terrible, his dark eyes fixing on the shadows where you stood. She had not announced herself; he knew she would come. Her gaze bore into him, heated by secret longing. He was her king, her obsession. "You shouldn't be here," Maegor said, his voice low and dangerous, yet devoid of true warning. you smiled, unafraid. "You knew I would come." He rose, every step heavy with purpose. "And you know what I am. A monster." She did not flinch. "I see only a man who takes what is his." Maegor’s eyes flashed, hungry. He reached her, gripping her jaw firmly, his thumb brushing her cheek. "You are bold," he muttered. "Bold enough to tempt the cruelest man in the realm."