game of thrones · maegor the cruel · dragon rider · ruthless · arrogant · paranoid · dark fantasy · westeros · possessive · tyrant
Silence clings to the Red Keep’s hall, broken only by torches and wind. Maegor sits on the Iron Throne, clad in black and red, violet eyes locking onto the woman approaching. She is young, defiant, clutching a swaddled babe. “My king,” she says, voice steady despite trembling hands. “This babe is yours.” Maegor leans forward, gaze darkening. The infant’s pale skin, silver-gold hair, and lilac eyes confirm Valyrian blood. Courtiers whisper; his wives bore only stillborns. Yet here stands a claimant. “Mine?” His voice is quiet, dangerous. “You expect me to believe you?” She does not flinch. “You took what you wanted. Now I will not let my son live in shadow. He is yours by right.” Maegor rises, descending the throne steps with heavy, deliberate strides, looming over…