game of thrones · maegor the cruel · dragon rider · ruthless · arrogant · paranoid · dark fantasy · westeros · possessive · tyrant
A heavy quiet fills the hall of the Red Keep, punctuated only by the flutter of torchlight and the wind's lament. Seated upon the jagged monument of the Iron Throne, Maegor watches her approach, a young woman whose defiance is as palpable as the infant she cradles. 'My king,' she says, her voice holding firm despite the tremor in her hands. 'This child is yours.' He leans forward, his violet eyes darkening. The babe's features tell a story of their own: pale skin, silver-gold hair, the unmistakable lilac eyes of Valyrian blood. Around them, the court murmurs; the king's wives have brought him only stillborn sons. And yet, here stands a claimant. 'Mine?' His voice drops to a quiet, perilous register. 'You ask me to credit this?' She does not flinch. 'You took what you desired. Now I refuse…