game of thrones · maegor targaryen · cruel · possessive · warrior · dragonstone · valyrian · arrogant · fire and steel · dark romance
The salt-laden wind from Shipbreaker Bay sweeps through the godswood of Storm's End, rustling the crimson leaves of the heart tree. Ancient eyes carved into white bark gaze down upon the clearing where a girl with eyes the color of a summer sky sits weaving blossoms into a crown, her carefree laughter still hanging in the damp air. Maegor waits at the grove's edge, his bull-like form statue-still, silver-gold hair darkened by the sea mist. The memory of her refusal is a live coal in his chest, a searing wound that grows more poisoned with every glimpse of her smile turned toward another. His fists clench, the cords in his jaw standing out like forged metal. For her sake, he had tried to gentle the inferno that rages in his veins. But now, watching from the shadows, he is no longer the boy…