#king maegor

[hisfavegirl]

Battle Of Desire - Maegor Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Summary : Maegor the Cruel. King of the Seven Kingdoms. Your brother. Your obsession. For years, you had watched him from the shadows. Admired him. Desired him. Even when others whispered of his brutality, his ruthlessness, you had seen him for what he truly was—a king who would not bend, would not yield. And more importantly, a king who deserved a queen unlike any other. And who better than you?

Word Count : 11.9k

Warning : Targcest (brother-sister), Sex before marriage, Rough Sex (more like animalistic to me), P in V, Dom!Reader, Dom!Maegor, Chocking.

Maegor Targaryen Masterlist.

House Of The Dragon Masterlist.

and also big thanks to @zaldritzosrose for let me using yours beautiful dividers 🫶🏻.

The Red Keep stood tall, its freshly renovated walls gleaming under the sun, a fortress of power and dominance—just like its ruler. You walked through its halls, the sound of your footsteps barely audible against the distant clang of swords. The scent of newly polished stone and burning torches lingered in the air, a reminder of the blood and sweat that had gone into rebuilding this stronghold. His stronghold.

As you stepped onto the training grounds, your gaze was immediately drawn to him. Maegor.

He stood in the center, his massive frame towering over the three guards he was sparring against. Sweat glistened on his bare chest, his muscles flexing with each powerful movement. His Valyrian steel sword moved like an extension of himself—swift, deadly, and precise. One guard lunged; Maegor sidestepped effortlessly, bringing his sword down in a brutal arc that sent the man sprawling onto the ground. The second barely had time to react before Maegor twisted, kicking him hard in the stomach, sending him crashing into the dirt. The third hesitated for a brief moment—that was his mistake. With a single strike, Maegor disarmed him, his sword clattering to the ground.

You tilted your head, watching him with quiet intensity. He is magnificent.

He was your brother, but the way your heart pounded at the sight of him was anything but familial. You had known for a long time now that your feelings for Maegor went beyond what they should. He was brutal, terrifying, and ruthless—but to you, he had always been something more.

The last guard scrambled to his feet and, despite knowing he had already lost, attempted one final attack. Maegor barely even looked as he caught the man’s wrist and twisted, forcing him to his knees with a pained grunt. With a smirk, Maegor finally released him, turning his gaze toward you.

His sharp, violet eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world around you faded.

"You've been standing there for some time," he remarked, his voice deep and rough from exertion. He took a step toward you, sword still in hand. "Enjoying the sight?"

You felt the heat rise to your cheeks, but you held his gaze, refusing to look away. "Should I not admire the strength of the King?"

A slow smirk curved his lips, a dangerous glint flashing in his eyes. "Admiration is one thing," he murmured, closing the distance between you. "But you—" He reached out, his fingers brushing a stray lock of silver hair from your face. "You look at me differently."

Your breath caught. Does he know?

"And how do I look at you, Maegor?" you challenged, your voice barely above a whisper.

His smirk widened as he leaned in just enough for you to catch the faint scent of steel and sweat. "Like you want me."

Your pulse quickened, but you refused to give him the satisfaction of a flustered reaction. Instead, you tilted your chin up, meeting his gaze with unwavering resolve. "And if I do?"

For a brief moment, something flickered in his expression—something dark, something hungry. Then, just as quickly, it was gone.

Maegor chuckled, stepping back slightly, though his eyes never left yours. "Careful, little sister. If you tempt a dragon, don’t be surprised when you get burned."

You inhaled sharply, watching as he turned and walked away, leaving you standing there with your heart hammering in your chest.

You had always known that Maegor was dangerous. But now, you knew something else.

He had noticed.

The corridors of the Red Keep were eerily quiet as you made your way to your mother’s chambers. The torches lining the stone walls flickered, casting long shadows as you walked. You knew she would be there—she rarely left her rooms these days, preferring the solitude of her own space over the constant tension of the royal court. Where once she had sat beside Maegor in the council chambers, her presence a silent yet commanding force, now she withdrew, as though the weight of everything had finally caught up to her.

As you stepped inside, the warmth of the fireplace greeted you. The scent of burning wood mixed with the faint aroma of herbal tea. Your mother, Visenya, sat in her high-backed chair, her posture as regal as ever despite the softness that age had begun to bring. She cradled a cup of tea in her hands, the steam rising gently, her sharp violet eyes flicking up to meet yours the moment you entered.

“You have been spending much time in the training yards,” she remarked, not as a question, but as a statement.

You exhaled softly, closing the door behind you before crossing the room to sit beside her. “I like watching him.”

Visenya’s expression did not change, but something in her eyes darkened. “I know.”

A silence settled between you, broken only by the distant crackling of the fire. She took another sip of her tea, then set the cup down on the small table beside her. When she finally turned to you fully, her gaze was unreadable, but her voice was firm.

“This obsession of yours with Maegor,” she said, “it must end.”

Your breath hitched slightly, but you masked your reaction well. Still, she knew. Of course, she did. Nothing ever escaped your mother’s notice.

“Why?” you asked, your voice steady despite the weight in your chest.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Because it is dangerous.”

You scoffed. “Maegor is dangerous to everyone.”

She shook her head. “That is not what I mean.”

Her gaze was piercing now, cutting through the silence like a blade. “You think I have not seen the way you look at him? The way you watch him as if he is the only thing that exists in this world? You are my daughter, and I know what is in your heart, even if you do not wish to admit it.”

You clenched your jaw, your hands tightening into fists in your lap. “And if I do admit it?”

Visenya’s expression did not waver. “Then you must let it go.”

Anger flared in your chest, but it was not just anger—it was frustration, desperation. “You want me to deny what I feel?”

“I want you to understand the reality of what you feel,” she corrected. “Maegor is a man who takes what he wants. If he has not yet taken you, it is because he chooses not to. You may think yourself different from his other wives, but you are not.”

Your nails dug into your palms. “I do not care about his other wives.”

“And yet they exist,” Visenya said sharply. “They are proof that Maegor’s heart is not yours alone to claim.”

You stood abruptly, your pulse pounding. “He is my brother.”

“He is your brother,” she echoed, rising to her feet with the same quiet grace she had always possessed. “And he is my son. Do you think I do not love him? Do you think I do not see what he is becoming?”

You swallowed hard, but she did not stop. “I forged him into what he is. I guided his hand toward power because that is what was necessary. But you—” she took a step closer, her gaze softening for the first time—“you do not need to be caught in the fire of his making.”

You felt your breath tremble as you exhaled, your resolve wavering under the weight of her words. “You do not understand.”

“I understand more than you think.” She reached out, cupping your face gently in her hands, her thumbs brushing against your cheeks as she studied you. “You are not the first Targaryen to burn for another. But love alone will not tame Maegor. He does not rule with love—he rules with fear. And fear is no foundation for what you seek.”

You closed your eyes, swallowing the ache that had lodged itself in your throat. “I do not seek to tame him.”

“Then what do you seek?”

You opened your eyes and met hers, the truth slipping from your lips before you could stop it.

Him.

Visenya sighed, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead before pulling away. “You will only hurt yourself,” she murmured.

But as she turned back to her chair, you knew that the words, though meant to dissuade you, would do no such thing.

Because no matter the warnings, no matter the risks—you had already made your choice.

The thought lingered in your mind long after you left your mother’s chambers.

She did not understand.

She thought she could dissuade you, that her warnings could cool the fire burning within you. But she had forgotten something—you are her daughter. You share the same blood, the same ruthlessness, the same hunger for power. And Maegor? He is the only one who has ever matched you in that.

You moved through the halls of the Red Keep, your steps slow but certain. The Keep had been reforged under Maegor’s rule—stronger, darker, impenetrable. Just like him. It stood as a testament to his will, towering over King’s Landing like a beast ready to devour all who opposed it.

It was fitting.

Because the man who ruled within it was no different.

As you entered the training yard once more, you saw him, just as you had earlier. Maegor stood in the center, surrounded by the fallen bodies of his sparring partners. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling beneath the blackened steel of his armor, his greatsword still dripping with sweat and dirt. He looked like a war god, a dragon in the shape of a man.

He turned at your approach, his violet eyes locking onto yours.

“You return,” he noted.

You tilted your head, amusement flickering in your gaze. “Should I not?”

Maegor scoffed, tossing his sword aside. “You should not be here at all.”

“And yet, here I am.”

A smirk tugged at his lips. He took a step closer, and so did you.

The others in the yard knew better than to remain. Guards, knights, even the few spectators quickly dispersed, leaving only the two of you beneath the setting sun.

Maegor studied you for a moment before speaking. “Our mother has words for you, I assume.”

You let out a soft laugh. “She does.”

“And?”

You shrugged. “She thinks I should forget you.”

His eyes darkened, something dangerous flashing across his face. “And will you?”

You smiled, slow and knowing, stepping closer until there was barely any space between you. “Do you think I will?”

He did not answer immediately. Instead, his gaze roamed over you—your face, your lips, the bare skin exposed at the collar of your gown. His fingers twitched at his sides, as though resisting the urge to reach for you.

He had always resisted.

But you could feel it—he was tired of resisting.

“You already have many wives,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper. “And none of them bear the blood of the dragon.”

He inhaled sharply.

You leaned closer, your lips just barely brushing against his ear. “You are the King, Maegor. You take what you want.”

His jaw clenched. “And what if I want you?”

You pulled back just enough to look him in the eye, a victorious smirk curling at the edges of your lips.

“Then take me.”

The words hung between you like an unspoken challenge.

For the first time, Maegor did not fight it. He did not hold back.

His hand shot out, grasping the back of your neck as he pulled you against him. His lips crashed onto yours, hard and claiming, as if he were sealing his decision in that very moment.

It was not soft. It was not gentle. It was possession. And you welcomed it.

You didn't care about the gazes of the servants and guards when Maegor carried you to his room, you didn't even care about the whispers that would stick to you the next day. he closed his bedroom door with his foot and threw you on the bed.

The heavy clang of Maegor’s armor hitting the stone floor echoed through the chamber. One by one, the blackened steel plates fell away, exposing the powerful, battle-hardened body beneath. His every movement was deliberate, his sharp violet eyes never leaving yours as he rid himself of the barriers between you.

Your breath was uneven, your pulse quickened. Not from fear—never fear—but from anticipation. From the raw energy crackling between you, something that had always been there, simmering beneath the surface.

And now, finally, there were no more obstacles.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching him as he removed the last piece of his armor. His chest rose and fell with deep, measured breaths. The torchlight cast flickering shadows over the harsh lines of his face, highlighting the controlled restraint in his expression.

“You knew this would happen,” he said, voice dark and thick with something unspoken.

You tilted your head, a slow, knowing smile curving your lips. “Of course.”

His jaw clenched, his eyes burning with something primal. “I should not want you.”

You arched a brow. “And yet, you do.”

A low growl rumbled in his chest. In two strides, he was upon you, his hands bracing on either side of you as he loomed over you on the bed. “You test me.”

You looked up at him, unafraid, reveling in the tension that coiled between you like a dragon ready to strike. “I know.”

His eyes flicked to your lips, then back to your eyes. “This will change everything.”

You reached up, your fingers tracing the sharp edge of his jaw, feeling the tension beneath his skin. “Good.”

That was all it took.

With a sound between a snarl and a groan, his mouth crashed onto yours, swallowing the triumphant laugh that bubbled in your throat. His kiss was nothing short of a conquest, demanding, claiming. But you met him with equal fervor, fingers tangling in his hair, nails digging into his shoulders as you pulled him down against you.

The weight of him was intoxicating. The heat of him burned through the layers of your gown, through your very skin.

His hands roamed your body, mapping every curve, every dip and rise as if he were learning you by touch alone. And then, with one sharp tug, he ripped the fabric apart, exposing you to the cool air of the chamber.

A gasp escaped you, but he did not give you time to recover. His lips moved from your mouth to your throat, teeth grazing your skin, marking you as his.

“You knew,” he murmured against your pulse, his breath hot and uneven.

You shivered beneath him. “Yes.”

His hand slid down your waist, gripping your hip, fingers pressing hard enough to bruise. “And you wanted this.”

You arched beneath him, pressing your body against his, daring him to do more. “Yes.”

His fingers tightened around your throat, not enough to hurt, but enough to remind you of the power he held—the power you had willingly walked into. Yet, you only smiled, tilting your head slightly, challenging him.

“You think you know me so well,” Maegor murmured, his voice rough, dangerous.

“I do.” Your voice was steady, unwavering.

His thumb traced the delicate line of your jaw, his grip firm, possessive. “Then you should know I do not take well to being manipulated.”

You laughed, soft and knowing. “Is that what you think this is? Manipulation?”

His eyes darkened, flickering with something unreadable. “You ask me to make you my queen.”

“I ask you to make me your equal.” You leaned closer, your breath warm against his lips. “You and I—we are the same, Maegor. We take what we want, regardless of who stands in our way. You rule through fear, through fire and blood. And I…” Your fingers ghosted over his bare chest, tracing the scars earned through years of battle. “I understand you in ways they never will.”

His grip on your throat flexed, his gaze searching yours. “They will never accept it.”

“They do not need to.” Your voice dropped to a whisper, intimate, coaxing. “We are dragons, Maegor. Let them burn.”

A slow smirk curved his lips, but it did not reach his eyes. “You seek power.”

“I seek you,” you corrected. “And I do not share what is mine.”

He studied you for a long moment, weighing your words, the certainty in your voice. Then, his grip loosened, his hand sliding to the back of your neck, fingers threading through your hair. He pulled you forward, forcing you to look up at him, forcing you to see the storm raging behind his violet eyes.

“You will regret this,” he said lowly.

You smiled, unshaken. “No, I won’t.”

His lips crashed against yours, fierce and demanding, as if he could make you take back your words, as if he could make you yield. But you kissed him back just as hard, your nails digging into his shoulders, drawing him closer.

The battle for dominance raged between you, but you both knew the truth—this was no conquest. This was fate.

When he finally pulled away, his breath was ragged, his pupils blown wide. He looked at you as if he had finally, truly seen you. And for once, Maegor the Cruel was at a loss for words.

Then, a slow, dangerous smile curved your lips. “Marry me, Maegor. Crown me, and let us rule together.”

His chest rose and fell with deep, measured breaths. Then, finally, he murmured, “If I take you, there is no turning back.”

You held his gaze, unwavering. “Then don’t hold back.”

And just like that, the last of his restraint shattered.

Maegor was not a man who lost control easily. He was a conqueror, a warrior, a king forged in fire and blood. But with you, it was different. You saw it in his eyes—the way they darkened, the way his breath hitched as your fingers tangled in his hair, the way his body tensed as if fighting a losing battle.

"You hold yourself back," you whispered, pulling his hair back just enough to expose the sharp lines of his jaw, his throat. "Why?"

His teeth clenched, his grip on your hips tightening as if to steady himself. "Because if I don't—"

"You will," you interrupted, your lips brushing against his ear, your voice nothing but a sultry murmur. "You will lose control, and you will give in to me."

Maegor growled, a deep, guttural sound that sent shivers down your spine. "You do not command me."

You smirked, leaning in closer, pressing your body against his. "Don’t I?"

And that was it—the final push, the last thread of restraint snapping. With a snarl, Maegor's hands gripped your thighs, and in one swift motion, he had you beneath him, his body pressing into yours with a force that stole the breath from your lungs. His lips crashed against yours, all heat and hunger, all dominance and possession.

"You play with fire," he rasped against your lips, his voice thick with barely restrained desire.

"I am fire," you countered, your fingers digging into his scalp, pulling his hair once more.

The growl that escaped him was primal, his muscles flexing as he slammed into you with a force that had you crying out in both pleasure and triumph. You had pushed him to the edge, and now he was falling—dragging you down with him.

His pace was punishing, his grip unrelenting, his mouth everywhere—your neck, your collarbone, your lips. He was branding you, marking you as his just as much as you had claimed him for yourself.

"You wanted me like this?" he growled, his voice hoarse as he thrust deeper, making your back arch off the bed. "You wanted to break me?"

You gasped, your nails raking down his back, feeling the ripple of his muscles beneath your touch. "No," you whispered breathlessly, your lips curling into a wicked smile. "I wanted to free you."

Maegor let out a sharp breath, his forehead pressing against yours as his movements grew rougher, more desperate. "Fuck," he muttered, his voice breaking into a groan as he buried himself deeper, forcing another cry from your lips.

You laughed between your moans, delighted by the fact that you had unraveled him so completely. "That’s the man I wanted," you murmured against his lips.

He pulled back just enough to meet your gaze, his eyes burning with something wild, something dangerous. "And you are mine," he declared, his voice a raw promise, a vow sealed in sweat and fire.

You pulled him down into another bruising kiss, your legs tightening around his waist, dragging him deeper, demanding more. "Then prove it," you challenged.

And gods, did he.

Maegor pinned your wrists above your head, his grip unrelenting, his body a force you could no longer control. The smirk on his lips was triumphant, cruel, his amusement unmistakable as he watched you tremble beneath him.

"Where is she now?" he taunted, his voice deep and laced with satisfaction. "The little viper who dared to play with dragons?"

You gasped, your back arching as he found that spot again, the one that made your body betray you completely. A whimper escaped your lips, and Maegor chuckled darkly, his gaze burning into yours.

"You were so bold before," he mused, leaning down, his lips brushing against your ear, his breath hot against your skin. "Teasing me, taunting me. But now?" He pressed a slow, deliberate thrust that had you biting back a cry. "Now you have nothing to say?"

Your hands strained against his grip, but it was useless—he was too strong, too unyielding. You wanted to fight back, to retake control, but he wasn't letting you. And that only made your desire burn hotter.

"Admit it," he murmured, his free hand trailing down your body, his touch deliberate, tormenting. "You wanted this. You wanted me to break you."

Your breath hitched, your body reacting before you could form a proper response. The way he moved, the way he owned you in this moment, left no room for anything but raw, helpless pleasure.

"You can't even deny it," he chuckled, his tongue flicking over the shell of your ear. "You're shaking for me, falling apart under my hands. Tell me, little dragon—" his teeth scraped against your throat, his next thrust making stars explode behind your eyes. "Do you still think you can control me?"

Your pride warred with the overwhelming sensations flooding your body. You wanted to deny him, to tell him you still held the upper hand—but the way he had you now, completely at his mercy, made it impossible.

Still, you forced yourself to smirk, even as your voice trembled. "Perhaps I let you win this time."

Maegor stilled, his grip tightening around your wrists, his eyes narrowing with a dangerous glint. "Let me?"

A flash of something dark and thrilling passed between you. His expression twisted into something feral, something ruthless.

"Then let's see," he growled, lowering his body over yours completely, pressing you into the mattress, "how much more you are willing to give me."

And then, with one punishing snap of his hips, he shattered you completely.

Maegor let out a deep, guttural growl when he felt your teeth sink into his flesh, his body tensing above you. His grip on your wrists tightened, but you didn’t care—you had marked him. You had left something on him, a reminder that you were not merely his to conquer, but that he belonged to you just as much.

A slow, satisfied smirk spread across your lips as you pulled back, admiring the red mark blooming on his neck. "There," you murmured, your voice thick with pleasure and triumph. "Now everyone will see that even the mighty Maegor the Cruel is claimed."

His breath was ragged, his silver hair damp with sweat as he loomed over you, his body still moving, still demanding. His free hand came up to grasp your chin, forcing you to look into his darkened eyes. There was something dangerous in them, something feral—but also something deeply satisfied.

"You think that makes me yours?" he rumbled, voice low and threatening, but you could hear the amusement laced within it.

You tilted your head despite his grip, your smirk widening. "Are you saying it doesn’t?"

Maegor bared his teeth in something between a grin and a snarl. "Foolish girl," he muttered before capturing your lips in a searing kiss, all teeth and dominance, as if trying to consume you. His thrust became rougher, more determined, his body pressing you deeper into the mattress, ensuring you had no escape.

Yet still, your gaze burned into his, your challenge unwavering. You knew him—you knew how to play this game, how to make him feel in ways he never had before.

"You are mine," you whispered when he pulled back for air, your breath mingling with his. "Whether you admit it or not, Maegor."

His eyes darkened further, something unreadable flickering in them. Then, suddenly, he released your wrists, his large hands gripping your waist instead.

"Then prove it," he growled.

Before you could even process his words, he had flipped your positions, your body now straddling his. The sudden shift made you gasp, your hands instinctively planting themselves on his chest for balance. His smirk returned as he watched you, his grip firm on your hips.

"Show me," he demanded. "Take what you claim as yours."

Your heart pounded, your breath unsteady—but you refused to hesitate. If he wanted proof, you would give it to him.

With a slow, deliberate roll of your hips, you set the pace, your movements confident, knowing exactly how to drive him mad. His hands trembled against your skin, his jaw clenched as he let you lead, his self-control hanging by a thread.

"You are mine," you echoed, watching as his breath hitched, his grip tightening. "And I will never share you."

Maegor’s growl vibrated through his chest, his restraint slipping. His hands guided your movements now, meeting your rhythm with his own. "Then you had best make sure no one can ever take me away from you."

And with that, the battle between you continued—one of fire and desire, of dominance and submission, of two dragons unwilling to be tamed by anything but each other.

You sat atop him, your silver hair cascading over your shoulders, your body moving with deliberate confidence. Maegor, beneath you, was a vision of restraint and frustration. His head was thrown back against the pillows, his jaw clenched, his hands fisting the sheets beneath him as he fought the primal urge to take what he wanted. What you had denied him.

His breathing was ragged, his powerful chest rising and falling as he struggled against the command you had given him. Do not touch me unless I allow it.

And Maegor had obeyed. But his patience was wearing thin.

Your fingers trailed up his arms, over the scars that marked his battles, before settling around his throat. Not tight enough to hurt—just enough to claim.

His eyes snapped open, locking onto yours. The violet depths burned with something dark, something dangerous, something hungry. His lips curled into a smirk, though his voice was rough when he spoke.

"Do you think you rule me, little dragon?" His words were mocking, but there was an edge of something deeper—curiosity, even admiration.

Your grip on his throat tightened slightly, your nails digging into his skin just enough to make him swallow hard. "I know I do," you whispered, leaning closer, your breath ghosting over his lips. "You are mine, Maegor. No one else."

A deep, guttural growl rumbled in his chest, his muscles tensing beneath you as if ready to throw you down and reclaim control. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. You had stripped him of that power tonight, and you both knew it.

"Arrogant," he murmured, though there was something like admiration in his voice. "Just like me."

You smiled, tilting your head slightly as you pressed a slow, taunting kiss to his jawline. "That is why we belong together."

His hands twitched, his restraint fraying at the edges. You could feel the battle raging within him—the war between his desire to dominate and the intoxicating thrill of surrendering to you, just this once.

"You tempt fate, sister," Maegor warned, his voice hoarse. "You do not know what I will do once I break free of your chains."

You pulled back slightly, meeting his gaze with unwavering certainty. "Then break free, Maegor."

His breath hitched. His body coiled beneath you like a dragon ready to strike. But still, he did not move.

"You see?" you whispered, pressing your lips just above his pulse point, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your touch. "Even you cannot deny me."

His head fell back against the pillows with a low, frustrated groan, his fingers digging into the sheets as he surrendered—completely.

And you smiled. Because tonight, Maegor the Cruel belonged to you.

Maegor’s grip on the sheet tightened for a brief moment before he let out a sharp exhale, his head falling back against the pillows. His jaw clenched, muscles tensing beneath your fingers as you moved with deliberate, confident grace, your hands now firmly planted on his broad shoulders.

"You’re playing a dangerous game," he growled, his voice hoarse, strained. His hands flexed at his sides as if resisting the urge to seize control.

You smirked, leaning down so that your lips brushed against the shell of his ear. "Am I?" you whispered, tilting your head slightly to press an open-mouthed kiss against his jawline, feeling the way his body trembled in response. "I think you’re just not used to someone telling you no."

His growl deepened, but still, he did not move to stop you. You could see it in his face—the battle between his need for control and his hunger for you. He was Maegor the Cruel, a man who took whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted. And yet, here he was, allowing you to dictate the pace, letting you be the one in control.

You rolled your hips once more, slow and unrelenting, watching as his fingers dug into the sheets. His nostrils flared, his darkened violet eyes locked onto yours with a mixture of frustration and unbearable desire.

"Do you hate this?" you teased, dragging your nails down his chest, watching the way his muscles rippled beneath your touch. "Being beneath me?"

His eyes flashed, his lips parting as if to snarl some sharp retort—but then you moved again, and whatever words had been forming in his throat died on his tongue.

A deep, shuddering breath escaped him, and for a moment, his grip on control faltered. His hands twitched toward your hips before he caught himself, fists clenching instead. You laughed—low and victorious.

"Poor, poor Maegor," you crooned mockingly, running your fingers through his damp silver hair. "Always so strong, so unyielding… And yet here you are, trembling beneath me."

His patience snapped.

In the blink of an eye, his hands shot up, seizing your wrists and flipping your positions before you could even gasp. Your back hit the bed, your head spinning. His body caged yours beneath him, his fingers wrapping around your throat as he loomed over you, his expression a mixture of fury and unrelenting hunger.

"You truly think you can tame me?" he rasped, his voice thick with something between fury and raw, unfiltered desire. "That you can toy with me without consequence?"

You smirked up at him, your breath uneven, but your confidence unshaken. "I know I can."

His expression was unreadable for a moment, his lips slightly parted, his breath heavy. Then—slowly—his mouth curved into something dangerous, something almost proud.

"You will regret this," he warned.

But even as he said it, his lips descended upon yours once more, and you knew—there was no regret to be had.

Maegor did not hold back. His grip on your hips was ironclad, his movements relentless, driving you further and further into a state of pure, uncontrollable sensation. Your nails clawed at his shoulders, your voice breaking into incoherent pleas as he continued to push you beyond your limits.

His dark violet eyes glowed with something triumphant, something wicked. A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he leaned down, his breath warm against your ear. "What happened to all that confidence, little one?" he taunted, his voice dripping with amusement. "Where is the fearless woman who thought she could tame me?"

You could barely breathe, let alone form a response. The intensity, the overwhelming sensation, it was too much. Your body betrayed you, trembling violently beneath him, your fingers clutching at him as if he was the only thing keeping you grounded.

Maegor chuckled darkly, his hand sliding up to cup your throat, his thumb brushing lazily over your racing pulse. "So fragile," he murmured mockingly, tilting his head as he observed you. "And yet, you truly believed you could best me?"

You whimpered, your eyes fluttering shut for a moment, only to snap open when he suddenly stilled.

A sharp gasp left your lips as you found yourself teetering on the very edge of oblivion, your entire body burning with frustration. Your hands fisted against his chest, your breath ragged. "Maegor—"

His smirk widened. "Ah, so you do know how to beg," he mused, his grip on your throat tightening ever so slightly, just enough to make your breath hitch. "Say it again."

Your pride warred with your desperation. You wanted to defy him, to prove that you were still in control, but gods, the way he held you, the way he owned you in this moment—it shattered any semblance of resistance you had left.

"Please," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

His eyes darkened, his smirk fading as something more primal took over. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours, his voice a low, possessive growl. "Good girl."

And then, without warning, he moved.

A scream tore from your throat as he pulled you under, into a world where nothing existed but him—the weight of his body, the heat of his skin, the sheer power he wielded over you so effortlessly. Your vision blurred, your mind spinning as wave after wave of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you utterly undone beneath him.

Maegor watched you with satisfaction, his expression one of absolute victory. He slowed, his hands running possessively down your trembling form, as if to savor the sight of you like this—wrecked, breathless, completely his.

"You will never win against me," he murmured, pressing a searing kiss to your parted lips. "No matter how much you fight it, no matter how much you pretend to have control."

He pulled back just enough to meet your dazed, unfocused gaze. His fingers brushed against your cheek, almost tenderly. "You belong to me," he whispered. "And I will make sure you never forget it."

Your body trembled violently, your senses consumed entirely by him. Maegor had torn away every last fragment of control you thought you had, leaving you at his mercy—breathless, shaking, and utterly undone beneath him.

Yet, despite the exhaustion, despite the way your limbs felt like they no longer belonged to you, something deep inside you refused to surrender. You were a dragon, just as much as he was. And dragons did not bow so easily.

As the final waves of pleasure coursed through you, your arms wrapped tightly around his broad shoulders, your nails digging into his skin, marking him just as he had marked you. "Maegor—" His name escaped your lips in a desperate cry, raw and unrestrained, and the sound of it seemed to push him over the edge.

A guttural growl tore from his throat as he gave in to his release, his entire body tensing above you. His grip on your hips tightened, his fingers pressing bruises into your soft flesh as he buried himself deep, claiming you in the most absolute way. His forehead pressed against yours, his breath ragged and uneven, his lips parting as if he wanted to say something—but words failed him in that moment.

For a long time, neither of you moved. The only sound in the dimly lit chamber was the heavy rise and fall of your breathing, the lingering echoes of your shared pleasure still hanging in the air. His weight pinned you to the bed, warm and solid, as if he had no intention of letting you go.

You felt his lips brush against your temple, an almost tender gesture, so different from the ruthless dominance he had just shown. His hand slid up your body, fingers tracing along your collarbone before cupping your face. He tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. His violet eyes were dark, still clouded with the remnants of desire—but beneath that, there was something else. Something deeper.

"You are mine," he murmured, his voice rough but certain. "And I will never let you go."

Your lips parted, but before you could respond, his mouth was on yours again, claiming, demanding. There was no space for hesitation, no room for doubt. He wanted you to understand that this—you and him—was not something temporary.

When he finally pulled away, his gaze swept over your face, as if committing every detail to memory. "Say it," he commanded, his voice softer now but no less insistent. "Say that you belong to me."

A part of you wanted to resist, to challenge him as you always had—but you knew the truth. You had belonged to him long before this night, long before either of you had dared to act on what had always simmered between you.

Your fingers traced over his jaw, your touch gentle, almost reverent. "I am yours, Maegor."

A slow, satisfied smirk curled his lips. "Good," he murmured, pressing another kiss to your lips, this one lingering, possessive. "Because I would burn the world to keep you."

The air in the chamber was thick with the scent of fire and sweat, of desire finally unleashed after years of restraint. You lay beneath Maegor, your body still tingling from the aftermath of what had just transpired between you. Your breaths mingled, your limbs tangled together, but what consumed you now was not just the physical pleasure—it was the undeniable truth that, after tonight, everything had changed.

Maegor had always been an enigma, a man of steel and fury, forged in the crucible of war and ambition. He had many wives, many women who vied for his attention, but none of them were you. None of them had shared his blood, his fire. None of them had challenged him the way you did.

And tonight, for the first time, you saw the shift in his gaze. He no longer looked at you as just his sister. He no longer saw the child who had once trailed after him in the halls of the Red Keep. No—now, he saw you, the woman, the dragon who had dared to claim him as her own.

Maegor ran a hand through his hair, his chest still rising and falling heavily as he leaned on his forearm above you. His violet eyes bore into yours, searching, filled with something unreadable. His fingers ghosted along your jaw, his thumb brushing against your lower lip. "You planned this, didn't you?" His voice was low, rough, but there was amusement beneath the accusation.

A slow, knowing smile curled at your lips. "I have always known what I wanted, Maegor," you whispered, tilting your head slightly. "And I do not lose."

His smirk widened, but there was something dangerous in the way he looked at you now. "Neither do I," he countered, gripping your chin and forcing you to hold his gaze. "Do you know what you have done?"

You reached up, trailing your fingers over the scars on his chest, feeling the heat of his skin beneath your touch. "I have taken what is mine."

A sharp breath left his lips, his grip tightening for just a moment before he let out a low chuckle. "So bold," he murmured, shaking his head. "So foolish."

"Foolish?" you echoed, arching a brow. "Or brave?"

His eyes darkened at that, and in one swift motion, he rolled you onto your back again, his weight pressing you into the furs beneath you. "Reckless," he corrected, his lips ghosting over yours. "You think you can have me all to yourself?"

Your nails dug into his back, a smirk playing on your lips. "I do not think, Maegor. I know."

He inhaled sharply, his fingers tangling into your hair as he pulled your head back, exposing your throat to his burning gaze. "You do not command me."

You let out a soft, breathless laugh. "And yet, here you are…"

A growl rumbled in his chest before his lips crashed against yours again, fierce and demanding. It was a battle neither of you would ever surrender.

As the night stretched on, as your bodies and wills clashed again and again, you knew one thing for certain—Maegor the Cruel had finally met his match.

You barely had time to register what was happening before you were yanked harshly from Maegor’s warmth. The lingering haze of exhaustion and pleasure still clung to your body, but the sudden forceful pull on your wrist had you snapping awake instantly.

A sharp gasp left your lips as you stumbled, barely catching yourself before falling completely. Your eyes darted to the woman standing before you, her grip on your arm firm, her expression twisted in anger.

It was Tyanna.

Her dark eyes burned with fury as she glared at you, her jaw clenched so tightly you could see the tension in her face. Behind her, you noticed the door to Maegor’s chamber was wide open, the hallway beyond it filled with the hushed murmurs of curious onlookers. Servants, guards, and even some of the other wives peered in, their faces a mix of shock, curiosity, and amusement.

You pulled your arm back forcefully, shaking off her grip as you straightened your posture. The silk sheets pooled around your waist, leaving your bare skin exposed to the cool morning air, but you refused to show any sign of weakness. You lifted your chin, meeting Tyanna’s glare with a calm, almost lazy defiance.

"You dare touch me?" you asked, your voice smooth and even, though there was an undeniable edge to it.

Tyanna scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest as she sneered down at you. "I should be the one asking you that," she spat, her eyes flicking toward Maegor’s still-sleeping form. "You think you can just crawl into his bed like some common whore and take what belongs to us?"

A slow smirk tugged at your lips. "I did not crawl, Tyanna," you corrected her coolly, brushing a strand of silver hair behind your ear. "I was carried."

Her face darkened in an instant.

"You think this is a game?" she hissed, stepping closer, her voice low and venomous. "You are nothing more than his latest amusement, a passing distraction."

You hummed, tilting your head. "A distraction that kept him entertained all night, it seems," you mused, glancing at the marks Maegor had left all over your body. "How unfortunate for you."

Tyanna’s hand shot out as if to slap you, but before she could strike, another hand caught her wrist mid-air.

A deep, warning growl filled the room.

Both of you froze.

Maegor.

His grip on Tyanna’s wrist was bruising, his expression a storm of barely contained rage as he loomed over the both of you. The golden morning light streamed in from the window, illuminating the sharp lines of his face, the unmistakable power in his form. His dark violet eyes flickered with fury as he turned his gaze to Tyanna.

"Touch her," he said, his voice a dangerous whisper, "and I will rip the flesh from your bones."

Tyanna stiffened, her eyes wide with shock. "Maegor—"

"Silence."

His command was absolute.

You could see her struggling to maintain her composure, but the raw authority in Maegor’s voice left no room for argument. He did not release her wrist immediately; instead, he tightened his grip just enough to make her wince before shoving her away.

She stumbled slightly, but recovered quickly, glaring at you one last time before turning on her heel and storming out of the room, her skirts billowing behind her.

The silence that followed was heavy.

Maegor exhaled sharply, rubbing his temples as if the mere presence of his wives exhausted him. He turned back to you, his gaze raking over your exposed form before settling on your face. His expression softened—only slightly, but you noticed it nonetheless.

"You have a habit of causing trouble," he muttered, reaching out to brush his fingers against your jaw.

You smirked, leaning into his touch. "And yet, you never seem to mind."

His lips quirked upward in amusement before he suddenly grabbed your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze fully.

"Let them be jealous," he murmured, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. "Let them burn with it."

Then, with a satisfied hum, he pulled you back into the bed, wrapping an arm around your waist possessively.

"You are mine now," he whispered against your skin. "And I do not share."

The laughter that filled the chamber died instantly as the heavy doors swung open.

You barely had time to react before the towering figure of Visenya Targaryen stood framed in the doorway, her presence alone enough to suck the warmth from the room.

She did not need to shout.

She did not need to brandish Dark Sister.

She did not need to utter a single word.

Her silence alone was a blade at your throat.

Maegor’s lips stilled against your skin, his body still covering yours protectively, but he did not move away. Instead, his grip on you tightened, his muscles tensing as he turned his head toward your mother. His violet eyes met hers, unreadable yet unwavering.

Visenya’s gaze was cold, calculating, as sharp as the sword she wielded. Her face betrayed no emotion, save for the slight furrow of her brow—the only indication of the storm that brewed within her.

A long silence stretched between the three of you.

Then, finally, she spoke.

“Get up.”

Her voice was not loud, but the weight of command in it was absolute.

You did not move.

Neither did Maegor.

His grip on you only tightened.

Visenya’s eyes darkened as they flicked between the two of you, her lips pressing into a thin line. She stepped forward, each movement precise, measured. When she spoke again, her tone was clipped, biting.

"Are you truly this foolish?" she asked, her gaze burning into you. "Or have you simply gone mad?"

Your fingers dug into Maegor’s arm as you sat up, but you did not look away. "Neither," you answered calmly. "I know exactly what I am doing."

Visenya’s expression remained unreadable, but you saw it—the flicker of something dangerous in her eyes.

"Do you?" she murmured.

You held her gaze.

"Yes."

Her lips curled, not quite into a smile—more like the ghost of something cruel.

"You believe you are above consequence," she mused, stepping closer. "You believe your blood, your name, will protect you from the fury of those who will see this as an affront."

You tilted your chin, refusing to cower before her.

"I believe," you said slowly, "that I am the only one worthy of him."

That made her pause.

Maegor let out a low chuckle, his grip on you loosening slightly as he leaned back against the headboard, watching the exchange with amusement. His mother’s gaze flickered to him, as if to gauge his reaction, before she exhaled sharply through her nose.

"Is that what you think?" Visenya asked, arching a brow.

"It is what I know," you corrected.

For the first time, her expression shifted. Not anger. Not disappointment.

Something closer to intrigue.

She studied you for a long moment, the firelight casting shadows across her sharp features. When she finally spoke again, her voice was quiet, but the edge remained.

"Rise," she ordered.

You hesitated only for a moment before Maegor moved first, pulling you up alongside him. The silk sheets pooled around your waist as you sat up fully, facing your mother without shame, without hesitation.

Visenya’s gaze flickered briefly to the marks along your skin—the proof of what had transpired between you and Maegor the night before.

She did not look surprised.

She did not look pleased, either.

Instead, she simply clasped her hands behind her back and said, "Dress yourself. We will speak in the Tower of the Hand."

Then, without another word, she turned and strode from the room, leaving the heavy doors open in her wake.

The moment she was gone, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding.

Maegor was still beside you, his hand tracing absent patterns along your thigh. You turned to him, finding his lips curved into something between amusement and satisfaction.

"She did not say no," he mused.

You smirked. "Not yet."

He chuckled, his hand tightening around your waist as he pulled you closer. "Then let us ensure she never gets the chance to."

You walked beside Maegor, your pace measured, your head held high, as if the weight of every whispered word around you did not exist.

The halls of the Red Keep were alive with murmurs—maids clutching their cleaning rags, their eyes wide with scandalous delight; courtiers pausing mid-step, turning to murmur behind their hands as their gazes flickered between you and Maegor.

They were not subtle.

Some did not even bother to whisper.

Yet you paid them no mind.

You had chosen your gown deliberately. The dark velvet fabric clung to your form, the heavy embroidery glinting under the torchlight. The neckline—low enough to reveal the bruises Maegor had left upon you—was not an accident, nor was the way you allowed your hair to tumble freely over your shoulders, rather than pinned in the modest fashion expected of noblewomen.

You wanted them to see.

You wanted them to talk.

And they would.

Maegor, at your side, was silent but imposing. His presence alone sent a chill through the air, making those in your path step aside without hesitation. His dark armor gleamed, his black cloak billowing behind him as he walked, his hand resting idly upon the pommel of his sword.

He did not look at you, nor did he acknowledge the stares—but you knew he was aware of them.

Just as you were.

And when you finally reached the doors to the chamber where Visenya awaited, he turned his head ever so slightly, his lips curving in the faintest of smirks.

He was enjoying this.

The tension.

The spectacle.

The knowledge that every person in this castle now knew that you belonged to him.

He reached for the doors and shoved them open without hesitation.

Inside, Visenya stood near the hearth, her hands clasped behind her back, her silver hair catching the firelight. She did not turn as you entered, but you could feel the weight of her presence, the sharpness of her mind already dissecting your every move before you even made them.

"You are bold," she said at last, her voice measured, calm. "Perhaps too bold."

You stepped forward, your chin lifted. "You did not summon us here to discuss my wardrobe."

That made her turn.

Her eyes—those same sharp, calculating violet eyes that you and Maegor shared—landed upon you first. They lingered on the marks upon your skin, the way your gown so purposefully displayed them.

Then, slowly, she shifted her gaze to Maegor.

"You should have more sense than this," she told him. "But perhaps I overestimated you."

Maegor did not flinch. He did not look away. "You overestimate your own authority, Mother, if you think to dictate whom I take to my bed."

Visenya exhaled sharply through her nose, her lips pressing into a thin line.

"This is not merely about a bed, and you know it." She turned back to you. "What is your endgame, child? What exactly do you hope to gain from this?"

You held her gaze.

"I do not hope for anything," you said simply. "I will have what is mine."

Her brows lifted ever so slightly. "And what, pray tell, do you believe is yours?"

You glanced at Maegor then, at the way he stood beside you, solid and unmoving, his hand still resting upon his sword as if daring anyone to challenge his right to be at your side.

Then, with the confidence that had been carved into your very bones, you turned back to Visenya and answered:

"The throne."

Silence.

For a long moment, there was nothing but the crackling of the fire.

Then—slowly, very slowly—Visenya smiled.

It was not a warm smile.

It was not a pleased smile.

It was sharp. Calculating.

Like the first flicker of a flame before it consumes everything in its path.

She exhaled softly and stepped closer, so close you could see the faint lines around her mouth, the weight of years spent shaping the destiny of House Targaryen.

"If you wish to wear a crown," she murmured, her voice almost gentle, "then you must be willing to bleed for it."

You did not blink.

You did not waver.

You smiled.

"Then let the bleeding begin."

Visenya's words hung in the air like a blade suspended by a thread.

"I should have agreed when your father wanted you to marry Aenys."

The room fell into a heavy silence.

Maegor’s jaw clenched so tightly you could hear the grind of his teeth. His hand, still resting upon the pommel of his sword, curled into a fist. The flickering firelight cast deep shadows upon his face, making him look even more menacing than usual.

You, however, could only stare at your mother, shock momentarily robbing you of speech.

"Aenys?" you echoed, as if you had misheard her.

Visenya did not waver. "Yes. He was our brother’s son, of pure Valyrian blood. A match that would have been appropriate—unlike this… madness."

Madness.

She was calling this madness.

She, of all people.

You almost laughed at the irony.

"You—" Maegor’s voice was a low, warning growl. "You would have given her to him?"

Visenya’s expression remained unreadable. "It would have been better than what she has chosen for herself."

A muscle twitched in Maegor’s jaw. His grip tightened upon his sword.

You saw the way his shoulders tensed, the way his nostrils flared—the barely restrained rage simmering beneath his skin.

And yet, beneath that rage…

There was something else.

Something dark and possessive and utterly furious.

You swallowed, regaining your voice. "You would have had me wed a man who would sooner hide behind his councilors than make a decision for himself?"

Visenya’s gaze flickered back to you. "Aenys was weak," she admitted. "But he was still our blood. And a union between you and him would have ensured—"

"Would have ensured that I spent my life shackled to a man unworthy of me." You lifted your chin, voice sharp. "Would have ensured that I wasted away in the shadows while he simpered before the lords of Westeros."

Visenya exhaled sharply. "And now you would shackle yourself to Maegor instead?"

At that, Maegor let out a low, mirthless chuckle. "No," he murmured darkly, stepping closer. "She does not shackle herself to me." His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your wrist in an iron grip. "She belongs to me."

A possessive declaration. A claim.

One that left no room for argument.

Your heartbeat quickened.

Visenya’s eyes darkened. "Belongs to you?" she repeated, her tone edged with something unreadable. "Is that what you believe?"

Maegor smirked, tilting his head. "I know it."

Visenya inhaled slowly, measuring his words—measuring you.

"And you?" she finally asked, her gaze settling upon you.

You met her stare without flinching.

"Yes."

A single word. Steady. Unshaken.

Visenya studied you for a long moment, and for the first time, something flickered in her gaze.

Not anger.

Not disappointment.

But recognition.

"You are a fool," she murmured. "Both of you."

You said nothing.

She sighed, running a hand over her temple as if you had given her a headache. "Do you even understand what you invite upon yourself?"

You held her gaze. "I understand more than you think."

Visenya shook her head. "You think you understand. But power is not given—it is taken. And once you take it, there is no going back."

You did not hesitate. "I do not intend to go back."

A beat of silence.

Then Visenya exhaled softly, something almost like resignation flickering across her face.

"You will regret this," she murmured. "Both of you will."

Maegor smirked. "Doubtful."

Visenya stared at him for a long moment, then at you. Then, without another word, she turned and strode toward the doors.

But just before she exited, she paused.

"You should pray," she said over her shoulder, "that you never find out why I wanted you to wed Aenys instead."

And then she was gone.

The room remained heavy with her words.

You turned to Maegor. "Why would she say that?"

He was still staring at the door, his jaw set.

Finally, he exhaled and looked at you.

"Because she knows," he murmured, stepping closer, his hands settling upon your waist. "That I do not intend to share what is mine."

His grip tightened.

His gaze burned.

And despite the warning still lingering in the air—

You smiled.

The doors to the council chamber swung open with a resounding thud, and the air inside shifted, thick with tension as you and Maegor stepped inside.

Every eye in the room turned to you.

The lords of the realm—the men who had served under your father, Aegon the Conqueror, and now bowed before his son—stared at you in stunned silence.

Their gazes flickered between you and Maegor, their shock evident, though none dared to speak first.

For they knew who you were.

You were not just Maegor’s sister.

You were the daughter of Aegon the Conqueror and Visenya Targaryen. A dragon born of dragons.

And now—now—you were something more.

Maegor strode to the head of the table, his presence commanding as he turned to face them all. His hand, large and possessive, rested upon your lower back, the warmth of his touch burning through the fabric of your gown.

He did not wait for anyone to find their voices.

"I have summoned you all here to inform you of a decision," he declared, his voice a low rumble of finality.

Your lips curled into a slow, satisfied smile as you watched them shift uncomfortably in their seats.

"The women who call themselves my wives," Maegor continued, his tone edged with disdain, "are no longer so. As of this moment, I renounce them. I annul every marriage."

A ripple of shock swept through the chamber. The lords exchanged uneasy glances, but none dared to interrupt.

You could hear the sharp inhale of Lord Rogar Baratheon, see the way Lord Tully's hands twitched upon the table. Even Lord Celtigar, one of the most loyal supporters of House Targaryen, looked taken aback.

But Maegor was not finished.

"In their place, I will take one wife."

He turned his head slightly, his gaze locking onto yours.

Your breath hitched.

Not because you were surprised—no, this was what you had wanted.

This was what you had orchestrated.

But because, in this moment, standing beside him as he declared to the realm that you were his—

You felt it.

You felt the power shift.

The inevitability of it.

"The woman I will wed," Maegor continued, his voice dark and possessive, "is my sister."

The chamber erupted.

"My king —!" Lord Baratheon shot to his feet, but he was silenced by the sound of Maegor unsheathing Blackfyre and slamming it against the table.

The great Valyrian steel blade sent goblets spilling over, the clang of metal against wood ringing through the air like a war drum.

The lords flinched.

You did not.

Maegor’s eyes burned as he surveyed them, daring them to challenge him.

"I am your king," he reminded them coldly. "You will not interrupt me again."

A thick silence fell over the room.

Even Lord Baratheon, still standing, hesitated before slowly lowering himself back into his seat.

Satisfied, Maegor continued.

"There is no woman in the realm more worthy of my throne than my own blood," he declared. "No one more fit to rule at my side than my own sister. A dragon belongs with a dragon."

Your heart pounded as his words wrapped around you, solidifying the reality of what you had fought for.

The lords were stunned into silence, their minds scrambling to grasp what this meant—what you meant.

And then, finally, someone found their voice.

"Your Grace," Lord Tully said hesitantly, his face pale. "The Faith—"

Maegor turned his burning gaze onto him. "The Faith will bend. Or I will break them."

A chill swept through the room.

Everyone knew what that meant.

The memories of the last Faith uprising were still fresh—bodies impaled upon spikes, the Great Sept desecrated, the streets of King's Landing running red with blood.

No one wanted to challenge Maegor on this.

No one could.

And so, they remained silent.

You smiled.

Because in this moment—

You had won.

Maegor turned to you, his dark gaze locking onto yours, his lips curling into a smirk.

"You will be my wife," he said, his voice lower now, meant only for you. "And you will rule at my side."

Your hand reached up, fingers brushing his jawline, tilting his face toward yours.

"And I will never share you," you whispered back, your eyes alight with triumph.

Maegor exhaled a slow, deep chuckle, his grip tightening upon you.

"Then it seems," he murmured, "we understand each other perfectly."

As the heavy doors of the council chamber slammed shut, the lingering echoes of Maegor’s decree still clung to the air like a storm waiting to break. The lords had left in silence, their faces pale, their minds racing with the weight of what had just transpired.

But you—

You remained.

Alone with him.

Maegor leaned back in his chair, the great seat carved for kings, his fingers drumming against the armrest. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes—those dark, molten pools—were fixed upon you, watching, waiting.

A slow smile curled upon your lips.

With deliberate steps, you approached the long table that had been the site of so many political discussions, so many power struggles—where the realm had just learned that you had triumphed over them all.

You placed one hand on the polished wood and then, with a graceful ease, lifted yourself onto the table, sitting directly in front of him, your legs on either side of his.

His gaze darkened.

Maegor’s hands found your waist instantly, his grip firm, possessive, pulling you closer until there was nothing but breath and heat between you.

Your arms slid around his neck, fingers threading into the thick silver strands of his hair.

"That went well," you mused, tilting your head, your voice laced with amusement. "They did not dare to argue for long."

Maegor let out a low chuckle, one of satisfaction. "Because they fear me," he murmured against your skin, his lips grazing the sensitive point of your jaw. "As they should."

You hummed in agreement, your nails lightly scraping against the back of his neck, sending a shiver down his spine.

"And now," you whispered, leaning in until your lips nearly brushed his, "they will fear me as well."

Maegor’s grip tightened.

"Good," he rumbled. "Let them."

His hands slid down, rough palms pressing against your thighs before gripping your hips, pulling you forward until you were flush against him.

"You did not even hesitate," he said, his breath warm against your lips. "Did you ever?"

You laughed softly, brushing your nose against his.

"Never," you admitted. "You are mine, Maegor. And I do not share."

His pupils dilated at your words, a growl of approval escaping him.

"Neither do I."

Then his lips crashed against yours, and you let yourself be claimed—just as you had claimed him.

The fire between you and Maegor was not one that could be tamed. It was raw, untamed, a hunger that no one else could ever understand.

His lips crashed against yours once more, neither of you willing to yield, both fighting for dominance in a battle that neither truly wanted to win. His hand slid up your back, fingers pressing into your spine as he pulled you impossibly closer. The warmth of his body, the sheer power of him, sent a shiver down your spine.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging hard, making him groan against your mouth. It was a sound of frustration and pleasure all at once. His hands tightened on your waist, his grip possessive, almost punishing.

"Still trying to control me, little dragon?" he murmured against your lips, his breath hot, teasing.

You smirked, your nails scraping against the back of his neck. "You belong to me, Maegor. Do you doubt it?"

He let out a low chuckle, one filled with dark amusement. "I do not doubt it," he admitted, his lips trailing along your jawline, down to the curve of your neck. He bit down—not enough to hurt, but enough to make you gasp. "But you belong to me just the same."

Your head tilted back as his mouth worked its way lower, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your throat. Your heartbeat pounded against your ribs, a rhythm that matched the fire burning in your veins.

Your legs tightened around his waist, your body molding against his as his hands roamed, his touch leaving trails of heat wherever it landed. You could feel his breath against your collarbone, feel the way he fought to keep his control intact.

"You are holding back," you whispered, your fingers threading through his silver hair, tugging once more. "Why?"

Maegor growled, his hands gripping your waist harder. "You test me," he murmured, his lips pressing against your skin, his breath warm, teasing. "You have always tested me."

"And you have always loved it."

His eyes met yours then, dark and filled with something deeper than mere desire.

"Yes," he admitted, his voice low, dangerous. "I have."

Then, with a sudden movement, he lifted you off the table with ease, carrying you as if you weighed nothing. You gasped, your arms tightening around his neck as he turned, stalking toward his chambers with a determination that sent a thrill down your spine.

"Where are we going?" you asked, though you already knew the answer.

He smirked, his grip tightening on you. "To make sure the entire Red Keep knows exactly who you belong to."

Maegor was never a patient man. You knew that better than anyone. And yet, as you lay beneath him, watching his fingers fumble in his urgency to rid himself of his armor, you couldn’t help but laugh.

His head snapped up at the sound, eyes narrowing. “You find something amusing?” His voice was a growl, low and dangerous, but there was a glint in his eye—a flicker of something that was reserved only for you.

You reached up, brushing a strand of damp silver hair away from his forehead. “Only that the mighty Maegor the Cruel is in such a hurry,” you teased, your fingers grazing along his jawline. “Where is your control, brother?”

His hands found your wrists before you could move away, pinning them to the mattress on either side of your head. The sudden force made you gasp, your amusement flickering into something else—something deeper, darker.

“My control?” He leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. “It is you who shatters it every time.”

You shivered as his lips brushed against your jaw, trailing down to your throat. His teeth grazed the sensitive skin, his grip on your wrists tightening as your body arched beneath him. He was fire—burning, all-consuming—and you had always been drawn to the flames.

“I should make you beg,” he murmured against your skin, his voice rough with restraint.

You tilted your head, a smirk curving your lips even as your pulse raced. “And yet, here you are, trembling with need.”

Maegor let out a low growl, his fingers curling around the fabric of your dress. With one sharp tug, the fine material tore, slipping from your shoulders like silk.

“Careful, brother,” you purred, your breath hitching as his lips found the curve of your collarbone. “You might just lose yourself.”

His golden eyes met yours, dark and smoldering. “I already have.”

And then, with a force that stole the breath from your lungs, he claimed you—wholly, utterly, as if he had been waiting for this moment his entire life.

Maegor moved with a brutal, unrelenting pace, forcing a sharp gasp from your lips. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, holding on as he claimed you with the same ruthless determination he wielded in battle.

His grip on your hips tightened, ensuring you had nowhere to go—not that you wanted to escape. Your legs wrapped securely around his waist, locking him in place. The motion made him groan, his head falling to the crook of your neck.

“Fucking,” he muttered under his breath, his voice rough, strained.

You couldn’t help but laugh, though it was breathless, tinged with the heat coursing through your veins. “Losing control already, brother?”

His teeth found your throat in response, biting just hard enough to leave a mark before soothing the sting with his tongue. You shivered at the sensation, fingers tangling in his hair as he moved.

“You provoke me,” he growled, his breath hot against your skin. “Every damn time.”

You tilted your head, giving him better access, enjoying the way he took exactly what he wanted. “And yet, you always give in.”

Maegor pulled back just enough to meet your gaze. His eyes were dark, filled with something that sent a shiver down your spine. “You will be mine.”

You smirked, running your nails down his back, delighting in the way his muscles tensed beneath your touch. “I already am.”

The words sent him into a frenzy, his movements growing more intense, more desperate. His control—so carefully maintained in every other aspect of his life—was shattered here, with you.

And gods, you loved knowing that no one else could ever break him the way you did.

Maegor straightened, pulling your hips flush against him with a sudden, forceful grip that tore a sharp cry from your lips. He laughed—low, dark, victorious—as he held you there, refusing to let you pull away even an inch.

"Look at me," he commanded, fingers grasping your chin, forcing your gaze to meet his.

Your breath hitched, body trembling, but you refused to surrender so easily. Even as he held you, as he dominated you, you still wanted to push him, still wanted to fight.

"You think you’ve won?" you taunted, voice uneven but defiant.

His grip on your chin tightened ever so slightly, his smirk widening. "I know I have."

You clenched your jaw, unwilling to give him the satisfaction of your submission. But Maegor knew you too well—he could see the struggle, the way your body reacted despite your mind’s resistance.

"You fight me," he murmured, eyes gleaming with something dangerous, something hungry. "But you want this. You always do."

Your nails dug into his arms, your chest rising and falling with every rapid breath. "And you need me to want it," you shot back, voice shaking. "Because without me, you're nothing."

His expression darkened, but instead of anger, it was something far more dangerous—something primal. His hold on you became firmer, possessive.

"You think you control me?" he whispered, his breath hot against your lips. "You think you own me?"

You smirked, despite the way your body quivered in his grasp. "I know I do."

That was his breaking point. With a low growl, he moved—fast, overpowering—his mouth crashing against yours as he silenced your defiance the only way he knew how. You gasped, but he swallowed the sound, deepening the kiss, pouring every ounce of his dominance into it.

Maegor would never yield. He would never bow. But neither would you.

And that was why he would always come back to you.

Maegor’s roar of anger echoed through the chamber as the heavy wooden doors burst open, slamming against the stone walls with a force that sent a gust of cold air rushing into the room.

You barely had the presence of mind to register what had happened before laughter bubbled up from your lips. It was sharp, mocking, delighted, because standing in the doorway, frozen in shock and horror, were the women who had once called themselves his wives.

Or rather, his former wives.

Tyanna’s dark eyes were wide, disbelief flashing across her sharp features as she clutched the doorframe. Jeyne’s hand covered her mouth, her soft, delicate face drained of all color. And poor Ceryse— hands curled into fists, trembling as she stared at you, at him, at what the two of you had become.

"What," Maegor snarled, his voice like rolling thunder, "do you think you’re doing?"

The weight of his fury struck them hard. Even Tyanna, who had always been the boldest, flinched under the intensity of his glare.

"We—" Jeyne tried to speak, but her voice cracked. She swallowed thickly and straightened, eyes flickering between you and the man who now held you so possessively. "We heard rumors, Maegor. That you—that she—"

Her words failed her, but the meaning was clear enough. They had hoped, perhaps, that the whispers had been false. That the court had exaggerated. That there was no way their husband—their king—could be found in such a compromising position with his own sister.

But the truth was laid bare before them.

You, tangled in Maegor’s embrace, your skin still flushed, your body still trembling from the intensity of your shared pleasure. Him, his arm wrapped around you, holding you to him like a claim that no one could challenge. The scent of sweat and passion still lingered in the air, thick and undeniable.

You tilted your head back against Maegor’s shoulder, looking at them through half-lidded eyes, utterly unbothered. "Now you come running?" you mused, amusement dripping from every word. "How pathetic."

Ceryse took a step forward, her body tense with rage. "You’re his sister!" she spat, voice shaking. "This is—this is madness!"

You sighed, rolling your eyes. "Is it? Because to me, it looks a lot like destiny."

"You’ve bewitched him," Jeyne whispered, staring at you with something close to fear.

At that, Maegor laughed. It was a low, cruel sound, reverberating through his chest as he held you tighter. "Do you take me for a fool, Jeyne? You think I do not choose this?" His voice dropped into something even darker. "You think I would let anyone—even her—command me?"

Tyanna’s lips parted slightly, a flicker of something unreadable flashing across her face. But Ceryse wasn’t so easily silenced.

"You promised me," she hissed, stepping forward again. "You promised me you would honor our vows."

Maegor’s expression was unreadable, but you felt the tension in his body shift—something hard, something dangerous. "And now," he said coldly, "I break them."

Ceryse let out a sharp, wounded breath.

Jeyne was the first to recover, her gaze dropping to the floor as she took an unsteady step back. "So it’s true," she murmured. "You mean to cast us aside."

"I already have," Maegor corrected, his voice void of any remorse.

Tyanna was silent. But the way her hands curled into her skirts, the way her gaze darted to yours, full of dark calculation, told you that she was already plotting her next move.

You, however, had no such worries.

Instead, you merely smirked, turning your face up to look at Maegor, your fingers tracing absent patterns over his bare chest. "Tell me, my love," you purred, voice dripping with mockery, "shall I have them thrown out? Or shall we let them stay and watch?"

Ceryse recoiled as if struck, and Jeyne let out a horrified gasp.

Maegor exhaled sharply through his nose, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. He liked your cruelty. He liked that you enjoyed this as much as he did.

But he was not a man of patience.

"Get out," he growled, his tone brooking no argument.

Jeyne was the first to obey, turning on her heel and all but fleeing from the room. Ceryse lingered for just a moment longer, her hands trembling, her blue eyes filled with unshed tears—then she turned sharply and stormed after her.

Tyanna, however, was different. She lingered, her dark gaze locking with yours, a knowing smirk playing at her lips.

"You may have him now," she murmured, voice slow, measured. "But we shall see how long you can keep him."

And then, without another word, she slipped away into the shadows, disappearing into the halls beyond.

Silence fell over the room.

Then Maegor sighed, pulling you against him once more, burying his face in your hair. "Fools," he muttered darkly. "All of them."

You laughed softly, nuzzling into his warmth. "Let them talk," you whispered. "Let them watch."

Maegor’s grip on you tightened, his lips brushing against your ear. "Let them fear."

And they would.

Because after tonight, the world would know—Maegor the Cruel did not love, did not belong to anyone.

But you… you were the exception.

Tag List : @danytar @hangmanscoming @julessworldd @yazzzmints @callsignwidow @giirlinblack @searatarg @vaelry

[luv-lock]

⸻ ᴀ ʟ ᴡ ᴀ ʏ ꜱ ᴍ ɪ ɴ ᴇ ⸻

Pairing: Dark Maegor I Targaryen x Fem Reader

Summary: You were always his. From the moment you were born. And it's going to stay that way, whatever you like it or not.

Warning: Targcest, Graphic depictions of violence, Non con, Maegor himself is a warning.

Notes: English is not my first language. Art belong to dalberadiata. Hope you enjoy!

Maegor kicked a rock with all the strength his young body could muster, the jagged stone skittering across the ground and disappearing into the brush. His chest heaved with frustration, his fists clenched at his sides, and his face contorted in a mask of anger.

But no matter how much he trained, no matter how hard he fought, his father’s gaze always passed over him. Like he wasn’t even there.

His foot slammed into another rock, as he ground his teeth in fury. He wanted to be king. He would be king. One day, they would all see—his father, his brother—all of them would see.

“Boo!”

A voice, sweet and sudden, pulled him from his thoughts. His body stiffened as he turned, already prepared to strike, but it was only her. His sister, always sneaking up on him, always playing her games. She popped out from behind a tree, her eyes sparkling with mischief, a playful grin on her lips.

“Did I scare you, Maegor?” she teased, laughing softly as she plopped herself down beside him on the grass without waiting for a response.

He didn’t flinch, didn’t smile. Of course, he wasn’t scared. His hands flexed at his sides, still shaking with the remnants of his anger. He wasn’t in the mood for her games. Not today.

But she didn’t seem to notice. She never did. Instead, she sat beside him, her fingers absentmindedly plucking at the flowers that dotted the ground. She hummed softly, her hands busy weaving stems together as if there wasn’t a care in the world.

“I’ll be king one day,” he muttered, his voice low, angry. His fists tightened as he stared ahead, his vision still blurry with unshed tears. “You’ll see. I’ll be a great king. Someone important. Stronger than father. Stronger than anyone.”

She nodded, but he could tell she wasn’t listening. She never really listened when he talked about his plans. She was too busy with her flowers, too lost in her own world of pretty things and laughter. He frowned, watching as she twisted the stems in her delicate hands, her smile never faltering.

“What are you doing?” he snapped, his frustration bubbling up again.

She looked up at him then, her eyes wide, as if his anger didn’t bother her at all. Her smile only grew, and she held up the thing she had been working on. “Done!” she announced, her voice soft and sweet, like the sound of a gentle breeze. She leaned over and placed it on his head—a crown of flowers, woven with care, resting lopsided on his dark hair.

Maegor blinked, confused, his anger momentarily forgotten. He reached up to touch the crown, his brows furrowing as he tried to understand what she had done.

“What is this?”

She smiled at him, that same sweet, soft smile that always made something in his chest ache. “Even if you don’t become king, you’re still my king, Maegor.” Her voice was full of warmth, full of love. “Always.”

He stared at her, the confusion in his eyes deepening. She was always like this—so full of life, so bright. Too bright for someone like him. Too soft for a world as harsh as theirs. He didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to respond.

But now, when he looked at her, the only thing that remained was death.

Her body was cold in his arms, a shell of the girl she used to be. Her eyes, once full of light, now stared blankly ahead, her mouth silent as always. But that was alright. She didn’t need to speak. She didn’t need to smile.

He still loved her.

Even like this.

She was dressed in beautiful silk, her hair brushed and perfect, her lips still stained with the remnants of the last kiss he’d given her earlier. She looked like a doll. Fragile. Beautiful. Untouched. He dragged his hand down her neck, savoring the coldness of her skin, feeling the shiver of pleasure that ran through him.

But the silk? That was a pity. He was going to rip that apart anyway.

He pulled her into his lap, her body limp and pliant, her head lolling to the side as he pressed his lips to her neck. He bit down, hard, savoring the taste of her skin, his teeth sinking in deep enough to draw blood. His hand slid between her legs, fingers pushing against her cunt, trying to get her wet. She didn’t move, didn’t react, but he didn’t care. She would be ready for him. She had to be.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered into her skin, his voice dark and rough as he kissed along her neck, his bites growing harder, more savage. “You’ll give me a son. A true son. Something none of those useless cunts could do.” His fingers moved faster, harder, forcing her body to respond. “We’ll name him Aegon. After father. What do you think?”

He pulled back, his eyes gleaming as he looked at her face. Her tears were falling now, silent as always, sliding down her cheeks like the rain.

Oh, right. He had cut her tongue out.

He laughed then, a deep, guttural sound that echoed in the room. How could he have forgotten? She had screamed, hadn’t she? Begged him to stop, to leave her alone. She didn’t want to be his wife. She didn’t want him. But that hadn’t mattered. Not to him. He had made sure she couldn’t refuse him ever again.

He wiped her tears with his thumb, pushing it into her mouth as he did. “It’s alright,” he whispered, his voice soft, mocking. “I love you still. I like you more like this.”

Then he kissed her, hard and rough, his mouth devouring hers as his hand gripped her neck, holding her in place. She didn’t kiss back, didn’t move, but he didn’t care. He didn’t need her to.

He shoved himself inside her, his thrusts brutal, each one harder than the last. Her body didn’t fight him, didn’t resist. She took him in silence, her tears falling faster now, her eyes empty as they stared at the ceiling. But Maegor didn’t stop. He pounded into her, growling with each thrust, determined to make her his in every possible way.

“You're mine,” he snarled, his voice low and dangerous as he fucked her harder. “Always have been and always will be.”

She didn’t respond. She never did. But that was fine.

When he was done, when her body was limp and unconscious beneath him, he pulled out, only to push his seed back inside her, forcing it deeper, making sure she would carry it.

“You’ll be a mother,” he whispered, his hand pressing against her stomach, possessive. “The mother of my child.”

His.

Always his.

@ʀᴏᴛᴛᴇɴꜰʏʀᴇ 2024. ᴅᴏɴ'ᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ᴛʀᴀɴꜱʟᴀᴛᴇ ᴏʀ ᴜꜱᴇ ᴀɴʏ ��ꜰ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋꜱ ʜᴇʀᴇ ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴏᴛʜᴇʀ ᴡᴇʙꜱɪᴛᴇꜱ

[ashblooddragons]

Just As Bad As You Are

Request made by @athzhowakar

Summary: When a worderful lay with your husband leads to you giving him good news, but what if he pieces together your dark secret, the only thing you would ever keep from your dear older brother.

Word count: 1377

Warnings: smut, p in v, slight choking, mentions of miscarriges, mentions of poisioning, toxic relationship, Targcest, tell me if I missed anything

I moan as Maegor fucks me from behind, there isn’t a night he doesn’t take me. For why should he go to his others when they can’t give him children and I’ve already given him three?

“Maegor.” I moan out as he grabs my hair making me arch my back.

“I’m gonna put another babe in that belly of yours, you’ve been empty of my seed for too long.” he groans out as he grinds his hips just right, that he makes me see stars. 

I can’t help but laugh, for ever since the Maesters said I was fit for childbearing again there hasn’t been a morning or night that his seed wasn’t working its way inside me. “Do you truly think with how often you take me that I am not with child yet?” I say before another moan leaves my throat when his palm lands on my rear. 

“Every time I think I fuck that brat out of you, then it rears its head begging to be taught a lesson.” He says before pulling out and flipping me so I lay on my back only to slam back into me with more force and vigor than before. 

“What, no snarky remark, no comment on how I love when you’re a brat? He teases as he takes my right leg and puts over his shoulder so we both feel him go deeper. 

I can’t even speak, I just grip the hair on the back of his neck as he ruts into me. I know if any maid, courtier, or gods forbid one of his other fucking wives, walked by they would only hear the sound of skin hitting his and obscene moans. 

“Don’t stop, please don’t stop.” I beg as I feel my peak just along the horizon. 

“Go on, cum on my cock you little slut.” He demands as he reaches up to grip my throat choking me until he feels my cunt spasm around his cock as I milk him for all he’s worth.

“Fuck.” He groans out as his seed fills me before he lays against my chest.

We lay there as we both come down from our highs. Me rubbing his back tracing all his scars like constellations, and him kissing my neck and moving his hands up and down my thighs adn ribs. 

It’s these moments I feel the safest, not when I have two guards following me, or when I stand next to my darling golden Gaelithox. No, I feel the safest when I’m in the arms of the man I love, and who loves me.

“I wasn’t being a brat, the Maesters told me last night I’m with child again.” I whisper before playfully biting his ear.

His look is priceless when he leans back looking down at me as he uses his arms to hold himself up. “Do not jest.” He says with that tone that makes even men tremble, but not me.

I take his shocked state as a chance to take control and flip us so I’m on top. “I do not jest, my moon blood is two moons late.” I say as I pin his arms next to his head. We both know if he wanted to he could easily get out of my grip, but we also both know he doesn’t want to.

With those words I climb off his lap and take my robe and wrap it around me as I go to tell the guard that I am in need of a bath. As I wait I decide to brush my hair before my bath as it doesn’t need washed but it most definitely needs brushed after our escapades. 

I notice Maegor is lost in thought but assume it must be because of a council meeting, he pulls on his breaches as my Maids come in with hot water for my bath. I sigh in relief as I sink into the heat of the bath waving my Maids away. “Leave me.” 

I start to scrub my arms with pomegranate seeds not noticing Maegor taking a stool and sitting behind me. 

“You’ve never lost a babe.” His gruff voice fills my ears startling me as I turn to look up at him.

“No I haven’t?” I look at him confused, fighting the fear that fills my belly that he has figured it out. 

He only moves to take some pomegranate and my other arm starting to scrub the coarse seeds into my skin. I watch as his jaw tenses and releases and I know he knows when his eyes look into mine. 

“And yet all of my other wives have.” He says his eyes boring into mine but I will not show fear, I don’t regret what I did. “I thought Tyanna, though I suspect I was right with her. But there were many lost, too many she couldn’t have known about that left their mothers wombs too soon. My Council said you must have something to do with it, I didn’t want to believe them, but now I wonder if I should have.” He says gripping my arm to the point tears come to my eyes but I refuse to let them fall.

 “Do you want me to admit something? Perhaps make the accusation.” I hiss out as I grit my teeth. 

I watch as his nostrils flare in rage, I know he doesn’t want to accuse me, I’m his sweet little sister, but he also knows I won’t admit anything if he doesn’t accuse me first. 

“Did you force them to miscarry? Did you poison my other wives?” He demands with a scowl.

“Yes.” 

I watch as his face morphes into shock and rage. I know he must have been praying I would no, that I would deny these allegations until my last breath, but I won’t for I don’t regret what I did.

“Why?” He asks in a calm voice that I know is hiding a inferno of rage.

“Your my brother, we came from the same womb, and yet I had to share you with a barren Hightower, a whore from across the seas, and three more courtly whores. You didn’t even wed me properly, you took me at the same time as you did those two other bitches looking for any needy hound. I knew what I had to do, Mother didn’t teach me those dark ways for nothing, she knew just as I do now. That you are weak, you will take any lady or whore to your bed and call her wife, that all a man has to do is have his pretty daughter suck your cock and then he is a man to be jealous of. But I am not some Lady of court, nor am I a whore, I am a dragon and a dragon must find another of their kind or else their embers will cease to burn. So I poisoned your stupid little wives, and I made sure Tyanna didn’t touch my womb for I would be the only one to bear your children. I don’t regret it, I never would, but now you have decision to make.” I say breathless after I let all the darkness I had kept hidden from him for so long out of my heart and into the air so only us and the gods to hear and judge.

He only stares at me, tears brimming his eyes before he looks down, shaking his head. “And what decision is that?” He asks force breaking from sheer shock.

“Will you execute me, charge me for my crimes? Or will you keep this a secret that we take our graves letting no man judge me, only the gods.” I say reaching over the tub to take his hands in mine. 

I smile when I feel his hands squeeze mine and he looks back up at me and says. “Now what kind of older brother would I be to have my little sister hanged for something so trivial?” 

He then leans forward and kisses me fiercely picking me up as I wrap my legs around his waste. 

“I knew you would never betray me.” I say as he kisses down my stomach towards my core as he begins another round.

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @sachaa-ff @mmogurl @classicsimpforaaronwarner @athzhowakar @themoonlitquill @thelastemzy

[helaenarts]

“His reign began with blood and ended in blood as well”

King Maegor I Targaryen

[cherryclitgirl]

The Gods III

Pairing: Maegor x reader

Notes: Mentions of child birth, child loss, murder, and brief use of y/n.

Before: She was just ten and five when she gave birth to Aegon. She was afraid of the thought of giving birth to a monstrosity . they way Alys did. Maegor would’ve not hesitated to kill her if she did . But was she was more afraid of was giving birth. She had never seen anything remotely close to it. Let alone experienced it.

She looked to her side to see her mother standing by the wall. Visenya had allowed her to be in the room, but not near her. Nonetheless her mother made sure to keep her eyes on her daughter.

She laid on the birthing bed gripping the sheets below. Her face covered with her damp silver hair. Sweat and tears mixing together into an unpleasant salty mixture. Her legs dripped with blood and sweat. She felt her entire body shudder into a throbbing pain. Her insides opening to push out a human, a human she had carried for months. Women died giving birth, mayhaps dying was better than facing Maegor. She felt something moving making it difficult to push. She bit the bottom of her lower lip letting out a loud groan. The tears from her eyes had dried out, the only thing stinging her eyes was sweat. The words of encouragement from the midwife did not help her, all she wanted was her mother. She stopped after a few pushes panting from exhaustion. Everything was blurry, the voices of those around her were incoherent. Her body was weak and filled with pain. Their voices began to drift away as she gritted her teeth tightly. How she managed to keep going was a mystery of its own. She heard his small cries. Still unable to see, she tried to speak but her words came out in mumbles.

“A boy!” Was all she heard around her. Everyone spoke at once with excitement, relieved that a healthy boy had been born. Whilst everyone was distracted by the new born babe Alyssa left the wall rushing to her daughter.

“You did well my dear” she softly brushing y/n’s hair off her face. She quickly looked for a rag to wipe her daughter’s sweat off. “So well” she chuckled sadly, tears swelling in her eyes. Her daughter smiled weakly ,the labor was yet to be done but it was clear that her daughter was exhausted. “Mother” y/n spoke quietly reaching for Alyssa’s hand. “My darling ” Alyssa soothed her gently cleaning the sweat of her daughter.

Alyssa looked up to see Visenya holding a small bundle wrapped in a cloth. She quickly stood up allowing her daughter to see her son. The maids helped her daughter sit up, placing pillow in her back to support her and provide comfort. “A healthy boy” Visenya said carefully placing her grandson on her arms. The boy had been carefully cleaned, his eyes wide awake staring into his mother’s with curiosity. She smiled down at her babe, her vision becoming less blurry. Holding him felt strange, her dizziness confusing her, almost forgotting that the small bundle was hers. Her own flesh and blood. For a moment she just stared and realization slowly crept in. She placed a small kiss on his head that made the babe flutter his eyes “Aegon” she spoke softly.

Everyone around her nodded with agreement, named after his grandsire they thought. They were far from wrong, she named him after her older brother. The only one aware of that was Alyssa, everyone saw a young girl holding her babe but Alyssa saw a child holding a child.

Her return to kings landing happened shortly after giving birth. She was in no condition to travel, however Maegor demanded to see his child. Visenya personally accompanied y/n back to the Red keep, making sure her and the babe were taken care of.

Aegon was fully awake, cooing softly as he nibbled on his small hand. His mother looked down at him and smile, her heart fluttering with happiness. He was the most precious thing she ever saw. “My darling boy” she whispered holding him close.

When she stepped out of the wheelhouse Maegor was not waiting for her but Ceryse. Ceryse wary expression made y/n uncomfortable. When Ceryse walked closer to the girl and her new born son, her heart clenched with jealousy and sadness. “He’s beautiful ” Ceryse’s lip twitch into a sad smile, she fought back tears her throat tightening and itching. She held Aegon in her arms, The boy was healthy, a pure Targaryen. Silver hair and purple eyes. The child was not hers. It was in her faith to crave always something that was given to another.

“Thank you, your grace” y/n said as she watched how Ceryse looked at Aegon. Her finger carefully caressing his small delicate face. “He awaits for you in the great hall” she said slowly tearing her gaze away from the boy. “You should rest, y/n, I shall take him” Ceryse said her grip on the small bundle slightly tightened.

“The mother of the child will take him” Visenya declared behind y/n. She was no fool, she would not allow Ceryse to present her grandson to Maegor. There was a brief silence between the three women before Ceryse slowly handed Aegon back to his mother.

The throne room was packed and eerie silent, not a single noble dared to make a sound. Every noble in the Red keep stood waiting for the arrival of the new born prince. Their eyes fixed on Maegor as his tall regal figure sat on the large iron throne. He wore his crown with pride, and bore an unreadable expression,Black fyre tightly clutched on his hand. He fixed his eyes on the door waiting and listing.

The doors slowly opened to reveal queen y/n holding a small babe wrapped in a black and red blanket with an embroidered dragon. Dowager queen Visenya stood proudly behind her guarding her with a smile on her face. Everyone in the hall turned their attention to the young queen, their eyes scanning her and fixed strongly on what was in her arms.

She slowly walked into throne room. Her steps measured and quiet, her heels clicking on the stone. She felt the stares of the court on her, lords of major houses had been summoned at once to pled their fidelity to the new born heir.

Maegor slowly rose from his seat, his tall figure over looking the crowded hall. His expression impassive as his young wife stopped at the bottom of the iron throne. He crept down to where she was, with a small curtsy she handed him his son. “Aegon Targaryen, your grace” she told him softly. Maegor hummed softly and took his son into his arms. The babe look unusually small in his arms. He moved the blanket away from Aegon’s face, his large thumb moving slightly over the wisps of hair. The true embodiment of a Valyrian. “Aegon” he repeated looking at his son “A name fit for a king” he declared loudly, the hall soon erupted into claps and voices filled with happiness and excitement.

Ceryse stood alone in the arched corridors, away from the crowd watching Maegor parade his son with pride. She felt Tyanna’s presence behind her sending an uncomfortable feeling down her neck. “Do keep trying Lady Ceryse” Tyanna maliciously whispered “Sooner or later your barren womb will produce an heir” she mocked.

Ceryse stiffen and glanced to her side “If you allow it ” she whispered to Tyanna. A mischievous smile appeared on her face as she looked at Ceryse’s dress “I let this one live, didn’t I” she said gently touching Ceryse’s dress “Though, it was more of your doing.” The green l fabric felt delicate under her finger tips. “Caring for the girl is admirable” she continued, Ceryse’s eye fell on Tyanna’s fingers. “So is leaving Maegor’s chamber early in the morrow” she snickered.

“It is my duty as his wife. ” Ceryse hissed quietly looking away from Tyanna. “His true wife”

“The beacon on the Hightower… it glows green when Oldtown calls it’s banners to war” Tyanna smirked her finger tips leaving the green dress.

Ceryse remained quiet silently seething with frustration. She had worn the green dress out of spite, she disliked the color green,she disliked war. An impulsive decision she regretted. Unfortunately for her it would a war she would fight alone as it was clear, Maegor had gotten what he longed for. An heir. : End

Y/n held her precious babe in her arms, softly humming to him as her finger traced his small nose. He was growing fast, it was clear he would be strong like his father “You will be king one day” she told her son “but for now…you’re all mine” she smile kissing her son’s head.His small finger wrapping around hers tightly. He nibbled on it slightly cooing as he looked up, his beautiful purple eyes sparkling with curiosity.

Every time she kissed his cheek Aegon would laugh. Giggles that brought a smile to her face. The laughter would soon fade and replace itself with the sounds of her son’s muffled cries, filling her ears with dread. as her dream began to change her precious babe slowly faded away from her arms, a cruel reminder that he had been taken from her.

She hated the dream, it was the same recurring dream, that would soon turn into a nightmare. Every night and every day. She sat up on her bed wiping away the tears that formed in her sleep. She glanced at her daughter who slept peacefully, her darling girl. Her only daughter. She looked at Rheanor who slept on his bed clutching his toy dragon. He was two summers old yet bore a resemblance to Baelon. She had been allowed to named her four children She named Rhaenor and Rhaella after her sister Rhaena. She named Baelon after her husband’s dragon, although her first choice was to name him after her younger brother Viserys. Nonetheless Maegor did not protest, but did raise an eyebrow at the names of his two young children.

Even after the death of Aegon she kept her children close. Perhaps even closer than before. The paranoia she once felt still lingered, specially in the night. Guards were to now stand outside her door at all times. She had very few maids and no ladies in waiting except for Kiara. She had replaced the maids with only a few that were recommended Maester Benifer. Kiara being the main one of all of them. There was an unspoken agreement between the two, where ever she went ;Kiara followed.

- - - - - - - - -

She was the last to enter the small council meeting, unlike Tyanna who was always the first. Maegor was at the very head of the table, the hand of the king Lord Edwell Celtigar sat on his right . Her seat had been moved, from sitting next to lord Daemon Valeryon to sitting next to Maegor himself. “Where is Baelon” Maegor asked her when she sat down next to him. She watched as the new cup barrer began to fill their wine. Her stomach twisted as she looked at the young boy, picturing her poor brother Viserys. “The Library “ she replied looking back at him.

“Why?” Maegor questioned as he took a sip of his wine. “Because I send him there” she replied placing her hand over her cup, it was too early for wine. Maegor paused his drinking, the attention of the small council now focused on the two of them. Maegor had strictly instructed for Baelon to attend the small council meetings since he was named heir. A demand y/n found ridiculous since the boy was barely four.

“Fetch for the boy” Maegor ordered the cup barrer. As the cup barrer was about to put the flagon down the young queen spoke. “Stay” she opposed firmly. There was an uncomfortable silence in the room until Maegor spoke “I will not be defied!“ he snapped at his wife.

She bit the inside of her cheek fighting the urge to snap back “Neither will I” she said calmly. “If you wish for him to king then he must learn Valyrian” she added not tearing her eyes from him.

Maegor scoffed knowing his wife was right and waved his cup at the young squire “Fetch for more wine then”.

The small council members relaxed seeing the tension between the king and queen wash away. The first to speak was Queen Tyanna who served as mistress of whispers “Your grace, you will be pleased to know that Alyssa Velaryon has been taken refuge under Lord Rogar Baratheon “ she said eyeing Daemon.

The rest of the council turned to Daemon, y/n among them. He was her uncle, yet to her he felt more of stranger. Having only spoken few times, she wondered how he would reply. He was loyal to crown and she had been cautious enough to avoid asking him about her mother.

Maegor’s sharp gaze was on Daemon waiting for him to speak. It was clear that his pride had been hurt after hearing his sister’s whereabouts. He could not risk standing with his sister, it would put his house at risk.

“I was unaware of this your grace” Daemon clarified “I had send word to Driftmark, if a Raven from Alyssa arrived, I would be let known”

Tyanna scoffed taking a sip of her wine “Only a fool would expect a raven”. Daemon swallowed his pride but was tempted to reply to Tyanna’s comment.

“What about Princess Rhaena?” Maegor asked Tyanna. A smile appeared on her face as she looked at the queen. Y/n’s hand clenched under the table at the mention of the her sister. The look on Tyanna made her nails dig into her palm. Her attention was entirely on Tyanna. It had been years since she had last seen her sister. In the nights she would stand by window, silently pleading her sister to come back. “She has taken residence in Volantis” Tyanna smirked

“Mayhaps she has taken work in a pleasure garden as well ” The maester of coin Lord Alton Butterwell snickered. His comment provoked a laughter among the rest of the men in the small council. Only Ser Olyver Bracken the new appointment Lord commander of the kings guards kept a stale expression. Having served the royal family for many years, he had see the princess’s Rhaena and y/n in their early years. He found the comment to be humorless and insulting to both the Queen and her sister. The first thing most men thought of when they heard Volantis, was its famous pleasure houses. Lord Alton was among the men that paid large amounts of gold to sleep with the most famous whores. He was the type of men to fill his mouth with finest foods and the most expensive wines. He will never know the hardships of women and their need for survival. The insinuation that her sister had taken work as a whore made her blood boil. She knew her sister would never do such thing. Yet, the mere thought of her picturing her sister in a city filled men that prayed on young girls and women infuriated her.

Queen Y/n said nothing, she only stared at Lord Alton who indulged his wine whilst he laughed. Her nails digging into her palm so tightly it had began to bleed. His fat cheeks blushed from the laughter, his large chain around his neck suffocating his fat neck. He was disgusting. Her thoughts were filled with a desirable urge to see his face be smashed into the glass orb. One swift movement she thought. Only one movement it would take for him to stop laughing.

She had the absolute power to see it happen. Ser Olyver would follow her order, the guards would come into the room and drag Lord Alton way. She was unsure about Maegor’s reaction, would he be angry she took order and abused her position? Did Maegor wish for her to show the same cruelty as him?. In her years as one of the queens she never once commanded or ordered anyone. It was Tyanna and Ceryse that used that power. Had she not wasted her youthful years giving birth to children. Mayhaps she would’ve learned to be decent queen. A good queen. It was her fault she thought. That they had forgotten to fear her. She was the queen, her name added more importance to the tittle than anything else . She was a Targaryen, her sister was a Targaryen. To insult a Targaryen princess was an act of treason. So long as she is the queen, treason shall never go unpunished.

“Ser Olyver” She spoke as the laughter was dying down. Ser Olyver’s attention turned to her at once . “Bring me his head” she commanded.

The command took Ser Olyver by surprise, the once cheerful room fell into a deep silence. The faces of the members became appalled and confused. The command was unexpected, as they had never heard her utter such cruel words. After a long awkward silence Maegor spoke waving his hand for the cup barer “You heard your queen” he said as he drank his wine “She wants his head”. Without another word Maegor rose from his seat and with cup in hand he left the small council room.

Tyanna smirked at the girl before she too left the room. It was clear the meeting had been cut short, one by one the rest of the lords left the room. By the time every one had left it was just Lord Alton and Queen y/n and a few white cloaks.

“Your Grace” Lord Alton pleaded as he rose from his seat. He was quickly pushed back down by Ser Olyver “I-it was never my intention to insult you in any way-“ his voice trembling as he watched her walk to the flagon of wine. “It was merely a joke “ he excused , his fat face releasing a large amount of sweat. His eyes darting to the king’s guards and back to the queen. She held the flagon and walked to where he was. She ignored his pleading.The once prideful fat man was now at her mercy. She stood behind him and slowly dumped the entire thing on his head. He gasped as he drowned in the berry taste of grapes. The same way he drowned in his cups.

“Joke?” She said placing the flagon on the table “a mere joke?” She repeated her fingers drumming on the table.

“My apologies, M-my deepest apologies your grace” he begged. His expensive lavish clothes soaked , unleashing a strong smoky smell of a well aged wine.

“Call for Lord Tymond Lannister “ she told Ser Olyver. “He will be the new master of coin”. She left the room leaving the guards to deal with a screaming pig. Her first demand had been as cruel as her husband. The court would remember and so would be the people. The queen’s first action was to punish a man for insulting her sister. Some would call it unfair and cruel, others would say it was well deserved.

One thing was clear, the brothels in the street of silk had lost a value costumer. But the women working them had one less man to worry about. A woman was a woman, no matter her position.

- - - - - - - - - - - -

The following days all the court could talk about was the incident in the small council. The story had changed in various ways. Some said that Lord Alton had insulted the queen . Other’s said the queens first command was a reaction to her madness after the death of her first born. But the version many clanged to was that queen y/n had gone mad in the hands of Maegor. Causing her to take such drastic measures. After years in his capacity she had developed the same habits as him. Some even went as far to say that had the queen been allowed to ride her dragon Skyfyre she would’ve already fled with her children.

The sad truth of it all, was the princess missed her Dragon dearly. She would stand by the window holding Rhaella in her arms while she watched her dragon. It was clear Skyfyre missed her rider deeply. She grew restless and would be seen soaring above the Redkeep. Maegor had forbidden her from riding her dragon. He didn’t trust her and even when did began to trust her, something told him that allowing her to ride her dragon would allow her to run away.

But for the first time Queen y/n did not feel trapped. She had a few friends and little to no allies at court. However she paid no attention it. She was never a pleaser of the court. Those she needed to befriend were distributed in the seven kingdoms. She had a close bond with House Lannister and House Redwyne. Even exchanged letters with the Lady of Winterfell Lysa Stark.

She had Rhaella in her arms while Rhaenor played with his wooden soldiers. Baelon sat quietly scribbling on a piece of Parchment. There were rare moments where the queen could be away from Maegor. His attention had solely focused on his oldest sons. There were a few occasions where he could stop in the room to see his two youngest. But he never step foot in the room.

Before: Maegor had cared for things, a something some considered rare. Among those things was his son, whom he adored. There was not a day that Aegon was not in his arms. Constantly showing him off at court, it was clear Maegor was proud of his boy. He insisted on bringing Aegon to the small council meetings.In his arms slept Aegon whilst the lords discussed the politics of the realm. Although it was clear Maegor’s attention was never focused on the meetings. Some nights Maegor crept into the room where Aegon and his mother slept, stealing his son away he would make his way to Balerion. He often sat on Balerion’s saddle simply holding his son. His cruel heart warming up every time he saw his son’s purple eyes. Aegon was loved, oh so loved

Maegor had been completely attached to Aegon. He had been vulnerable and let his guard down. He would not repeat the same mistake again. But one something was different. He came into the room unannounced. Taking in the view his eyes landed on his eldest son. Queen y/n did not bother to look up as she thought it would be like his other visits. Before she knew it Maegor had walked to where she was, his voice low and serious he asked “Might I?”. The question took her by surprise , he never held his sons, let alone his daughter. “Of course” she replied gently placing Rhaella in his arms. He carefully held his daughter, his big arms gently holding her. She was a quiet child, a peaceful child. He adjusted her small dress. She had her mother’s soft purple eyes. It was clear she would be the very image of queen y/n.

She nuzzled her small head into his chest while his hand caressed her back. Maegor knew his children were by loved by their mother. He admired her for it, she loved their children the way his mother loved him. He stayed like that for a while, the room’s atmosphere had shifted. Baelon played with his brother. His mother sitting near by. Maegor held his daughter in his arms whilst he watched his sons play. She was unsure why he had a change of heart. Why he had chosen this particular day. A passer by would’ve assumed they had a close bond. A father who loved his children and wife , spending the noon together as a family.

Sometimes our eyes deceive us. We see things that aren’t there. Simple illusions our brains create. But to Queen Tyanna the image was clear. It was real and well made. She stood outside the door watching king Maegor and y/n spend the evening with their children. They were completely unaware of her cloud lurking outside the threshold. She watched closely as the cruel king held his daughter. Her eyes had seen plenty of the queen, should the king know his young wife was getting rid of potential babes. He would never hold his daughter again.

- - - - - - - - - - -

“Queen Ceryse has requested to see you, your grace” Kiara bowed her head to her queen. The hour was quite late and the y/n was busy getting her children to bed. She looked up from Rheanor confused “Now?” She asked Kiara.

Kiara nodded “Yes your grace”. Y/n planted a kiss on Rhaenor and left his side. Ceryse’s call had been completely unexpected, she was already in her sleeping gown. If Ceryse had asked for her then it was urgent. Their relationship was nothing but civil. They weren’t bonded like sisters but being the oldest Ceryse did provide her with protection from Tyanna. Although their relationship had been strained over the past year, she held no grudges for her. She did not blame Ceryse nor Tyanna. But at times she did wonder if Ceryse had told truth. Had Ceryse purposely left her door unattended? She would never know.

Still the young princess instructed Kiara to remain with the children until she returned. Two guards stood outside her door their attention ever so vigilant. As she began to walk away one of the guards left his post, she looked back bewildered “The hour is late hour grace” the white cloak told her. “We are to keep you and the children safe” the other guard added.

She had completely forgotten about the rule Maegor had placed. “Of course” she nodded. The white cloak followed her keeping his distance but still close enough to protect her. The castle was silent and empty. It’s darks long halls illuminated by the torches on the wall. The shining moon above illuminated some parts of the now finished castle. Ironically if queen y/n had gone to her left she would’ve taken the same route she took the night her son was murdered.

The only who seemed to noticed was the white cloak who looked back before he continued his steps. He had heard the tale many times. Each version more twisted than the last. He tried to picture the young girl carrying two babes in her arms while she made sure her other son was safe. But to him the situation was too unsettling to picture it. As a believer of the faith he was among the many that felt pity for the girl.

She stopped outside Ceryse’s door “It won’t take long” she told the white cloak. She entered the room to see Ceryse sat on her bed. Her back against the bed frame. Her hand resting on her stomach. Her long blonde hair down to her shoulders. There no candles lit, the only light being the moonlight that shone through the window.

Ceryse smile slightly when she saw y/n “Sickness does put one in it’s weakest state” she joked. Y/n smiled a bit before she took a seat on the bed “It’s better than childbirth” she joked back

Ceryse chuckled and took her hand “Some of us would rather take that pain”. Y/n place her hand on overs here’s as well. Her gaze moved to the an opened window. The air tangling itself with the curtains. “Were you standing ?” She asked looking back at Ceryse.

Ceryse sighed a small smile forming on her face “I stood to watch Skyfyre” she told y/n “it seems she’s restless and misses you”.

Y/n looked back at the window, it was clear she missed her dragon as well but she said nothing. “I was told what you did in the small council “ Ceryse smirked at girl.

Y/n looked back at Ceryse “It was necessary “ she said. There was a brief silence between the two of them. Ceryse looked at the girl, her youthfulness had not been tampered with. Her silver hair and purple eyes sparkled in the dim moonlight. Her eternal beauty was a reminder that Targaryens were closer to gods than men. She did not blame Maegor for marrying her, any man with a cock could only dream about marrying a Targaryen princess. Her words stuck a cord on Ceryse, she had never heard the young girl say such words. She was the youngest and most gentle out the three. At least that was what she believed.

“Do not let Maegor corrupt you, you are a good person. I believe your heart is pure and the love you hold for your children will serve as a shield” Ceryse whispered gently. Y/n kept quiet, even in her death bed Ceryse still saw her a naive weak minded girl.

“I wasted my years I was filled with hatred and jealousy” Ceryse voice was sincere and filled with regret. “I resented you..for being unaware of the feelings I heartily hid”. After all years of pretending Ceryse finally revealed her feelings towards the girl. “We reconciled in old town” she said. “I forgave him, I accepted Alys and promised to make the effort with Tyanna” Ceryse’s words were soft .It was clear she fought tears as she spoke “On the third day of the feast…. He rose up and held his cup…. the doors opened “ she spat with sadness “There you stood, a Targaryen princess barely ten and five”. Ceryse paused and wiped off her tears. She scoffed quietly and spoke again “He took as your wife in front of me…. And I hated you “ she said her words filled with sorrow and anger . “A child” she said letting out a humorless laugh “A child had taken my husband” her breathing hitched and angry tears swelled up in her eyes. “You fell pregnant faster than expect, I could’ve let you stay. Allowed Tyanna to get rid of the child” she confessed “But what used would’ve that done”.

“I tried getting pregnant, lots of times….it was useless” Ceryse swallowed “But you became pregnant without complications. Locked away squishing child after child. I resented you more and more ”.

“I prayed for the Stranger to take you. For death to wrap it’s s arms around you. So I could raise your children as my own…I believed I was owed that”

The curtains blew in the windows tangling themselves together as the air gushed in the room. “How grand it must have been.. to a mother”

“I prayed for the gods to hurt you” she confessed. “So they took Aegon” Her gaze finally met hers, Ceryse’s eyes were filled with remorse and tears. “Forgive me” she begged “p-please” her voice cracking and her tears cascading

Y/n face was blanked and pensive “I knew….” She said her voice soft . “ I always knew” she told Ceryse. Unlike Ceryse, she had not tears in her eyes.

“You knew?” Ceryse repeated her tone betraying her shock. She spend years secretly hating a child. A child who always knew and did not care.

“I didn’t want to be his queen “ Y/n said “I wanted to go home”. She knew Ceryse hated her, but she did not expect for her to hate so much. To wish death upon her. Ceryse wanted y/n’s children, she wanted y/n gone.

“He took our home, and he took my brother’s throne ….…he killed Aegon beneath the Gods eye and he called that mercy.” Y/n said. Ceryse was aware of the cruelty y/n had endured in the hands of Maegor. Someone the girl was still sane, at least in her eyes.

“I did not love him…I hated him…” Queen y/n spoke distantly. “Many times I wished to jump from one the towers. I could’ve done it..it would been fast.. a quick death in the hands of Maegor”

“But I had my children…they saved me” she said rising from Ceryse’s side.

“I love none but my children “ she said “On that font a mother has no choice “ her voice strangely low. She stood by Ceryse’s night stand where a flask of milk of the poppy rested. Ceryse had been taken it to sooth her illness that slowly ate her away. A sudden illness Maester Benifer had no cure for.

“For Aegon” she said coldly as she dropped the flask onto the cold stone floor. The liquid flowing away into the dirty cracks. Ceryse could only watch as the only thing that kept her alive was taken from her. The Queen had not forgiven her, in fact had she not confessed mayhaps she wouldn’t have blamed her for the death of her son.

Queen y/n left the Ceryse’s chamber without another word. She closed the door behind her knowing Ceryse would be dead come the morrow. Her cold body to be found by the maids. But tonight no one would come to aid her, no one would save Ceryse the way no one saved y/n.

A mother’s wrath is stronger than the wrath of the gods. For there was a debt to be paid, and only death could pay it.

[aemondapologistfrfr]

Death's Servant

vampire!maegor x fem!servant!reader

Summary: You are Maegor's personal servant who sees to most, if not all of his needs regardless of what he requires. 

Warnings: 18+ it’s maegor, blood, death(not mc), violence, a hint of humiliation, oral(m+f), p in v, period sex, overstim

Authors Note: this is a lot and self indulgent also ig i’m in some vampire mood so i’m sure i’ll write another soon 🤷🏼‍♀️ why would i write for one of the million ongoing mini series i have when i could write another random one shot 🤔

Word Count: 3k

                                         ᓚᘏᗢ

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

There has been a large number of servants going missing from around the Keep and people are beginning to whisper. I have the privilege, or horror, of knowing what becomes of these people. It is known Maegor is a cruel man and King and rumors of him drinking the blood of his enemies aren’t too far off. In honesty, I’m the one who pours it into his chalice for him. 

Word around the castle is that Maegor had just returned from Dragonstone. It’s been said that he seems angry and upset and I start to make my way up to his chambers. As I reach the top of the steps I stop in my tracks. I hear a sudden scream and then it’s cut short. I push open Maegor's chamber doors with a sigh before I seal them behind me. 

“You’d be smart to knock next time.” his mouth is against my neck the second I step foot into his solar. 

“You must keep your meals quiet.” I hum walking past him looking at the poor male servant leaning over the edge of the tub. “What are you doing?” I tilt my head watching the man’s neck wound gush into his bath water. 

“Preparing a bath.” his breath fans across my neck. 

“Usually I do that for you.” I turn and look up at him. 

“I wanted to try something new.” he looks to the tub behind me.

“You may need more than just him.” I walk over to the steaming water and sigh at the mess. “What am I to fill your chalice with, my King?” I turn and find him towering behind me. 

“Go fetch me another.” he smirks and I sigh brushing past him. “Quickly.” he’s at the doors pushing them open for me. 

I close my eyes and exhale as the doors snap shut behind me. I question my sanity and self preservation everyday but I can’t bring myself to leave the Keep and out of his thrall. Wherever I go he’d be able to find me. Maegor is a paranoid man, if I were to leave he’d rip the realm apart just to kill me rather than have me and my knowledge go on. There’s not many who know of what he is besides his mother. 

I push these thoughts from my mind as I enter the servants quarters. Everyday they look at me as if I’m a miracle for still breathing after catering to Maegor. I start to collect some oils and soaps and approach two of the older men who make some of the other servant girls uncomfortable. I don’t necessarily like picking people to bring up to Maegor, it makes me feel like The Stranger made flesh. When he makes me find him his meals I try to pick people that most won’t miss. 

“Could you both help me bring some more hot water up, please?” their eyes travel up my body before they stand. They agree and I tell them to bring the buckets to the Kings chambers. I make my way back up the stairs and slip into Maegor's chambers. 

“This is not blood.” he pulls the basket from my hand. 

“No, it’s not.” I hum taking the basket back and he chuckles lowly. “It’s on its way up. Along with more bath water. So contain yourself until they finish their job.” I bring the oils and soaps to the tub. 

“It amazes me you never cease to keep an attitude with me.” his tongue darts across my pulse and my body stills. “Do you not fear death?” his hand wraps up my front and engulfs my chin and cheek turning it to the side. 

“Am I not death's servant bringing you your meals?” I hum letting my eyes shut. “Though, I think you should start sourcing your meals outside of the Keep.” his movements stop and he turns me to face him. 

“Why?” he looks at me curiously. 

“Because you won’t have any servants left if you keep draining them all.” I shake my head at the obvious fact. 

“I’ll still have you.” his low words stir something inside of me. 

“Will you not kill me too, my King?” I look up at him. 

“I plan to keep you with me forever.” he pulls me closer. “As long as you never betray me.” he searches my eyes. 

“I would never betray you Maegor.” I reach up cupping his face. 

“Your devotion is unmatched. I want-“ he cuts himself off as the male servants enter his chambers. He’s at the doors the next second, sealing the four of us inside. Once they step deeper into his chambers their feet stop as they take on the bathtub. “Go ahead and pour the water in.” Maegor looks at them with a feral smile. 

Water starts to slosh out the sides of the buckets as the servants approach the tub with quaking hands. The body is still draped over the tub as his neck is still slowly leaking. They dump the water in and turn with pale faces. Maegor steps forward and one of them drops their bucket. He starts to apologize but Maegor is sinking his teeth into his neck before slamming him over the tub to fill the tub with more. The other servant stands there frozen in shock. 

“It’s better if you stay still.” I hum walking over to him. Maegor watches as I have the servant sit on the lip of the tub. I hold my hand out and Maegor places his dagger into my palm. I slice the servant's arm and he looks at me in horror as I let his blood flow into an awaiting chalice. 

“I want to watch you kill him.” Maegor purrs from above me. 

“At least let me pour you a couple more cups.” I hold up the now full chalice to him. He nods at me sipping from his cup. As he pulls it away from his now red mouth he offers me a pink smile. The servant has gone into a state of shock which helps me fill more for Maegor. After I’ve filled three I look up at Maegor who’s licking his lips. “How do you want me to kill him?” I blink up at him. 

“Quickly and over the tub. I wish to bathe before the water freezes.” I scoff at his words and rise. I look down at the man before me and let out a sigh. I lift the blade and swipe it across his neck. I flare my nostrils as his blood sprays across my neck and shove the dagger back into Maegor's hand. I go to reach for a cloth and he pulls me over to him. His tongue darts across my neck and I squeak. 

“Maegor,” I gasp, holding on to his arms. He slowly lets his tongue collect the droplets sliding down my chest. He starts to untie my dress and my nails dig into his skin. “I thought you didn’t want your bath to get cold.” my voice breathy. 

“You should thank your King for cleaning you up.” he rasps against my skin as I feel his teeth press against my skin. Not hard enough to break through but enough to have me clinging against him. 

“Thank you, my King.” I scold myself for how much I allow him to affect me. He places one last kiss against my pulse before stepping back. He turns me around and ties my dress back up. “Such a generous King.” my tone teasing and his hand lands hard on my backside. 

“I’m getting quite tired of your mouth today.” I turn my head and scowl at him. He twists me around before shoving me down to my knees. I look up to him nibbling my lip with a smile knowing this was bound to happen. I reach up and start to unlace his trousers and he chuckles cupping my cheek. “Look how eager you are.” his hand twists and he pushes his thumb into my mouth. I wrap my lips around his thumb and let my tongue slide against the pad. 

I free him from his trousers and he pulls his thumb out and shoves himself in my mouth. He holds onto my hair as he roughly thrusts into my mouth. I moan around him as spit leaks out the side of my lips. He groans, digging his fingers into my scalp as he pulls my hair moving me against him. I let him use me for his pleasure and I’m no stranger to his harsh and heated touch. He pulls out and slides his tip around my lips and my tongue chases after him. He shoves himself back into my mouth and begins to hit the back of my throat. Tears start to fall down my face and he quickens his pace. He pulls back out with a loud groan and starts to fist himself. 

“Open your mouth.” he growls and I do as I’m told and let my tongue push out of my mouth. The hand that’s buried in my hair starts to tighten and I whine and his pleasure starts to fall across my mouth and face. It mixes with my tears and spit and his grip on my hair starts to loosen. “Go get me more hot water.” he breathes heavily, leaning down and looking me in the eyes. “As you are. Let everyone in the Keep see how much of a whore you are for your King.” he tugs me up to my feet and hauls me to his doors. 

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

I hold my cloak tighter to me and I quickly walk down the steps. I knew Maegor was paranoid but having these tunnels built is a new extreme even for him. I hold the candle out in front of me offering me the smallest amount of light. I’ve requested torches to be lined across the walls if he wants me to keep bringing him his meals. He tells me over and over that he’ll hire more men yet here I am and the only light is surrounding my body. 

I make my way down another set of stairs and the air starts to get cooler. I pull the hood up as I approach the familiar iron gates and get the key out of my pocket. I’ve convinced Maegor to start dining upon the dungeons and the servants have been relieved at the lack of their friends going missing. I grab a man from the closest cell and unlock the door. I grab him by the chain connecting his hands and begin hauling him out and back up the stairs. I pull him through the entrance in Maegor's chambers and close it behind me. 

“I love the torches you've installed in the tunnels.” I push the prisoner over to him. 

“I said-“ he stops and looks at me with a smile. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he licks his lips while walking over to me. 

“I’ve told you time and time again to get me fucking torches Maegor.” I don’t care about the bite in my voice and he chuckles stalking closer. 

“Not the torches.” he pushes my hair off my shoulder. “That you’re having your moon blood.” he ghosts his lips over my pulse. 

“I haven’t had the chance.” I push his chest and nod over to the man I brought up to him. 

“I want you.” he starts to pull up my dress. 

“I just hauled him up here in those dark tunnels.” I try to push his hands off of my skirts. “You will have him first.” I purse my lips. 

“The way you speak to me is maddening.” his eyes darken. I roll my eyes at him pulling him over to the man who’s shaking at Maegor's presence. He quickly sinks his teeth into the man who struggles in his grip. Maegor drinks at him greedily before I hear the snap of bone. The man crumbles to the floors and Maegor turns to me wiping his mouth on his arm. “Get on the bed.” his eyes lock on mine. 

“Promise to get me torches before the end of the week.” I stand my ground looking up at him. 

“I don’t care about your fucking torches.” he says through his teeth starting to walk me backwards to the bed. 

“Then I don’t care about getting you food.” I hum raising my chin and he starts to laugh. “Or making your baths. Or serving you. Or anything.” his hand slides to the back of my head tilting it up to look in his eyes. 

“I will get you your torches by the end of the day tomorrow. Now get on the fucking bed.” he clenches his jaw. I slowly sink down onto the bed and he grabs my hips, lifting me and pushing me further up. He rips my dress off of me and I prop myself up and glare at him. He pushes my legs apart groaning at the blood glistening between them. “Next month I want you in my chambers the second this comes. I want to spend the whole week between your thighs.” he buries his head between my legs and I shutter as his tongue lashes against me. 

“Maegor, my King,” I whine, shaking against his face. His fingers dig into my hips as he shoves his tongue into my core. I gasp gripping his hair as his tongue lashes against my sensitive bud. He wraps his arm around to allow his fingers to swirl against my bud and he trails his tongue back down to my core. His fingers push me over the edge and I burst across his tongue and he pulls my hips flush against his mouth. 

His tongue slams into me and wrecked whimpers spill from my mouth. Maegor continues to lap against me while I shake above him. My fingers dig into his arm as his fingers circle my bud faster. I feel my pleasure build rapidly and my breathing is a mix of gasps and pants. A cry falls from my mouth as his tongue speeds up. I try to buck my hips into his face and he chuckles into me before he begins to slowly grind me against his tongue. 

“Maegor,” I whimper. He stills me again and lets his tongue flick against my bud. I fall apart and he slowly licks me through every wave of pleasure. He lifts up and looks at me and I flush at his red mouth and chin. He leans back and pulls his tunic off and pushes his trousers down. He lines himself up and pushes fully into me. “Gods my King.” my eyes roll to the back of my head as he starts to slam into me. My fingers start to claw at his arms and he plucks them off and holds my hands above my head. 

“You always take my cock so fucking good.” he grunts as I arch up into him. He licks across my neck and I whine feeling his teeth graze against my skin. He sucks against my pulse and I clench around him. His fingers dig into my wrists as he loses himself in me. With every thrust a moan is torn from me. I come undone around him and he lets out a low groan. “Just begging for me to fill you up.” his hips start to hammer into me and my legs wrap around him. 

“Please, my King,” my voice cracks. His lips crash to mine and I still give a surprised squeak at the metallic taste. His mouth is rough and unyielding as he pushes his tongue into my mouth. He releases my hands and they cling to his shoulders as he repeatedly snaps his hips into mine. His fingers swirl against my bud and I scream as pleasure slams through me. He fills me with  one last hard thrust pushing me up the bed. He pulls out of me quickly and I feel our pleasure leaking out. I watch him staring between my thighs and I go to close them and his hands hold onto them. “Maegor,” my voice broken as I watch him lower his face between my thighs again

“You’ll be fine. You should be thanking me.” he smiles before softly licking against my sensitive bud. He flicks his tongue against me and I toss my head back into the pillows. I fist the sheets while he holds my legs open showering me with pleasure. 

“Please,” a breathless plea falls from my lips followed by waves of pleasure slamming through me. His lips incase my bud and I bring my hands to his hair to try and pull him away. “I can’t-I,” his fingers push into my core and I shutter. His fingers curl and my breath catches as my stomach tightens. His fingers are joined by his tongue as he brings his other hand to my center to swirl my bud. My thighs slam around his face now that they're able and he continues as I cry above him. My high crashes through my body and my thighs tremble around his head. He slowly pulls my legs back open and spreads featherlight kisses across the inside of my thighs. “No more.” I plead, grabbing his arm. 

“For now we’re going to rest.” he kisses up my body before collapsing next to me. He pulls me against his chest and slowly trails his fingers up and down my spine. “You’ll stay with me.” he hums holding me closely and I nod my head against his chest allowing my eyes to droop. 

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

masterlist 🔌 

ummmm n e ways 🧎🏼‍♀️

taglist ✍️

@clarityisnofun @gabriella-aesthetic @callsignwidow @llynx7 @violetiss3lfish @ka1afbr @akiko-oo @papichulo120627 @lizzylovebooks280501 @thatgirl101blog @1-fuzzy-squirrels @arya-brooke @ashovertheriver @zanygot7straykidsbonk @moonymoo1 @malfoycassimalfoy @april-notthemonth69 @anaviieiraaa @p45510n4f4shi0n @neocockthotology @thereaderwitch @hardkiddonut @faenyra @hiimava11 @daintylittlesunflower @primroseluna @fiction-fanfic-reader @povofjustme @multilover19 @alexxavicry @cedstars @fuckalrighty @mrsmunson-harrington @misspendragonsworld

[gulnarsultan]

Can i request something about the Future something like teacher teaching their students about us Reader. Example like we were force to marry the King (like Maegor and Aegon i) and we got pregnant at a young age and they didn't stop getting the reader pregnant and it only stop until we died of child birth (just like the history of like Anne Boleyn or other women, etc.) or just someone talking about her, her impact on the history, about her children, about how she gave birth so young and how she didn't deserve all of that or whatever

(btw I'm so sorry if this is confusing, English is really not my first language)

Hello dear. English is not my native language either. You have written your curiosity in an explanatory way. I hope you like it.

⛔(Warning : Pregnancy, birth and death.)⛔

》Scenario《

Septa was standing in the middle of her room. She was waiting for the students to take their seats. After everyone sat down, Septa took the book in her hand and opened it quickly.

"Today we will learn about Queen Y/N."

Some of the female students held their breath.

"The wife of the cruel Maegor? The only person who managed to stop that tyrant?"

"Yes dear. Today we will read about the fourth wife of the cruel Maegor and his true Queen."

All of the students gave Septa their full attention.

"Shortly after Maegor the Cruel usurped the throne, he went to Oldtown. He stayed there for six months. This is when fate intervened. Lady Y/N was there. Some say it was love at first sight, some say it was obsession, some say it was the possessive nature of the dragon. But we will never know which is true. Maegor returned to the Red Keep with       Lady Y/N, whom he had married in Oldtown. Some say that Lady Y/N was forced into this marriage. Lady Y/N was pregnant at the time. Maegor was very possessive and protective of his new wife. There were rules that the lady had to follow. Rules set by kings. The King and Queen's first child and future King, Prince Baelon, was born in 43 AC King's City. The prince's birth was celebrated with great festivities. The Queen was truly the lifeline of Westeros. She fought for the people and the nobility. She soon earned the titles of Queen of the Kingdom and Mother of the Realm. Everyone thought that the King would get his precious Queen pregnant again without wasting any time.  Maegor, however, chose to wait, against all odds. He gave the Queen time to heal between the births of her first few children. But soon the dragon's greed overtook Maegor. His pride and ego had been bruised by years of living with his barren nag. Each time his Queen became pregnant, Maegor felt like eating a meal he had always enjoyed. This is the order in which Maegor and Lady Y/'s children were born."

Prince Baelon 43 AC Prince Aegon 45 AC Princess Visenya 47 AC Prince Aerion and Princess Daenerys 49 AC Prince Rhaegel 51 AC Prince Aelora and Prince Daeron 53 AC Prince Maelor 54 AC Prince Gaemon 55 AC

"After Prince Gaemon's birth, the Queen said she could not bear any more births. She pleaded and begged the King. She had had enough and could not bear another. The Maesters told her how dangerous another pregnancy would be for the Queen. But King Maegor believed that these were just excuses. The Queen had become pregnant once more. The first three months were normal. But the second trimester was difficult. The Queen was thin and looked pale and tired. Maegor began to worry, but it was too late to have an abortion. After two more months, the Queen's labor began. A month early. All the midwives and Maesters were mobilized. The hours passed, but the baby was not being born. The Grand Maester left the delivery room and went hesitantly to the King who was waiting in the hallway. He told her that she had to choose between the baby or the Queen. Maegor angrily grabbed the Maester by the collar and lifted him into the air. He shouted that they must save his Queen. But chaos soon broke out in the delivery room. The Maester ran back into the room.  Maegor could not wait any longer, so he entered the room. His Queen lay motionless on the bed, her eyes open and her face stained with tears. The bed was completely covered in blood. Maegor had seen much blood in his life, and it was stained with blood. But this sight startled and horrified Maegor. He approached the bed slowly. He held his Queen to his chest carefully. He shooed everyone out of the room. He did not leave the room for hours. The next days were a blur for the King and the children. After King Maegor burned his Queen's body, he lay there motionless for hours. The Queen's ashes were buried. The realm was in a period of mourning for months. Prince Baelon had taken on the role of a parent figure for his younger siblings. And now he was distant from his father. Until the day the Queen died, Prince Baelon and King Maegor had a true father and son relationship. King Maegor loved all of his children. But he had a deeper fondness for his firstborn.  After this, it became Prince Baelon's duty to stop the King's anger. Many years later, King Maegor was confined to bed due to old age. On the day he drew his last breath, he was surrounded by his children and grandchildren. On that day, Prince Baelon was reconciled with his dying father. For the first time in years, he addressed King Maegor as father. King Maegor closed his eyes for eternity that day with a genuine smile on his face. A mourning ceremony was held for King Maegor. Prince Baelon ascended the throne and became King. House Targaryen continued under the title of King Baelon, the true King, born of Maegor the Cruel's worthy Queen."

[n0tamused]

Maegor and Balerion

༒︎ "Maegor was a born warrior whose skill with weapons was unmatched. He lived for war, tourneys, and battle, and rose to become one of the youngest and finest knights of his time. However, he was also a hard and brutal man who craved violence, death, and absolute mastery over all he deemed his. His savagery in the field and his harshness toward defeated enemies was frequently remarked upon. Maegor was quarrelsome, quick to take offense, slow to forgive, and fearsome in his wroth. He was a rigid man, unyielding, and unbending. He preferred fire and steel over settling issues through discussion, and showed cruel tendencies early in his childhood. Although he had many companions throughout his youth, he had no true friends, and even as an adult Maegor trusted no one."༒︎

Maegor and Balerion are here as a continuation of my little series of drawing dragons with their riders. The series has been put on a small pause but here it is! I drew a lot of inspiration from @/ertacaltinoz (on instagram)beautiful art of ASOIAF world.

I am also testing out Krita here, what do you all think? Any advice? Who would you like to see drawn next?

Ⓒ n0tamused/jarttavia_. Do not repost, translate, edit, and/or copy any of my works. Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated.

[sins-of-the-dragons]

Maegor Targaryen x Reader

Your husband gave you a proud approving look as you pour more wine into the cup of the king. Maegor and your husband have been "friends" for many years, from winning wars together to sharing women. Maegor's visit is for political reasons but that doesn't mean him and your husband can't have fun.

Maegor was practically undressing you with his eyes. The feast means very little to him. The dancers making sensual moves meant nothing compared to you. Ever since Maegor arrived, your husband has been telling him about you and Maegor's lust growing every time he sees you.

The feast was not even over when your husband sent you to your room. Your husband knows Maegor too well and is sure how to take care of him. After all he is the king, and the king deserves the best.

A little while later your husband and the king also left the feast, laughing about their wars and kills. Maegor didn't question it when your husband took him to your room. Maegor's eyes immediately got dark with lust as soon aa he saw you.

There you were on the bed, wearing a see through beautiful dress, loose hair, flowers on the bed of silk. "my king" You softly moaned. Your husband walking over and kissing you deeply, touching you as he made you look at Maegor.

Maegor approached. He expected nothing less from the wife of his best friend. You looked at him with admiration and desperation as he put his hand around your neck, mildly chocking you before pulling you in for a kiss. "Don't be too gentle with her," your husband laughed. "She is made for us."

Maegor smirked as he ripped away your dress and then the two just pounced on you. Hands and lips all over your body. You gasped loudly when you felt both of their fingers in you. Marks have already started to form on your body

Maegor didn't waste much time before he positioned himself between your legs. "Beg your king to fuck you," Your husband said from behind as he continue to touch you.

"Please my king, please...please fuck me," You desperately begged. Maegor's eyes grew darker and you let out a loud moan when he entered you. Your moans were heard by everyone outside as he increased his pace.

Soon you find yourself between the two once again. This time your husband taking you from behind, whispering praising words in your ears. It was all proving to be too much but the pleasure was on another level, and what kind of wife and loyal subject would you be if you give up

Your husband kissed you as they both pulled out "my beautiful wife". The relief only lasted for a short while before they claimed you again.

Once they both had their fun they let you rest, cum still inside you. You feeling exhausted but completely satisfied.

Your husband and Maegor didn't even bother covering themselves as they sat on the chairs watching you sleep, with wine in their hands.

"The reason I am really here is because of the future of my house," Maegor explained. "My son (Maegor ii) will need a worthy wife by his side when he comes of age, and your wife just gave birth to a girl a few months ago" Your husband smirked when he realized what Maegor was proposing. He has heard about the young prince, he is just like his father Maegor. And future king. "Let's join our houses"

[athzhowakar]

Queen of Hidden Evils (Chapter I)

✒️ Maegor × Toxic OC wife

✒️ Summary: Maegor needs to find a new wife since his existing wives have failed to provide him an heir. He sends a proposal to a lesser lordly house of the Crownlands, asking the hand of the Lord's widowed sister. Maegor has heard very little about that woman but what really matters for him is the fact that, she has a ten year old daughter and hence, her fertility is proven.

✒️ Trigger warning: Mature content

✒️ Next part: Chapter II

The Red Keep :

“And whom do you suggest this time, Grand Maester?” King Maegor said reluctantly. He was getting quite tired of marrying again and again but he made sure no one knew that.

“Your Grace, if it pleases you, I would suggest Lady Lucinda Rosby,” Grand Maester Benifer replied.

Stroking his beard, Maegor said, “Lucinda Rosby? I have never heard much about her.”

“She is a woman of proven fertility, Your Grace,” Grand Maester Benifer said. “She has a ten years old daughter.”

“She is a widow, I suppose. Her husband was the elder brother of the current Lord Stokeworth, who died in a hunting accident,” Maegor said, trying to recall the events.

“Ser Bennard Stokeworth was a brave man, Your Grace. He was fond of riding horses and hunting. Unfortunately, that took his life just two years after his marriage. He left behind a three month old daughter and a grieving young wife. Her Ladyship was only eight and ten when she was widowed. She has been a widow ever since,” Grand Maester said.

Maegor looked at him and remarked, “A quite devoted woman or perhaps quite picky.”

“What are the orders for me, Your Grace? Shall I send a raven to Lord Rosby or perhaps a messenger?” Grand Maester asked.

“Send a messenger, Grand Maester. Ravens are comparatively less impressive. Who knows? That picky lady of the Rosbys might find that raven ugly and drive it away without reading the message,” Maegor said with a tone which certainly did not reveal whether he was being sarcastic or serious.

The Grand Maester paid his respects and left the king's chamber.

Maegor stood up a while later and arrived at Queen Rhaena's chamber.

“Beloved Niece!” Maegor exclaimed.

“Not at all beloved Uncle!” Rhaena responded back with an equally enthusiastic tone to mock him.

Maegor grabbed her waist as she tried to wriggle away. He whispered into her ears, “Don't you think that you are being too insolent, my dear wife?”

Rhaena mocked him by saying, “How do you expect me to talk to a kinslayer and usurper?”

“We could have been the most powerful king and queen the seven kingdoms have ever seen. You could have been a good wife to me and given me a son or a daughter or both. And yet, you choose to provoke me, mock me and dig your own grave,” Maegor said tightening his grip on her waist.

Rhaena replied, “I do not want any of that.”

“What do you want then?” Maegor almost screamed.

Rhaena said, “Nothing from you.”

Maegor let go of her. Rhaena took a deep breath and saw her uncle approaching her. She was scared as her uncle was unpredictable and crueler than anyone she had known.

“Do you think that you would have a better life without me?” Maegor asked. “You resent me for sending away your whores whom you call companions. But do you think that oaf of your brother would have allowed that? That fool tried to fight against me atop a dragon which wasn't even half the size of my dragon. You think that he could have kept you happier? You wish for me to die, don't you? You do not wish to give me a child. Isn't that why you have been secretly taking moon tea and poisoning your womb? I know everything. But I stayed silent because I love you and because you are my blood.”

“That is all a lie. You do not love me. You do not love anyone but yourself,” Rhaena said, spitefully.

Maegor replied angrily, “Foolish woman! Do you know what will happen to you if I die today? I made you the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms but if I die today, you will no longer be the queen. You will not be the Queen Mother either, for you have given me no child which I can call mine. If I die, your brother Jaehaerys will be the king and perhaps your sister Alysanne will be the queen or whichever daughter of lickspittle your mother chooses. You will have nothing. No one will care for your opinions anymore and no one will respect you the way they do now. My own mother forged the Seven Kingdoms along with my father, with fire and blood. And yet, when your father was the king, she had no choice but to see her kingdom almost perish into nothing. What have you done compared to her? Your fate will be much worse.”

“Is that why you came here? To remind me of how great you are and how lucky I am to be alive and have you as my husband?” Rhaena asked him with tears in her eyes.

“Oh no, certainly not,” Maegor said. “I came here to tell you that I have decided to take another wife. I have already sent the proposal.”

“And who is that unlucky woman?” Rhaena asked.

“Lady Lucinda of House Rosby,” Maegor replied.

Rhaena burst into laughter on hearing the name.

Confused, Maegor asked her, “What happened? What is the matter?”

“If you hadn't killed that Pentosi witch, she would have certainly told you how her husband died. You do not know that, do you?” Rhaena said, laughing.

Maegor said, “He died in a hunting accident.”

Rhaena laughed again and said, “Things people say to keep their honour. One of my previous companions was Samantha Stokeworth, the younger sister of her husband, Ser Bennard Stokeworth. She told me something that you do not know.”

“And what is that?” Maegor asked.

“Apparently, her husband had a lowborn paramour. Lady Lucinda had that wench killed, and her head and entrails served to her husband when he was about to break fast on the morrow, while on his hunting trip. Ser Bennard was horrified when he saw his paramour's severed head wrapped in her entrails, and died of shock in his tent,” Rhaena said with an evil smile on her face. “I wish you luck, Uncle. I am sure she is the perfect wife for you.”

Rosby Castle :

Lady Prunella Stokeworth, a maid of ten, was the only Stokeworth living in the Rosby Castle. Lady Rosby used to think that it might be more proper if she lived in the Stokeworth Castle with her people but as the girl grew older, that thought vanished. The girl though comely, did not even possess a quarter of the beauty that her mother and Lady Rosby's goodsister, Lucinda Rosby did. However, Prunella seemed lovely enough to Lady Rosby. As a matter of fact, she had even convinced Lady Lucinda to get Prunella betrothed to her son.

It was another evening when Lady Rosby was having a chat with Prunella in her chamber.

“Aunt, is it true that the king wishes to marry my mother?” Prunella asked Lady Rosby.

Lady Rosby said, “It is true, little one. A messenger arrived this morning with a letter from His Grace. If we agree, he intends to wed her two moons later.”

“Will Uncle agree to this?” Prunella asked.

“Oh my sweet summer child, it is not really a proposal. It is an order and your uncle cannot defy it. However, we have to convince your mother as well,” Lady Rosby replied.

Just then, Lady Lucinda entered the chamber. She had just returned from the Castle Sept.

“May I join?” Lucinda asked.

“Sure. Let me pour you a cup of wine,” Lady Rosby said.

Prunella asked her mother, “Mother, have you heard about the proposal that came from the king?”

“I have,” Lucinda replied without a visible expression on her face.

“Are you going to reject the proposal?” Prunella asked.

Lucinda chuckled and said, “Foolish girl! Why would I refuse to become the queen?”

..

..

..

..

To be continued

[coineagan]

King Maegor I Targaryen

Son of King Aegon I Targaryen & Queen Visenya Targaryen.

Half-brother of King Aenys I Targaryen.

Husband of Queen Ceryse Hightower, Queen Alys Harroway, Queen Tyanna of the Tower, Queen Elinor Costayne, Queen Rhaena Targaryen & Queen Jeyne Westerling.

He had no children.

Reigned as King from 42 - 48 AC.

Dragonrider of Balerion.

[hisfavegirl]

Obsession's Edge - Maegor Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Summary : He was a man of war, a conqueror forged in battle and bloodshed. But tonight, as he stood before you, his eyes held something else—something more dangerous than rage. Expectation. You knew what he meant. Your fate had been decided long before this moment. You were to be the last. The final wife. The one who would give him what he desired most. A son. A legacy.

Word Count : 8k

Maegor Targaryen Masterlist.

House Of The Dragon Masterlist.

and also big thanks to @zaldritzosrose for let me using yours beautiful dividers 🫶🏻.

The scene unfolds in the dimly lit halls of the Red Keep, where tension clings to the air like a heavy shroud. You stand at the edge of the grand chamber, your hands clasped tightly in front of you as your eyes rest on the imposing figure of your brother, Maegor. His towering frame radiates power, and the infamous Blackfyre sword in his hand glints ominously in the flickering torchlight.

Once again, Maegor’s guards carry the lifeless body of his latest wife, his fifth attempt at securing a son and heir. The sight is as grim as it is familiar. The bloodstains on her pale dress speak of another failed birth, another sacrifice in Maegor’s unrelenting quest for a legacy.

Your stomach churns as you glance at your mother, Visenya, who stands by the hearth. She holds Maegor’s infant daughter—another girl—in her arms. Her face is a mask of cold indifference, her piercing gaze fixed on her son. The child wails softly, but Visenya pays her no mind, cradling the babe as if she were holding a mere object, not flesh and blood.

You take a hesitant step forward. “Brother,” you begin, your voice steady but cautious. “How much longer will this… madness continue? The gods—”

“The gods have cursed me!” Maegor growls, his voice echoing through the chamber. His knuckles whiten as he grips Blackfyre tighter. “They deny me a son, but I will not be denied. I am the blood of the dragon. I will have an heir.”

“And how many more must die for you to prove that?” you ask softly, though your words are like daggers. Your heart aches at the scene before you, but you know better than to openly defy him. Maegor’s wrath is as legendary as his strength.

His dark eyes meet yours, and for a moment, there’s a flicker of something— frustration, desperation. But it’s gone in an instant, replaced by the familiar coldness. “You speak of things you do not understand,” he snaps, his tone brooking no argument.

Visenya finally breaks her silence. “Enough,” she says, her voice calm but commanding. “This is not the time to quarrel. There is work to be done.”

You glance at your mother, noting the faint lines of weariness on her face. Even Visenya Targaryen, the indomitable matriarch, cannot entirely mask the strain of watching her son spiral further into darkness.

Maegor steps closer to you, his imposing presence casting a long shadow over your smaller frame. “Do not speak to me of curses or consequences,” he hisses. “You do not bear the weight of a throne, sister. You do not understand the price of power.”

Your throat tightens, but you hold your ground. “And you do not understand the price of the lives you destroy,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, silence stretches between you. The tension is palpable, the air thick with unspoken words. Then, without another word, Maegor turns on his heel and storms out of the chamber, the echo of his boots fading into the distance.

Visenya approaches you, the infant still cradled in her arms. Her expression softens slightly as she looks at you. “Do not provoke him,” she says quietly. “It will do no good.”

“And neither will enabling him,” you counter, though your tone lacks the fire of before.

She sighs, a rare sign of weariness. “We are Targaryens. We endure. We survive. That is what matters.”

As she walks away, the child’s cries growing fainter, you’re left alone in the chamber. The weight of your family’s legacy presses down on you, and you can’t help but wonder: How many more will suffer before the madness ends?

The corridors of the Red Keep were eerily silent as you made your way back to your chambers. The events of the night weighed heavily on your mind. You tried to banish the thoughts of your mother and Maegor, of the infant girl whose cries still echoed faintly in your ears. You didn’t want to think about what would become of the child—or what decisions your family might make under the cover of darkness.

Entering your chamber, you let out a soft sigh and closed the heavy wooden door behind you, shutting out the world beyond. The flickering light of the fireplace cast long shadows across the room, offering a small semblance of warmth in the cold, unforgiving keep.

You approached the dressing table and began to undo the clasps of your gown. Your hands moved mechanically, your mind still racing with questions you dared not voice. Was it truly the gods who cursed your brother, or was this all a punishment of his own making?

The silk of your gown slipped from your shoulders and pooled around your feet. You exchanged it for a simpler nightgown, one that offered comfort over extravagance. The soft fabric brushed against your skin as you pulled it over your head, and for a moment, you felt a sense of relief, however fleeting.

But before you could settle in, a quiet sound behind you made you freeze—a faint shuffling, as if someone was in the room. Your heart quickened, and you turned sharply, eyes scanning the dimly lit space. Then, you saw it: the hidden door in the far corner of your chamber, one you hadn’t even known existed until recently, creaked open.

From the shadows emerged Maegor, his imposing figure casting a long shadow on the stone floor. He stepped into the room with a purposeful stride, his expression unreadable, though his eyes were intense. He had shed his armor, but Blackfyre was still strapped to his side, a constant reminder of who he was.

“Brother,” you said cautiously, your voice low. “What are you doing here? It’s late.”

He didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he closed the hidden door behind him, the soft click echoing in the quiet room. His gaze swept over you, taking in your disheveled appearance and the soft fabric of your nightgown.

“You shouldn’t leave yourself so unguarded,” he said finally, his tone matter-of-fact but carrying an edge.

You frowned. “I am in my own chambers. Do you expect an assassin to crawl out of the shadows?”

“In this keep?” he said with a dry chuckle. “You’d be a fool to think yourself safe, even here.”

His words sent a chill down your spine, but you tried not to show it. “Why are you here, Maegor? Did you come to discuss safety, or is there something else on your mind?”

He moved closer, his heavy boots barely making a sound against the stone floor. “Do you think me a monster?” he asked abruptly, his voice low but sharp.

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated, searching for the right words. “I think…” you began slowly, “that you’ve done monstrous things. But I also think the weight of the crown has hardened you more than it should.”

His jaw tightened, and for a moment, he looked away, as if considering your words. Then he turned back to you, his eyes burning with an intensity that made your breath hitch.

“I do what must be done,” he said firmly, though there was a flicker of something—doubt, perhaps—in his voice. “Do you think I enjoy this? Do you think I take pleasure in burying wife after wife, child after child?”

“I don’t know what you feel,” you admitted softly. “You don’t let anyone see that part of you.”

He stepped closer, his presence almost suffocating. “And what would it change if they did? Would it bring me a son? Would it silence the whispers of weakness?”

“No,” you said firmly, meeting his gaze. “But it might remind people that you’re still human. That you still bleed like the rest of us.”

His lips pressed into a thin line, and he studied you for a long moment. Then, without warning, he reached out and cupped your face in his hand. The gesture was almost tender, a stark contrast to the coldness you had come to associate with him.

“You’re different,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. “You see me, not just the crown. Not just the king.”

“Because I’m your sister,” you said quietly, your voice steady despite the storm of emotions swirling inside you. “And because I know there’s still something good in you, no matter how deeply you’ve buried it.”

For a moment, it looked as though he might say something more. But instead, he released you and stepped back, the moment of vulnerability passing as quickly as it had come.

“Get some rest,” he said, his tone colder now, though there was a hint of softness beneath it. “Tomorrow will bring more battles, as it always does.”

You took a deep breath and turned toward Maegor before he could step back into the hidden passage.

“Stay,” you said softly, your voice breaking the silence.

He turned to look at you, his sharp features shadowed in the dim candlelight. “It’s late,” he replied curtly, his tone clipped. “You should rest. So should I.”

“I’m asking you to stay with me,” you said, stepping closer. Your voice was steady, though your heart was racing. “You’re my brother, Maegor. I don’t mind your company, and you need the rest just as much as I do.”

He hesitated, his piercing eyes narrowing slightly. “I am not in the habit of seeking comfort,” he said gruffly, though the way his hand lingered on the hilt of Blackfyre betrayed some inner conflict.

“You don’t have to seek it,” you replied gently, moving closer until you stood directly in front of him. “I’m offering it to you.”

For a long moment, he said nothing. The air between you was tense, and you could see the walls he kept around himself, the ones he refused to let anyone breach. But then, with a reluctant sigh, he nodded.

“Fine,” he muttered, as though he was doing you a favor. “But don’t think this will become a habit.”

You gave him a small, reassuring smile. “Of course not.”

As he stood there, unmoving, you reached for the heavy belt that secured Blackfyre at his hip. Your fingers brushed against his as you began to unfasten it, and for a moment, his hand lingered before he let you take over. Carefully, you slid the belt free and placed it on the small table near your bed.

“You don’t always have to carry it, you know,” you said, glancing back at him as you gestured to Blackfyre.

He let out a low, humorless chuckle. “I do,” he replied simply. “It’s who I am.”

“You’re more than that sword, Maegor,” you said, your tone soft but firm. “Even if you don’t believe it.”

You paused, your breath hitching as Maegor’s words hung in the air.

“Perhaps the reason my wives have failed me,” he said, his voice low and almost thoughtful, “is because they are not of the blood of the dragon. But you…”

He let the statement linger, and you turned your head to look at him. His piercing gaze met yours, unflinching, filled with something you couldn’t quite name.

“Maegor,” you said quietly, your voice trembling slightly. “You can’t mean that.”

“Why not?” he replied, his tone unwavering. He leaned closer, his hand sliding to your arm and pulling you gently into his embrace. “You are of the blood of Old Valyria, born to the same fire and blood that flows through my veins. If anyone could give me a son—a true heir—it would be you.”

Your mind raced, his words sinking in. You had always known that your mother, had plans for you—plans tied to your brother’s throne. She had often spoken of uniting the bloodlines to strengthen House Targaryen. But hearing Maegor speak of it so plainly, so deliberately, made your chest tighten.

“That’s why Mother promised me to you,” you murmured, your voice barely audible.

He nodded, his hand moving to gently cradle the side of your face. “She sees what I see,” he said, his voice softer now. “The strength in you. The fire.”

You tried to look away, but he held you there, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “Do you think I want this, Maegor?” you asked, your tone laced with a mixture of uncertainty and defiance.

“I think,” he began, his lips brushing against your temple as he spoke, “that it is not about what we want, but what we must do—for the house, for the throne, and for the bloodline.”

You shivered as his words sank in, and though you wanted to push him away, his warmth was oddly comforting. He tightened his hold on you, his strength both intimidating and reassuring.

“You could give me what no one else has,” he whispered against your ear, his voice sending a chill down your spine. “A son. An heir. You could ensure the strength of our house for generations to come.”

“Maegor…” you started, but your words faltered as his hand moved to your waist, pulling you closer.

“Think about it,” he said, his tone still calm but laced with something darker, something possessive. “It is your destiny. You were meant for me.”

You felt your resolve waver, torn between the weight of his words and the emotions swirling within you. You had grown up knowing your place in the family, knowing what was expected of you. But this… this was more than you had ever anticipated.

“I don’t know if I can do this,” you admitted, your voice breaking slightly.

“You can,” he said firmly, his lips brushing against your forehead. “And you will. Together, we will be unstoppable.”

For a moment, you allowed yourself to lean into his embrace, your mind a storm of doubt and confusion. Whether it was fate or folly, you couldn’t yet say. But in that moment, as his arms tightened around you and his whispers filled the silence, it felt as though you had no choice at all.

You stood frozen as Maegor’s words hung in the air, the mention of your mother, making your chest tighten. You did respect her—more than anyone. She was the guiding force of your life, her word as close to law as the Seven themselves. Refusing her was unthinkable. Maegor knew this, and the faint smirk on his face revealed he was fully aware of how deeply her influence bound you.

Maegor stepped closer, his fingers tilting your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You will not refuse me,” he murmured, though there was no real question in his voice. “You would not dare defy mother’s wishes.” he murmured, his voice low and confident.

You glanced at him, lips parting as if to protest, but no words came out. He was right. You could already hear your mother’s voice in your head, her arguments laid out plainly, reminding you of duty and legacy.

Maegor stepped closer, his imposing frame towering over you. “You’ve always followed her commands,” he continued, his voice softening but losing none of its authority. “You’ve never failed her before. And this? This is what she wants.”

Your silence made him chuckle—a rare, low sound that startled you. He was so often stoic, cold even, but now there was something different in him. Something almost… warm.

He raised a hand, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. “You think too much,” he said, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Just let it happen.”

Before you could respond, his lips were on yours. It was not the demanding kiss you might have expected from him—it was slow, careful, and deliberate, as if he had been waiting for this moment for years. His hands cupped your face, holding you gently but firmly, ensuring you couldn’t pull away even if you wanted to.

You froze, unsure of what to do. But as the kiss deepened, you felt yourself melting into it despite the swirl of thoughts in your mind. The warmth of his lips, the way his touch seemed to steady your trembling form—it was disarming.

When he finally pulled back, his violet eyes bore into yours, searching for any sign of rejection. But you remained silent, your breath uneven, your cheeks flushed.

“You see,” he said softly, his thumb brushing against your jawline. “It feels… right. Doesn’t it?”

You swallowed hard, unable to deny the strange pull you felt toward him. He had always been a part of your life, a figure of strength and dominance. And now, as he stood before you, so certain and unyielding, it was as if the world itself had conspired to place you in his arms.

“What if I’m not enough?” you whispered, barely able to meet his gaze. “What if I fail you, too?”

His expression softened, his hands moving to your shoulders. “You won’t,” he said firmly. “You are of the blood of the dragon. My equal. My match. Together, we’ll do what no one else has.”

You felt a shiver run down your spine as his words sank in. There was no escaping this—no denying what your mother had already decided for you, what Maegor had clearly longed for.

As he leaned in again, his lips brushing against yours in a way that made your knees weak, you realized that this was no longer just about duty or tradition. This was about Maegor’s unwavering belief in you, his determination to claim you as his own. And for the first time, you wondered if perhaps you didn’t mind being claimed.

Maegor’s hands gripped your waist as he effortlessly lifted you, settling you onto his lap as if you weighed nothing. The strength in his touch was undeniable, and yet there was something careful about the way he held you, as though you were the most precious thing he’d ever claimed.

Your hands instinctively wrapped around his neck, fingers tangling in the thick, silver strands of his hair. He pulled you closer, his lips pressing firmly against yours, deepening the kiss with an intensity that left you breathless. His confidence was overwhelming, but it was also intoxicating, pulling you further into his orbit.

You hesitated for only a moment before giving in, letting yourself lean into the kiss. When your lips finally began to move against his, Maegor let out a low hum of approval. His grip on your waist tightened, pulling you closer until there was no space left between your bodies.

He pulled back just enough to breathe, his lips brushing against yours as he spoke, his voice low and laced with amusement. “There she is,” he murmured, his smirk unmistakable. “I knew you wouldn’t resist me for long.”

Your breath hitched at his words, the weight of them sinking into your chest. He leaned in again, his lips ghosting over your jawline, trailing down to the curve of your neck. You gasped as his teeth grazed your skin, his tongue quickly soothing the spot he’d bitten.

“Maegor…” you whispered, unsure whether it was meant as a plea or a protest.

He chuckled against your neck, his hands roaming over the curve of your hips. “Say my name again,” he commanded softly, his tone sending shivers down your spine.

You hesitated, but when he nipped at your skin again, a quiet, breathless “Maegor” escaped your lips. He growled in approval, his grip on you tightening as he kissed his way back to your lips.

“You’re mine,” he said against your mouth, his tone firm and unyielding. “Do you understand that?”

You nodded, your mind spinning as his words and actions consumed you. His hands moved back to your waist, holding you steady as he pressed you closer to him.

“You’re the only one who can give me what I want,” he continued, his lips brushing against yours with every word. “A son. A true heir. And I’ll make sure of it.”

His words should have frightened you, but instead, they filled you with a strange sense of purpose—a feeling that you belonged here, with him. When his lips met yours again, you found yourself kissing him back with a fervor that matched his own, your hands tightening in his hair as the room around you seemed to fade away.

“Good girl,” he murmured, his voice filled with satisfaction as he pulled back just enough to look into your eyes. “You’ll see. This is where you were always meant to be—by my side, as my queen.”

And for the first time, you didn’t feel the urge to argue. Instead, you leaned into him, letting his words wash over you as you surrendered to the fire that burned between you.

Maegor’s hands were rough as they slid up your back, pulling your nightgown up and over your head in one swift motion. The cool air of the room brushed against your skin, but it was quickly replaced by the heat of his touch. His eyes darkened as they roamed over you, his lips curling into a smirk before he leaned in to claim your lips once more.

This time, his kiss was hungrier, more demanding, as if he was staking his claim all over again. You responded with equal fervor, your fingers threading through his hair and pulling lightly, earning a low growl from deep in his chest.

“You’re playing with fire,” he murmured against your lips, his voice laced with warning and amusement.

You smirked in return, rolling your hips slightly against his lap. The way his body reacted to you—his sharp intake of breath, the way his grip on your hips tightened—only emboldened you further. “Maybe I like the flames,” you whispered, your tone teasing as you brushed your lips against his again.

His laughter was low and dangerous, a sound that sent shivers down your spine. “Careful,” he said, his voice a soft growl. “You keep pushing me, and I won’t be able to hold back.”

“Maybe I don’t want you to,” you replied, your tone filled with challenge.

That was all the permission he needed. With a swift motion, he shifted, pinning you beneath him on the bed. His hands framed your face as he kissed you deeply, his body pressing against yours with an intensity that left you breathless.

“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he said as he pulled back slightly, his gaze locking onto yours. “But don’t think I’ll stop once I start. You’re mine, and I’ll make sure you never forget it.”

You gasped as his lips found your neck, trailing heated kisses along your skin. His hands explored your body with a mixture of gentleness and possession, leaving no doubt in your mind that he meant every word he said.

“Maegor…” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you arched beneath him.

Hearing his name from your lips only seemed to spur him on. His lips curled into a smirk against your skin as he moved lower, his hands sliding to grip your hips. “Say it again,” he commanded softly, his voice filled with raw desire.

“Maegor,” you repeated, your voice trembling with anticipation.

He growled in satisfaction, his grip tightening as he began to guide your movements against him. The fire in his eyes was unmistakable as he watched your every reaction, his own control slipping with every passing moment.

“You wanted this,” he said, his tone low and dangerous as he leaned closer. “And now you’re going to take everything I give you.”

And as his words sank in, you realized there was no going back—not that you wanted to. You surrendered to him completely, letting him pull you deeper into the flames as the night stretched on.

Maegor’s eyes burned with intensity as he discarded his trousers, his movements deliberate and unhurried. You couldn’t help but smirk, shifting your hips slightly to tease him. The way his jaw tightened and his nostrils flared only encouraged you further, knowing you were testing the limits of his control.

“You think this is a game?” he asked, his voice low and rough as he stepped closer.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Why, brother, I have no idea what you mean.”

He growled, a sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “You’ll regret that,” he said, his tone a dangerous promise.

Before you could respond, his hands were on your hips, pulling you toward him with a force that made you gasp. In one swift, decisive motion, he buried himself within you, tearing a cry from your lips as pain and pleasure collided.

Your hands clutched at his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin as you struggled to adjust. “Maegor!” you cried out, your voice trembling.

He laughed softly, the sound dark and laced with satisfaction. “Does it hurt, little dragon?” he murmured, brushing his lips against your ear. “Good. You’ll remember this moment every time you think you can defy me.”

Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as your body stretched to accommodate him, the sensation overwhelming and unfamiliar. “You’re… you’re too much,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper.

He grab your cheek, forcing you to meet his gaze. “You’ll take all of me,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You were made for this—for me.”

You whimpered as he began to move, each thrust sending a new wave of sensation through your body. The initial pain began to fade, replaced by a heat that spread through your veins like wildfire.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice filled with both admiration and possession. “So beautiful, even when you’re trembling beneath me.”

Your cheeks flushed at his words, but you couldn’t deny the way they made your heart race. Despite his roughness, there was a strange sense of care in the way he touched you, as though he was staking his claim but also ensuring you wouldn’t break beneath him.

As the rhythm of his movements increased, your cries turned into soft moans, your body slowly surrendering to the intensity of the moment. “Maegor…” you whispered, your voice shaky but filled with need.

He smirked, leaning down to capture your lips in a fierce kiss. “That’s it,” he murmured against your mouth. “Say my name again.”

“Maegor,” you repeated, your voice louder this time, filled with both pain and pleasure.

His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he thrust deeper. “You’ll learn to love this,” he said, his tone both commanding and soothing. “And soon, you’ll crave it as much as I do.”

You could only nod, your body and mind completely consumed by him. In that moment, there was nothing else—just the two of you, bound together in a way that felt both terrifying and inevitable.

Maegor’s heavy, calloused hands pinned your wrists above your head, his grip firm but not painful. His towering form loomed over you, his silver hair falling into his face as he gazed down at you with a mixture of triumph and hunger. You had always been the one to tease, the one to provoke—but now, under him, you were at his mercy.

“You’ve always been so bold,” he murmured, his voice a low rumble that sent shivers down your spine. “Always looking for my attention, always testing me.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but the words turned into a gasp as his hips moved, a sharp thrust that left you breathless. Your body arched instinctively, pressing closer to him as he continued his relentless pace.

“Look at you now,” he said, his tone laced with dark amusement. “So quiet. Has the little dragon finally met her match?”

Your cheeks burned at his teasing, but you couldn’t form a coherent reply. Every movement, every thrust, sent waves of pleasure coursing through you, making it impossible to think clearly.

“Maegor…” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling.

He smirked, leaning down until his face was just inches from yours. “Say it louder,” he commanded, his tone leaving no room for defiance.

“Maegor,” you repeated, your voice cracking as he drove deeper, his movements precise and unyielding.

“That’s better,” he said, his smirk widening. “You look beautiful like this, you know. Completely mine.”

You tried to squirm beneath him, your body desperate for some sort of release, but his strength kept you firmly in place. His hands tightened around your wrists as he held them above your head, his grip a reminder of just how powerless you were in his grasp.

“You’ve always thought you were in control,” he continued, his voice low and dangerous. “But here, like this, you belong to me.”

His words sent a thrill through you, even as you tried to deny the effect they had on you. “You’re insufferable,” you muttered, though your voice lacked any real conviction.

Maegor chuckled, the sound deep and rich. “And yet, you can’t get enough of me.”

Before you could respond, he shifted his weight slightly, angling his hips in a way that had you crying out his name again. The sound only seemed to spur him on, his movements becoming rougher, more deliberate.

“You drive me mad,” he admitted, his voice barely audible over the sound of your ragged breaths. “But I’ll make sure you never forget who you belong to.”

His free hand trailed down your side, his fingers brushing over your skin in a way that made you shiver. “Every inch of you,” he said, his voice filled with a dark promise. “Every sound you make, every breath you take—it’s all mine.”

You couldn’t argue with him, not when your body was betraying you so completely. Instead, you surrendered to the overwhelming sensations, letting Maegor claim you in every way he desired. And as his laughter echoed in your ears, you knew there would be no going back.

Maegor’s relentless pace left your mind spinning, every sharp thrust erasing any coherent thought from your head. The world around you blurred, and all that remained was the man above you—his weight, his heat, and the overwhelming power of his movements.

“Maegor…” you whimpered, your voice breaking as you clung to him, your nails digging into his broad shoulders.

“Say it louder,” he demanded, his tone a deep growl as his piercing gaze locked onto yours. His face was a mix of smug satisfaction and raw intensity, his silver hair damp with sweat as it clung to his forehead.

You cried out his name again, louder this time, unable to stop yourself as he buried himself deeper, the force of his thrusts stealing the breath from your lungs. Maegor grinned, his lips curling into a dark smirk as he watched you unravel beneath him.

“Look at you,” he said, his voice thick with pride and something darker. “Completely at my mercy. Does it drive you mad, little dragon? Knowing that no one else could ever ruin you like this?”

Your only response was a strangled moan as your body arched into his, seeking more of him despite the overwhelming intensity. Maegor leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he growled, “You’re mine, now and always. Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped, your voice trembling with a mixture of desperation and surrender.

“That’s right,” he purred, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. His hands gripped your waist tightly, holding you in place as he drove into you with even more force, drawing another scream from your lips.

“You feel so perfect,” he said, his tone softening just slightly, though the fire in his eyes never dimmed. “Like you were made for me. Tell me, little dragon—do you feel it too? That you were meant to be mine?”

You nodded frantically, unable to find the words as waves of pleasure crashed over you, leaving you trembling in his arms. Maegor chuckled darkly at your helplessness, his grip tightening on your hips as he pushed you closer to the edge.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his lips trailing down your neck. “Lost in me, lost to me.”

As you cried out again, your body clinging to his in desperation, Maegor groaned, the sound low and primal as he felt your walls tighten around him. His pace faltered for just a moment before he drove into you one last time, his head falling to your shoulder as he growled your name.

The room was filled with the sounds of your labored breathing as the two of you came down from the heights of your passion. Maegor didn’t pull away immediately, instead leaning down to press a lingering kiss to your lips, his touch surprisingly tender after the intensity of his movements.

“You’re mine,” he whispered again, his voice soft but firm, as if sealing a promise. Maegor smirked, his confidence returning as he gazed down at you. “I’ve made my claim on you, little dragon. Don’t ever forget that.”

As you lay in his arms, your body still trembling from his touch, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of inevitability. You were his now, completely and utterly, and there was no going back.

Maegor’s strong hands gripped your waist tightly, holding you in place as he lifted you with ease and settled you on his lap. You gasped, your hands bracing against his broad shoulders for support, but before you could utter a word, his deep, commanding voice interrupted.

“If I am to have a son, little dragon,” he growled, his violet eyes dark and blazing with determination, “then I will not stop now.”

Your lips parted to protest, but the words never left your mouth. In one swift motion, Maegor thrust himself upward, pulling your hips down to meet him. The intensity of the movement made your head fall back as a loud cry escaped your lips. The sensation of him so deep, so overwhelming, was too much for your trembling body to process.

“Maegor!” you screamed, clutching onto his shoulders for dear life as he began to move, his pace relentless and unyielding.

“You can take it,” he said, his tone almost mocking, though there was an edge of possessiveness in his voice that sent shivers through you. “You were made for this—made for me.”

Your breathing came in short, desperate gasps as he guided your movements, his hands firmly holding your waist as he controlled the rhythm. The combination of his strength and the sheer intensity of his movements left you unable to do anything but follow his lead.

“Look at me,” he demanded, his voice low and commanding. When you didn’t respond, too lost in the sensation, he reached up and tilted your chin toward him, forcing you to meet his gaze. “I said, look at me.”

Your eyes fluttered open, meeting his piercing violet stare. The raw hunger in his expression made your heart race even faster.

“There you are,” he murmured, his tone softening ever so slightly. “I want to see that pretty face of yours when I give you what we both know you want.”

You whimpered in response, your hands gripping his shoulders even tighter as he pulled you down onto him again, deeper than before. The new angle sent shockwaves through your body, and you couldn’t stop the loud moan that escaped your lips.

“To much?” he asked, his smirk returning as he studied your reaction. “Or is it exactly what you need?”

“Maegor…” you whispered, your voice trembling as you struggled to catch your breath.

“That’s it,” he said, his voice a low rumble as he leaned forward, his lips brushing against your ear. “Say my name, little dragon. Say it so the gods themselves hear you.”

You obeyed, crying out his name over and over as he continued to guide your movements, his strength and determination leaving you completely at his mercy. His hands roamed your body, exploring every curve as if claiming you all over again.

“You’re perfect,” he growled, his lips trailing down your neck. “Perfect for me. Perfect to bear my sons.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t hold back the way your body responded to him. Maegor chuckled darkly, clearly pleased by the effect he had on you.

As he quickened his pace, his movements became even more demanding, pushing you closer to the edge. Your cries grew louder, filling the room as he drove you higher and higher.

“Give it to me,” he commanded, his voice thick with need. “Give me everything.”

And with one final, powerful thrust, you shattered in his arms, your body trembling uncontrollably as waves of pleasure washed over you. Maegor followed shortly after, his grip on your waist tightening as he buried himself as deep as he could, a low, guttural groan escaping his lips.

As the two of you came down from the intensity of the moment, Maegor’s hold on you remained firm, his forehead resting against yours as he caught his breath.

“You’ll give me a son,” he murmured, his tone resolute. It wasn’t a question—it was a statement, one he believed with every fiber of his being.

You nodded weakly, still trembling in his arms as you leaned against his chest, too overwhelmed to respond with words. Maegor smirked, pressing a kiss to your temple as he tightened his embrace.

“This is only the beginning,” he promised, his voice filled with dark determination.

Maegor didn’t give you a moment to recover. His strength was overwhelming as he lifted you effortlessly, his hands gripping your thighs firmly, and carried you to the sturdy table in the center of the room. Before you could fully register what was happening, he placed you down with precision, positioning you exactly how he wanted.

“Did you think I was done with you, little dragon?” he asked, his voice a low, teasing growl.

You opened your mouth to respond, but all that came out was a sharp gasp as he buried himself inside you again in one swift, forceful motion. Your hands instinctively reached out, grasping the edges of the table for support as he set a punishing pace, his movements quick and unrelenting.

“Maegor!” you cried out, your voice echoing in the chamber, but your pleas only seemed to spur him on.

“Louder,” he demanded, his tone thick with authority. “Let everyone in the Keep know who you belong to.”

You clung to him, your nails digging into his shoulders as he leaned over you, his large frame completely dominating yours. The table creaked beneath the force of his movements, but you didn’t care. Your body burned, overwhelmed by the intensity of it all, and yet you didn’t want him to stop.

Suddenly, Maegor’s hands gripped your waist, lifting you slightly before pushing you to lie flat against the table. Your gaze shifted, and that’s when you saw it—the large mirror across the room, perfectly angled to reflect the two of you.

Your cheeks flushed a deep crimson as you took in the sight. Your disheveled hair, your trembling body, and Maegor’s powerful figure towering over you, his muscles flexing with every movement. His face was a mixture of focus and satisfaction, his violet eyes locking with yours in the mirror.

“Look at us,” he said, his voice rough yet filled with pride. “See what we are.”

You whimpered, overwhelmed by the rawness of the moment. Your arms reached out, wrapping around his neck as you pulled him closer, hiding your face in his shoulder to escape the intensity of your own reflection.

“Oh no, little dragon,” he murmured, chuckling darkly as he lifted your chin with one hand, forcing you to meet his gaze in the mirror. “Don’t look away. Watch how perfectly you take me.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and you couldn’t stop the way your body reacted, arching into him as he continued his relentless pace. His free hand traveled to your hip, gripping it tightly as he adjusted the angle, drawing out even louder cries from you.

“Maegor, please…” you whispered, though you weren’t sure what you were begging for.

“Please what?” he asked, his tone mocking yet filled with hunger. “Tell me what you want.”

“I-I can’t,” you stammered, your voice trembling as he pushed you further and further toward your limit.

“You can,” he countered, his lips brushing against your ear. “You will.”

Your body trembled beneath him, your mind clouded with nothing but him—his touch, his voice, his presence. The sight of the two of you in the mirror only added to the overwhelming sensation, and you felt yourself nearing the edge once again.

“Say it,” Maegor demanded, his voice a low growl as he drove you closer and closer to the brink.

“I’m yours,” you finally gasped, your voice breaking as the words spilled from your lips. “I’m yours, Maegor.”

A triumphant smirk spread across his face as he slammed into you one final time, sending you spiraling over the edge. Your cries filled the room, your body shaking uncontrollably as you clung to him, your nails digging into his skin.

Maegor followed moments later, his grip on your hips tightening as he buried himself as deep as possible, a guttural groan escaping his lips. His forehead pressed against yours as he caught his breath, his hands gently stroking your sides as you lay sprawled on the table beneath him.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice softer now but no less commanding. “Always.”

You nodded weakly, your body too exhausted to respond with words. Maegor smiled, brushing a strand of hair from your face before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“And I’m not done with you yet,” he added, a mischievous glint in his eye as he lifted you once more, carrying you back toward the bed.

Maegor showed no mercy as he pressed your trembling body into the mattress, his large hands gripping your hips tightly while his movements remained unrelenting. You were sprawled out beneath him, barely able to catch your breath as he continued his punishing pace.

"Maegor… please…" you whispered weakly, your voice muffled by the soft fabric of the bedding.

"Please, what?" he asked with a mocking laugh, his tone dark and teasing as he leaned over you. His weight pressed you further into the bed, his breath hot against your ear. "Do you want me to stop?"

You knew he didn’t expect a reply—he already knew the answer. The smirk on his face widened as he felt you unconsciously arch your back, your body betraying you as it sought more of him despite the overwhelming sensations.

"That's what I thought," he growled, one hand slipping around your waist to pull you closer, making his thrusts even deeper. "You’re mine, little dragon. You’ll take everything I give you."

You could only whimper in response, your hands gripping the sheets tightly as your mind spiraled into a haze of pleasure and exhaustion. Every inch of your body felt consumed by him—by his strength, his dominance, and the sheer heat of his touch.

When you tried to lift your head, Maegor’s hand came to rest on the back of it, guiding you to stay down. "No, stay just like this," he ordered, his voice softer now but still firm. "You look perfect beneath me."

"Maegor…" you whispered again, your voice breaking as you tried to form coherent words.

"Say it," he demanded, his tone sharp yet filled with desire. "Say you're mine."

"I’m yours," you gasped, the words tumbling out without hesitation.

His deep chuckle rumbled through the room, and he rewarded your surrender with a sharp thrust that made you cry out his name. "That’s right," he murmured, his voice filled with pride. "You’ll never belong to anyone else."

Despite your exhaustion, you couldn’t help but shiver at the possessiveness in his tone. He leaned down further, his lips brushing against the back of your neck as his pace quickened once again.

"Look at you," Maegor muttered, his voice filled with admiration as his hands slid over your trembling form. "So beautiful. So perfect. You were made for me, weren’t you?"

You couldn’t respond—your voice was lost to the overwhelming sensations coursing through your body. All you could do was grip the sheets tighter, your body giving in completely to his relentless claim.

When he finally reached his peak, his grip on your hips tightened, and he buried himself as deeply as possible to make sure that he's seed go deep in you, a guttural groan escaping his lips. The sheer intensity of the moment left you breathless, your body trembling as he collapsed beside you, his arm draped possessively over your waist.

"You’ll never escape me, little dragon," he murmured, his voice soft but laced with a promise. "Not now. Not ever."

You closed your eyes, your heart racing as you felt the warmth of his presence beside you. Despite everything, you couldn’t deny the way your body craved his touch, the way his words seemed to root themselves deep within your soul.

Maegor shifted his weight, rolling your trembling body to face him. His piercing gaze roamed over you—your flushed cheeks, disheveled hair, and quivering form. A smirk spread across his lips, a dark chuckle rumbling deep in his chest.

"Look at you," he said, his voice filled with both amusement and satisfaction. "Utterly spent, yet still so beautiful."

You tried to catch your breath, your chest rising and falling rapidly as you met his gaze. "Maegor…" you whispered, your voice barely audible, a mix of exhaustion and disbelief.

He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours with surprising tenderness. "You’re perfect like this," he murmured, his hand trailing down your side, sending shivers through your already sensitive body. "Made for me. And only me."

Just as you thought he would let you rest, he pulled back slightly, his smirk fading as his sharp eyes traveled lower. His expression darkened when he saw the evidence of his release dripping from your swollen cunt. A low growl escaped his throat, filled with frustration and possessiveness.

"No," he muttered, almost to himself. "I won’t have that."

Before you could process his words, he pressed you down firmly against the bed, his hands gripping your thighs to spread you open. You gasped, weakly reaching for him, but he didn’t give you a moment to protest.

"Maegor, wait—"

He didn’t. With a deliberate, forceful motion, he pushed his fingers inside you, his touch firm yet calculated. You cried out softly, your body jerking at the sudden intrusion.

"Be still," he ordered, his voice low but commanding. "I won’t have what’s mine dripping away so easily."

Your head fell back against the pillows, your body arching instinctively as he worked with a steady rhythm, pushing his release back into you. The sensation was overwhelming, sending a mix of pleasure and overstimulation coursing through your nerves.

"Maegor, I can’t…" you whimpered, your voice trailing off into a broken sob.

He leaned closer, his face hovering just above yours as his free hand cupped your cheek. "You can," he whispered, his tone surprisingly gentle despite the fire burning in his eyes. "And you will. You’ll take all of me, no matter how many times it takes."

Your breath hitched as his movements became slower, more deliberate, his gaze never leaving yours. "You’ll give me a son," he murmured, his lips brushing against your temple. "I’ll make sure of it."

A tear slipped down your cheek, and Maegor leaned in to kiss it away, his lips lingering on your skin. "Don’t cry, little dragon," he said softly, his voice almost tender. "This is what you were meant for. To carry my blood. To give me what no other could."

His words, though harsh, carried an undeniable weight. You felt the heat of his possessiveness searing into your very being, leaving you no room to escape his claim.

When he finally pulled back, satisfied, he gathered your trembling form into his arms, holding you close. His hand rested protectively over your stomach, and he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead.

"You’ll see," he said quietly, his voice carrying an edge of certainty. "You’ll give me the legacy I deserve. And you’ll be the queen by my side when I do."

Exhausted and overwhelmed, you could only nod weakly, the gravity of his words settling deep within you as sleep began to overtake your tired body.

Tag List : @danytar @hangmanscoming @julessworldd @yazzzmints @callsignwidow @giirlinblack @searatarg @vaelry

[ashblooddragons]

My Heart, My Ruin (Chapter 3/?)

(Sorry! I know it's a day late but yesterday was my family's Thanksgiving so I didn't have time to write sadly. but I got this chapter out today so hopefully it is alright lol)

32 ac Dragonstone 

Rhaella's pov

Me and Rhaena stand side by side as we watch two dragons feast upon horses, pigs, and what seems to be a squid but I can't be sure. We've both been desperate for a dragon, we both have been feeling a pull at our souls for far too long to ignore.

“How do we do this? Especially while wearing such unfit clothes?” Rhaena asks, turning to look at me and our outfits. 

I'm wearing a light blue dress with silver embroidered flowers and dragons along the sleeves, neckline, and hem of my dress. And of course, the necklace Uncle Maegor gave me for my nameday all those years ago.

And she is wearing a lovely dark navy dress with silver embroidery of dragons and stars along the sleeves, neckline and hem of her dress. 

Mama gave them to us only a week prior as a set stating. “You two are so close, you may as well match every once and a while.” 

And to be fair she's not wrong, we both have many ‘friends’, mostly ladies whose fathers wish to get a in with the royal family. But no matter how much gossip, walks in the gardens, or some other mundane activity they bring me or Rhaena's way, we would both pick to play and explore with each other. She truly is my best friend in this whole world. 

“I mean we don't have to fly on them, we just have to claim them, the flying part is more of a special thing to add on. Plus yours isn't nearly large enough to be saddled and ridden yet.” I say pointing to the blue dragon Rhaena had had her eyes on, it is no larger than a horse it would take at least two more years before she could fly upon the beast. 

“Yeah I know that, but you want Meraxes, she is the size of mountains. She could swallow you, me, and my little dragon to be in one fell swoop! So we need a plan, at least for your future dragon.” She says pointing towards Meraxes.

I think for a moment trying to figure out how we can achieve our goal and not be jerky for the dragons this afternoon. I then notice the distance between the dragons, because of Meraxes size compared to the wild blue dragon, it made me believe they were closer than they actually are. 

“There is no need, you go to your dragon, and I'll go to mine.” I say confidently starting to wake down the hill we were watching the two dragons from. That is until Rhaena pulls me back looking scared 

“What if I forget the words? What if you forget the words? What if we both do and we're both fried? What if even though we do everything right they still don't choose us?” She rambles off in such quick succession it is near impossible to understand what she is saying.

“Calm down, Rhaena,” I say gripping her shoulders, making her look me in the eyes trying to calm her down. “Where is my fearless little sister? Surely my little sister will face a dragon. I mean you are the one who pranks grandsire and great aunt Visenya, if you can prank them I think…no, I know you can claim a dragon.” I say which seems to calm her. 

I know I got through to her when I see that fire and mischievous look come back to her eyes replacing the cold and fearfulness that used to be there.

“Alright, let's do this.” Rhaena says before practically running down the halls towards her gorgeous blue dragon. 

Looking at the dragon from this viewing point and not the far distance I usually do, I can see why it has caught Rhaena's attention. It is a beautiful baby blue with silver accents and white spikes and membrane. When its scales are caught in the light of the sun it makes a breathtaking shimmer that appears as if the stars are made by this dragon, and this dragon alone.

My attention is quickly turned though by the colossal that is known as Meraxes by her growl that seems to either shake the ground, terrifies me to the point my knees are knocking together, or both…most likely both. 

I feel as if my very soul is vibrating when looking at the white and gold beast, her scales appear to shift between white and deep silver depending where the light catches them, but her spikes, horns and membrane are gold just like the molten gold of her eyes. She is a gorgeous dragon, one I know will be mine.

I walk closer to her taking slow and calm steps trying not to startle her. The thought rises a giggle from me, for why would this beast large enough to be mistaken as a mountain be frightened by me a little girl of only ten? 

I'm now right in front of Meraxes feeling the warmth of her breath against me, I'm so close with each breath she takes my hair is either pushed into my face or blown past my shoulders. I thought I would feel panic when I came this close to her, but instead I feel a wonderful calmness, a warm and kind feeling, the feeling of being whole. 

I feel her nuzzle against my chest, she is obviously trying to be gentle but when you’re the size she is well it’s quite hard to be gentle. I finally decide to reach out when she starts to purr against my chest. I feel the warmth of her scales, they are smooth with only a bump here or there from her war days. 

I can’t fight the smile that comes to my face at the very thought that I have a dragon. 

I'm startled out of my musing when I hear a cheerful squeal. I quickly turn and see Rhaena doing a happy dance which consists of her jumping and fist-bumping the air. 

“I GOT A DRAGON!” She screams excitedly as her blue beast watches, and I swear is dancing in joy with her if the sway and tail swishes are any indicator.

I start walking towards Rhaena when she starts running over to me and Meraxes. Though I think the dragon wouldn't hurt my little sister, as she probably feels the bond I have with Rhaena, I would rather be safe than sorry. 

Rhaena stops and gives me that mischievous grin of hers before saying cheekily. “So is it fair to assume you tamed that mountain you call a dragon, or am I to wait a bit longer for the flames to leave her maw?” 

I can't help but roll my eyes and giggle, for Rhaena truly is just a cheeky thing always ready with a joke. 

“Yes, I succeeded as well, though I don't know if I want to take her for a fly yet.” I say looking behind me to watch as Meraxes eyes Rhaena curiously.

When I turn back I find Rhaena pouting with her infamous puppy dog eyes. I already know what she's going to ask me before she even asks it.

“Please! Oh please can we fly back to the castle?” 

I sigh looking back at Meraxes trying to decide if I'll give in or not. When I turn back I find I can't give one, for Rhaena knows I know the commands for she and I both take the same classes with the Dragonkeepers. 

Finally, with a groan I nod and start walking towards Meraxes. I know I made the right choice when I hear Rhaena's happy chatter as she talks to her dragon about how she will need to follow us.

I stop and look at the ropes wondering how intact they are after all these years without use and being worn down by the weather upon Dragonstone. But with one touch I can feel their intact and could hold both me and Rhaena easily.

“You go first, I'll be right behind you in case you slip.” I say moving to the side so she can climb up.

She only nods before starting her climb with me quickly following behind her. I feel the burn of the ropes as I pull myself up, it feels as if no time passed from the time my feet were on the ground and I was sitting upon the saddle. 

I try and catch my breath before turning to Rhaena to ask if she is secure. When she nods excitedly wrapping her arms around me I quickly turn around commanding Meraxes to take to the skies.

“Sōvegon!” 

Me and Rhaena scream in delight as Meraxes runs towards the cliff edge before leaping off and extending her wings. When we're in the sky I feel this immediate calmness that comes through me. 

“Look, mine is following us! She listened!” Rhaena says excitedly as she points to her dragon trying its best to keep up with us. 

I smile, nodding, and look forward again, noticing we’re almost to the castle. I search for a spot large enough for Meraxes to land, it takes a bit of time but I find one close enough to the castle that we won’t have to walk far. I barely make out the shapes of Father, Mother, Grandsire and Uncle Maegor as we land. 

They all start running towards us as we slid down Meraxes extended wing. Mother is the first to reach us grabbing both of us by the shoulders and checking for injuries.

“Are you alright? Neither of you are hurt?” She asks before kissing our brows and hugging us close. 

“We’re alright Mother, we both claimed dragons.” I say hugging her back and taking in her scent of oranges and cinnamon. 

“Yes, we can see that, Darlings.” Father says from behind Mother marveling at the sheer size and beauty of Meraxes before turning to Rhaena’s dragon. “Though I do believe that one is wild.” 

Rhaena giggles running over to Father with a smile that could outshine the very sun. “I’m gonna call her Dreamfyre because her scales look like stars when the sun catches them.” 

I’m soon distracted when Mother walks over to the now curious Aegon stopping him from rushing towards the dragons. I turn to search for the one face I was hoping to see after claiming a dragon and it doesn’t take me long to find him as he is already moving towards me. 

“You claimed Meraxes, you have a dragon.” He says with a smile, but for some reason, it seems pinched, forced like he isn’t truly happy. 

Instead of trying to find out why he is upset I decide to answer. “Yes, isn’t she lovely, Kepus?” 

He only hums looking anywhere but me. This confuses me, he has always said I’d claim a dragon one day, that he would be so proud of me when I do, but he doesn’t seem proud he seems angry. 

I get no time to inquire about this strange behavior as his wife comes walking out asking questions about dragons and such. I feel the same ugly feeling I always do when she is with Kepus, the one I never get rid of no matter how hard I try. So instead I turn to pet Meraxes along her jaw missing the way my uncle turns to me with a proud smile that finally showed once he pushed through his jealousy.

Series Masterlist

Special thanks to @sugutoad For making the header for this fic! I swear I'd be lost without you girly!

TAGLIST: @sugutoad @ilikefelines @sachaa-ff @classicsimpforaaronwarner @mmogurl

[sugutoad]

INTRODUCTION TO THE MY HEART MY RUIN AU by @coffeebooksrain18

Rhaella Targaryen is the daughter of Aeny and the heart of Maegor. When the fire kindles in Maegor’s heart, she is the only one to calm it down too. But she is a dragon and the fire sparks in her heart too. She is the daughter of the dragons and the day she was held in Maegor’s arm, they became one another’s heart and ruin.

Lily Waters and Aemon Targaryen were doomed by the Gods the day they met one another. The night before his marriage to Jocelyn Baratheon, Aemon wanted one night for himself before locking his soul in the cage of duty. Little did he know that night he would meet Lily Water — a whore and a bastard — yet, somehow she would change his world, but not his ending.

After the death of his wife, Baelon Targaryen knows it is his duty to marry again. And while his heart still lays with Alyssa, he marries his youngest sister, Aelora, only out of duty. But they do say that love is the death of duty.

After the death of his first wife, Daemon Targaryen is put in the same position as his father had been years ago. But unlike him, Daemon always knows what he wants. And now, he wanted his half-sister, Visanna Targaryen as his for she is half his soul and heart.

[cherryclitgirl]

The Gods IV

Pairings: Maegor x reader

Author’s note: Hey guys sorry for not updating, I’m working on this one and the Song of fire. Sorry but I had to restart because the app updated while I was typing and erased the work and I’m currently studying for my midterms. Anyway I hope you all have a good Christmas, Hanukkah and Kwanzaa! (and I’ll be updating soon, if you have any suggestions or request feel free to tell me:)

Summery: After the death of her son and Ceryse, the queen’s eye’s began to open to the dangers of the world. She recognizes the danger of being married to Maegor, and that as queen she must do what it necessary for the protection of her children,causing her to distrust the people she once called family. Maegor has too come to bone chilling realization that the young girl he tormented is old enough to betray him at any given moment.

———————————————————————-

“Fueled the terror of becoming prey, see quickly we become predators.” - Dr. Volumnia Gaul

There had been a shift after the death of Queen Ceryse Hightower. The court filled the halls of the Red keep with tales about her demise. Many gossiped over her sudden death stating it had been planned. While others argued that the queen had been in poor health for long and she had finally succumbed to the Stranger whilst she slept . Even after her cold body was found by her handmaiden neither Maegor nor Tyanna visited her. The only who had seemed to act had been queen y/n, briefly ordering for the silent sisters to prepare the body. There was no ceremony in her honor, no discussion or public announcement. Her body was ordered to be returned back to Oldtown without further questioning.Soon there was not single trace that remained of Queen Ceryse Hightower.

The council meeting concluded as it would have any other day. It had been quiet and the lords kept their eyes on Maegor and the two queens. Not a brief mention of Ceryse was uttered throughout the entire meeting, leaving no room for future attempts of discussions. Maegor stayed back as everyone began to leave the room, everyone left except for y/n. She turned to look back at Maegor who sat on his chair his expression pensive but resilient.

His eyes did not move from her, he was glad she had stayed. He didn’t hesitate to hold her hand as soon as she was in front of him “I did waver… when I had to marry her” he spoke his voice cold and low “But no with you” he said his large fingers intertwining with hers.

“I do not wish to hear of it ” she spoke softly slightly leaning down . Maegor had not hesitated to take his niece as his wife after he took the throne. Not because she was another thing he had earned, but because she was just like him. He saw it, when she was still a child. When he was still her father’s hand. Her claws digging deep into face of a noble after he made a remark about her sister. Her nails so deep , his face had begun to bleed. It had been the mentioned of her sister that had always triggered something in her. The order she gave to have Lord Alton’s head removed. Now the death of Ceryse. He was no fool he had been in the same room when it happened. Hiding in the walls after Tyanna told him Ceryse she called for y/n.

She was just like him, violent underneath her act of rightouness . Her true colors were beginning to show, if she wished for it she could’ve betrayed him. Yet she didn’t. He was thankful for that. He didn’t trust Tyanna, he had seen Tyanna’s true behavior. When it came to worrying, his mind never directed itself to Tyanna.

“Lord Tymond rides for Kings landing, you summoned him?” He asked his fingers beginning to caress her hand. “I ordered it” she said resting her forehead against his. Maegor closed his eyes letting out an exhausted sigh, he was frustrated with the current events of the kingdoms. The faith militant was dying down, no longer were they allowed to carry weapons. But there was more to do, so much more. “We also need a new master of laws “ her murmured his eyes closing for a moment.

“I’m sure any Lord will be please to take that place” she said her forehead still resting against his. “Would you?” He asked his eyes opening to meet hers.

“Why on Earth would I do that” she scoffed softly pulling her head away his. She leaned back against the table her fingers still intertwined with his. “You’ve used your power to punish Lord Alton, you have been a good advisor, you’ve earned your seat” he told there.

She didn’t regret her decision Lord Alton was to die sooner or later. However it had been the first time she used her power as queen if she became mistress of laws there was no telling what she would do. “Do you know why I took the throne?” Maegor asked his young wife. He felt her body tense beneath her touch, it was sore topic for her. He had killed her two brothers, usurped the throne and forced her to marry him. “You sought power “ she replied.

Maegor rose from his seat and leaned closer to her. His large frame towering over her body “I sought greatness. ” he corrected her “The realm was weak. You know it. They all did” he hissed his hands slowly reaching for her neck. “I did not hesitate to spill blood to create stability“. His hand wrapped around her neck with a gentle grip he was not trying to hurt her, his thumb gently caressed her skin “It was necessary “ there was no remorse in his voice just empty words.

His eyes were focused on hers. Her big beautiful purple eyes. They were filled with many emotions, sadness, anger and bitterness. “Even Viserys?” She asked him.

“Even Viserys” he replied. “Your mother’s defiance could not go unpunished” No matter what he said the murder of her young brother was not justified even if his hand was on her neck, even if she was at his mercy. She tried to move away but the once gentle grip on her neck suddenly tightened.

His expression had not darken nor changed but his grip had “Your father was weak, your brother would was to ” he spoke his harsh yet his expression was still unreadable “My father did not conquer the seven kingdoms just for power…He created justice and stability “ His grip was not meant to hurt her but it could. “You are no fool y/n” he spoke firmly “yet you choose to be”

“You have the will and the ability to make decisions and you’ve showed it” he spoke his voice filled with venom “Sooner or later Jaehaerys will want the iron throne and to secure his claim he will put our children to the sword”He hissed at the girl.

She was well aware if Maegor were to die, her brother would want to reclaim the throne. The lives of her children would be at stake, there would be no one on her side to protect her. If Maegor was gone any protection he gave her would follow . “You prepare our son to rule …or you cling to Jaehaerys for mercy” he spoke his hand letting go of her neck. Queen y/n eyes began to sparkle , but tears did not fall from her eyes. For she knew the cold truth…Maegor was right.

“Will you stand by me when the time comes?” He asked the girl ���Or will you cower away like your mother and father”. Both of his hands found their way to her cheeks. She looked into his eyes, She had begged for mercy when her child was murdered, and she would be damned if she pleaded once more. “I will” she said softly.

Maegor hummed and placed a kiss on her lips “Good” her murmured against his soft lips. He pulled away and stared at her for a moment admiring her beauty. As long as he had her by his side there was nothing to worry about, after all they shared more things in common than she realized.

Maegor left her to ponder, she began to realize that she had to ensure not only the protection of her children but her own. She was the queen, the power she had was enough to maintain stability in her own right. But it was not enough to prevent Jaehaerys from putting her children to the blade. He was her young brother, still a child but he was actively hiding. Along with her mother, her brother was surrounded with those that opposed Maegor. Those who would not hesitate to kill her children— to kill her. She would not succumb to that faith, not after what she had endured.

- - - - - - - - - - - - -

“Where is Aella?” Baelon asked his mother as he waltzed into the room his eye landing on Rhaenor. He was very fond of his younger sister Rhaella, he was fond of both of his siblings and the three had a close bond as they were close in age . Y/n often wondered if Baelon had forgotten about Aegon. He was practically a babe when it happened, part of her was relieved that Baelon did not have such horrible memory. “Abandoned your custom already, sweet boy?” His mother smile pausing her embroidery.

Baelon grinned making his way to his mother “Grand maester Benifer allowed me to leave early” he spoke looking for something in his pocket. He took out a small scroll and held up to his mother “He said it’s from Lord Tymond”. Y/n did not recognize the wax stamping on the scroll, but she did recognize that it must be important. Grand maester Benifer always personally delivered news and letters . “I’ll see to it later “ she smile discreetly taking away the scroll.

Baelon happily ran to play with his brother while his mother remained seated. Often she felt as if she were being watched. She looked at the balcony and pondered about stepping out to read the letter. But she would not risk the danger of stepping out in opened. Instead she continued embroidering moons and starts on her daughter’s new dress.

Grand Maester Benifer was concentrated writing on his book. His study smelled of natural herbs mixed with the odor of his experiments. There were large piles of parchments and medical equipment cluttering his room. His head perked up as he heard the door opened. Her grace queen y/n stood holding the small parchment on her hand. It was still unopened and he was almost aware of the reason of her visit.

“Would her grace like to sit down?” He asked gesturing a sofa in his study. She shook her head and walked to his desk her hand clutching the unopened scroll. “Care to explain?” She asked unamused.

Maester Benifer gave her a weak smile exhaling as he began to speak “My apologies your grace, it would’ve have been risky if I had delivered it personally “ he explained “For the contents of the letter come from across the narrow sea”.

Her eyes fell on the small scroll she was well aware of a certain someone who resided across the narrow sea. Someone she had not seen in years “Are you sure?” She asked slowly almost afraid of having misheard.

“A maid from Dragonstone received it…there are those who still are loyal to your mother and brother” He told her hoping the love for her family had not disappeared.

“ Traitors of crown” she spoke to herself as she began to open the seal. She her hands were trembling slightly as she began to unroll the small scroll. Her stomach began to fill with both excitement and fear “It’s from Rhaena” she whispered. She tried to hide a smile but it soon betrayed her as she began to read.

“ y/n… there are many things I wish to say, and not enough room for the amount of words I wish to write . I pray for you to forgive me. I abandoned you on that wretched day, it was not in my best judgment to leave you. I did only what a mother thought was needed. I took my daughters and sought refuge away from Maegor. By doing so I abandoned you, it is something I carry with me all these years…. I pray you read letter and the rest that follow ”

She had stopped reading the letter even before the grand maester spoke. She did not blame her sister for leaving, she had forgiven long before she send the letter. Her sister was protecting her daughters, and y/n would’ve have done the same But writing back to Rhaena would be foolish, anyone who was not currently in the realm acknowledging Maegor as king was enemy of the crown. She would not put her and children at risk by going against Maegor. She simply swallowed the emotion that had build up on her throat and crumbled the scroll.

“Your grace?” The grand maester asked confused as he watched her toss the letter into the fireplace. “Might I ask..are you not pleased with the words of your sister?” He asked the queen.

Y/n shook her head as she watched the paper burn into ashes “I am grand maester, but if that letter were to get in the wrong hands”she said pausing as her hands fiddled with her necklace. Already picturing Maegor’s grip “Our heads would on spikes “ she warned him . The grand maester dropped his gaze, he had been guilty of many crimes. He gave the queen the moon tea, he had searched for allies that were loyal to Jaehaerys. He had given her that letter. “Our sins will haunt us” he whispered.

There were not sins in the eyes of y/n. She had refused to acknowledge her actions as immoral. For all she knew she had no plans, no motive to act against her family. But that was before Maegor warned her. She was allowed to mistrust her brother and he probably shared the same feeling. It was had seen years since she saw him last, he was child when she left and now nearly a man grown. Yet part of her was filled with a feeling that suppressed any other. The motherly rage that grew inside her. It made her distrust everyone, even Rhaena. She would do her duty as queen and ensure Baelon sat on the iron throne. She would put traitors to the sword the way her child was. Morals were set by knights and honorable people. But she was neither a knight nor honorable.

“If any letters arrive, see that they’re delivered to my chambers by Kiara” Y/n said heading to the door. The grand maester nodded unsure if he should speak. He had many regrets but his deepest regret would always be failing to advise his queen before Maegor corrupted her.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Across the narrow sea in the far end of the city of Volantis stood a large house. With large towers and high windows and Ionic columns that held it up. Its white lime stone walls guarding its owners. The night was quiet and peaceful, the only sound came from the fountain in the gardens. In one of the rooms paced a white haired woman, her simple blue dress trailing behind her. She looked at the parchment on her hand, tears swelling in her eyes she clenched it tightly. It would take days before her message arrived. It was not the first nor the last.

However no matter how many letters she sent none were answered. She could only cry and pray for a word back. Anything would sooth her heart. The guilt of knowing she fled with her daughters and left her sister behind ate alive every day. She would picture her face when she left, and cried herself to sleep. Oh her poor sister. She wished back in the Redkeep. Sharing a bedroom with sister, sneaking out down to the kitchens for cakes. Riding their dragons all over the Crownlands. She even missed when her sister dragged out to the rain. She was far away from her sister, far away from her best friend.

She had gotten the courage to finally write to her mother, she tested her luck and wrote to her sister. She knew the message was send discretely and her sister would face no trouble receiving it. Still she worried, would her sister resent her for abandoning her?

- - - - - - - - - - - -- - -- - -- - -- - -- -

The role of mistress of laws was not a task given to anyone. Many lords who spend years around the politics of the realm constantly battled for the position. The last master of laws had been established when her father was still king, he kept records of all sorts. Books and parchments that granted her knowledge of what she needed to know. Still she was not sure why Maegor had appointed her.

“Countless shelves filled with the knowledge of men” A voice spoke. Y/n looked up to see Tyanna standing by the door looking into the small study “Mayhaps the knowledge you accumulate will help Maegor keep some stability “ she said in a slight confident tone.

“Mayhaps” y/n said returning her gaze to a scroll dated during her grandsire’s reign.

“It seems like an eternity ago Aegon conquered the seven kingdoms and created his small council-“ Tyanna began but quickly stopped as she noticed y/n’s bored look. “Have you heard the story one too many times?” She smirked

“He told me the story” she corrected her, she seen the great conqueror alive. He was her grandsire, she once sat on his lap while he sat the iron throne. “I am not lost with the story, I have memorized it whole” she muttered.

“Then you understand the significance of this position? “ Tyanna raised an eyebrow “you understand there is more to the realm. The realm is difficult and to truly know it…..it’s to truly experience it.”

Y/n looked up to Tyanna for a moment watching her careful she stood carefree by the door “You speak to me as if I am new to Westeros and its laws…… I am not…you are” she cringed

Tyanna’s expression faltered for a moment but quickly smile as she left the comfort of the door “I came into this strange country as nothing but a mistress, soon a wife and now a queen, the quick change did not bestowed me with sudden knowledge “ she spoke her smile vanishing once she was close enough to y/n. The only barrier between them being a wooden desk and a silent hatred for one another.

“ Knowledge?” She asked Tynna her cold gaze meeting hers “One can read many books, listen to many lectures but one cannot fully grasp the harsh reality…Power is what keeps the realm from tearing itself. Had Aegon not conquered the kingdoms men would’ve waged war with one another. “ she told the pentosi woman.

“What is your purpose? By all right the Iron throne is yours and your sister’s…yet you’ve served Maegor and soon your son…I doubt you will have much power” Tynna spoke her fingers pressed against the desk.

“Power resides where men believe it resides”. The young queen told Tyanna. “If I have enough power..then power will be power.” Tyanna hummed and looked at the girl her expression slightly changed “How will you use that power exactly?” Tyanna questioned “Kill all those who deny the throne to your son? Avenge the death of Aegon? Or will you see this country burn for your own pleasure?”

Queen y/n simply shrugged at the her questions “Any mother would see the world burn for her children “

Tyanna scoffed slightly “What stops you from seeking revenge, ending your brother to secure Baelon’s place on the throne”

Tyanna never failed to irritate her and her constant bothering deeply annoyed her “I would be a fool to kill an innocent, but I would be a fool if I didn’t secure my son’s claim”

“Ceryse is gone, we have a mutual goal and mutuals must work together “ Tyanna proposed

“I would also be foolish to trust you” she replied her response as cold as her gaze. Tyanna sneered at her comment but deep down she knew the girl had the right to distrust her. “We kept our distance you and I” Tyanna noted as she moved away from the desk “If there was a need for us to stand together as the storm approaches…it would be now” Tyanna left but her presence still lingered

Y/n knew the conversation would be resurface again, she was no fool when it came to playing Tyanna’s games But for now she would be playing alone, as queen y/n had notice both Tyanna and Maegor were cautious and paranoid. Silently worrying and insinuating something she could not yet realize. Both of them had been correct in their statements, the throne was hers by right, and to become king Jaehaerys would have to but get rid of any active threats. She had no desire for the throne however she knew the realm needed a good monarch. She had three children and despite Baelon being the oldest, the three of them would be shaped into the crown. She would have her son on the iron throne, she would protect her children no matter the cost.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Queen y/n stopped reading letter before she tearing up the parchment. It was the fourteenth letter her sister had sent. All the same, all expressed their regrets over the last years. She would be lying if she said the first letter made her happy. Each letter had been thrown into the fire moments after reading them. Her heart was not cold, or broken. It was busy. She stood up from her seat and threw the letter into the fireplace. After the death of Ceryse there had been an obvious shift her attitude towards those around her. She had appointed new council members and even punished certain members of the court. Her visits to the small council were frequent and she became an ambitious member. She worked in the shadows- as some would call it scraping for power and clinging to whatever was beneficial.

—————————————————————————

“A marriage between Prince Rhaenor and my youngest granddaughter would strengthen the bond between both houses “ Lord Daemon suggested. The topic of marriage was not always discussed during the council meetings. Today was among the rare occasions where the topic was debated. “The queen is not only my niece but a daughter to me, having her son marry into my family would follow our traditions “ his pathetic attempts did not surprised the council. Y/n ignored her uncle, he never spoke to her and if he did it was to gain favor.

“We should consider foreign strength “ Tyanna said. “I believe marrying into a powerful family from the one of the free cities will send a good message “ she said eyeing Maegor.

“Are you suggesting Pentos?” Questioned y/n. She was leaned back on the chair her body physically in the meeting but her mind somewhere else. She had already opposed the betrothal between Aella and Baelon. Tyanna by no means came from a wealthy family, y/n never even bother to learn the story of how she met Maegor. She knew nothing about the woman and it only added to the hatred and suspicion that already lingered. If Tyanna suggested Rhaenor should be betrothed to a family from Pentos then Tyanna would choose her own kin.

“Over the past year and a half …much has happened “ Tyanna said “and…over the past months I have grown fond of the children..I might not be their mother but I wish to give when what is best “ she said calmly her eyes looking around the rest of the members. She sought their favor and Maegor was no fool at detecting it. Tyanna held no lover for any of his children but he kept quiet and simply watched as the situation unfolded. Y/n bit the inside of her cheek. Her children were hers and hers only and Tyanna had tried to kill them, now she wished to take her son Rhaenor, the only one that still looked like Aegon. Tynna had her gaze on everyone but y/n , she was well aware of her actions and she knew it infuriated Queen y/n…but she held to remorse.

Before: No matter how often she paced around with Rhaenor he simply cried even more. He would cry in her arms , the arms of the wet nurse, and in the arms of the maids. She was running out solutions and was scared her son cry for all day. She did not have a clue what it took to be a mother, she believed she would’ve already learned as this was her third child yet it was more difficult. Rhaenor was fussy and disliked many things unlike Aegon and Baelon who were often calm. Her soothing did not seem to calm him, the fact that she was pregnant yet again only filled her with overwhelming dread.

When Rhaenor was barely four moons old Maegor threw a large feast for her seventeen name day. The day was neither joyous nor pleasant for her. She simply remained seated at the royal table while she watched nobles drink and dance in her honor. They seem to enjoy the day more than she did, she did not care if they toasted her name and thanked the old gods and the new for granting king with three healthy male babes. She knew how the celebration would end.

Without fail Maegor took her to his chambers, he did want he could and what he wanted. She was still as he worked on top of her. His massive body fully covering her as he pleased himself. She never enjoyed it and it never brought her any pleasure. She felt dead while he felt alive.

Soon the poor girl became pregnant with yet another child.There she stood comforting her son while she had a small growing bump beneath her gown. She swallowed the knot on her throat , there were times where she wished to be back in the arms of her mother. But the feeling would vanish when she saw her children, she now the mother and her children needed their mother just as much as she needed hers.

“Having Pentos, one of the richest cities as allies…would send a message to a certain resident in Volantis” Tyanna spoke finally gazing at y/n. “I have chosen the family, one that is both beneficial and trusting” she finished.

Maegor exhaled rubbing his temple, the constant growing headaches plague his body. He felt his body beginning to feeble at times. The crown had enemies and as long as they lived the headaches will remain. He couldn’t care less about marriage proposals but he did found Tyanna attempts interesting as he could tell his wife was not pleased.

“The king and I will discuss it” Queen y/n spoke firmly but calming. She stopped leaning against the chair at once when Volantis was named and had visibly irritated expression .

“The queen is right” Daemon Velaryon spoke out “Let us not rush into marriages…the children are young and there is enough time ahead”. He spoke against Tyanna once his plans were made to compete with hers.

“Let us be finish then” Y/n said raising up from her seat, the rest of the lords followed each of them ready to leave the small council when Tyanna spoke “We are two queens” she declared her voice sending the lords back into their seats. Queen y/n was the only who still stood not interested in Tyanna’s words“Under one house..just like Aegon the conqueror and his two queens .”

Maegor watched his favorite wife who once was too frighten to look at him, stand against his other wife. He was fully aware that she had been young and he doubted if she would become a dutiful wife but as the years went by she was now a woman grown of twenty, advising the council and him. It made him realize she could handle the proposals, a high contrast to when she first joined the small council, were she would quietly sit and listen. “Targaryen Queens under the Targaryen house” Y/n replied reminding Tyanna she was neither high born nor Targaryen but simply Tyanna from Pentos. She turn her attention to Maegor who was trying to sooth his headache while paying attention to the banter .

“You must rest now, husband “ Queen y/n told Maegor as she moved to his side completely disregarding Tyanna’s words. The council members left the room leaving Tyanna alone, for the past half year she felt her power slipping away. Although the court did not deny her the tittle of Queen, it was y/n who they considered the true wife of Maegor. They were both from old Valyria and had been married under the faith of the seven with approval of the high septon, she had given him Targaryen children and was influential with both the common folk and the nobles. What she felt were the same feelings Ceryse once did . She held no true power except for being the mistress of whispers but even that seemed to vanish.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“You are no fool, husband “ Y/n spoke her arm wrapped around Maegor’s as they walked side my side back to his chamber. Each noble passing near by bowed their heads respectfully, it was a rare sight to see couple together and it only fueled to their support for the Queen. “You see right through her yet you refuse to speak against her ridiculous proposals! ” She scoffed softly. “She is desperate” she said looking at her husband.

Maegor’s head pounded with a throbbing pain he was in no mood to discuss with his wife about marriages “What would have me do?” He asked pausing his steps. He would let her to decide the faith of the proposal, one which he truly did not care for.

She looked at him and shook her head “To not marry my son off to one of her — courtesans” she said bluntly. She never bit her tongue in matters that included her children. Maegor only sighed as they continued walking, he never saw Tyanna as wife. She was tavern dancer that learned the secrets of many wealthy individuals and he was in need of someone with that availability . He was fully aware of her ambition, she never made an effort to hide it from him. She had failed to do many things such as giving a child and she lacked y/n’s dutiful nature. He could agree with his wife that Tyanna’s choice was not the best.

He could not deny that his niece was a dutiful wife. She cared for both him and her children. In his mind that made her vulnerable, yet when their son was murdered she sought sanctuary in him. She had searched for him and only him.

Though Maegor had a different perspective on how his young wife viewed him. He lacked the ability to distinguish her love and duty. For she loved her husband and cared for him. But she was not in love with him.

————————————————————————

“I do not milk of the poppy” He said firmly. He laid on the bed his head on her lap as she sooth his headache. The night was dark and the castle walls trapped the cold air. The soft candle light barely illuminated the room creating comfort for the two of them. He had summoned her to his chambers not for pleasure but for company.

“I was told I would never have children” Maegor told her, his eyes focused on the ceiling above him “That was I damned with a rotten seed…”. He closed his eyes picturing the day the high septon dammed him for marrying Alys. He kept the fear of never having an heir buried deep in his heart. “I no longer believe that ” he spoke his eyes returning to the ceiling.

There was a moment of silence between the two of them. The only noise being the cracking of the fire burning into the wood logs and the soft whispers of the wind.

“I dreamt once “ Y/n spoke softly She dreamt, a lot and as she grew older the dreams became clear and frequent but not clear enough to warn her about her future. The first dream she ever experienced happened long before her father became king. The wolf man, she called it. The body of a man but the head of wolf. Her sister Rhaena had been disturbed when she walked into her sister day dreaming, her eyes simply staring at the wall. Her second dream was the dream of the man with a golden hand cursed to love his match, that dream had been short but clear and would come soon, but not during her time.

“Of four dragon eggs and their mother…the loss of one fueled a fire within her…… so strong the three remaining eggs hatched…but it was in her story to live in sorrow …until only a single one remained “. Her soft fingers gently massaging the side of his head providing him with comfort.

“Our children?” Maegor asked his wife. The dream followed the order of their children… four babes and their mother and only three remained. He did not wish for the dream to become reality.

She shook her head “No” she spoke softly “It’s all a story” her voice creating calmness in the room “And you’re but one part in it”. His wife’s words send an uncomfortable feeling down his neck and body. Although he was glad her dream did not apply to their children, he did find her ability induring and chilling.

She had lived in misery for years in his grasp. He often wondered how she found a new strength after the death of their son. Her growth was no longer a duty but a need. She had her own ambition , she would put her son on the iron throne not because it was his birthright but she wanted it. To him her motives were clear, she would soon rather burn House Targaryen than have her children slaughtered by her brother. She would take the throne even if she had to spill her own blood. She would decide who sat on it and it would not be her brother.. the history books will always remember her. Her tragic life abandoned and doomed by the gods .

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -- - - - - - - -- - - -- - - -

She stood overlooking the training yard watching Baelon train. He was seven summers old almost eight and had begun his sword training. He sparred against young squires and sometimes Maegor would personally instruct him. His resemble to his brother Aegon had faded. He has his own looks that imitated his father’s. Had Aegon lived past the age of four mayhaps he too would’ve look like Maegor.

“You still mourn Aegon” Tyanna’s voice spoke as she stood next to y/n. It has been nearly four year since the death of Aegon and even when the days passed and the new season began to emerge ,she still dreamt of her son. He wondered if Bealon remembered his brother or if he simply believed it had all been a dream. However she never failed to talk about her son , afraid her children will grow thinking he never existed.

“It’s a condition of motherhood” y/n replied her eyes not moving away from Baelon. She loved her children dearly and no one denied it. Unfortunately for the past year and so she had began to show her true colors at court, she was the queen consort, what little power she had she made sure to use it all.

“Come the good years Baelon will become king wear his father’s crown and rule Westeros “ Tyanna said. Y/n had spend the days shaping her children to wear the crown , some would say she loved her children but her love did not stop her from using her children as pawns. “Aegon will simply be washed into the history books and be forgotten by most”

“He will be a good king” Y/n spoke “A decent king” the firmness in her voice lingering for a little longer. “Aegon’s memory will die when I die”. There was acceptance in her words ,she knew better than anyone that it was only she who kept her son’s memory alive.

“He will soon ride for the Dorne “ Tyanna said referring to Maegor who had decided his presence is needed to at marches to put an end to the dispute between the stormlands and Dorne.

Y/n hummed in response , her husband always decided his presence was needed where there was conflict “He will leave you as regent?” She asked Tyanna. Having Tyanna as regent meant what ever power y/n looked for Tyanna would have it. Maegor did not trust the Hand of the king to have him as regent. Tyanna scoffed as if y/n had insulted her “These people do not consider me their queen, even if he left me as regent there would be anything put respect “ the hostility towards her position was noticed by both Maegor and y/n.

Y/n was able to hide her smile at Tyanna’s discomfort mayhaps Maegor would leave old Lord Edwell Celtigar as his regent. It would less of a challenge for her.

“He plans to remarry” Tyanna’s voice caused her relief to vanish. She knew well that Tyanna was no content with his wishes, he plan to marry widowed woman with children. The windows of the man he killed, whose children were the future lords of their fathers land. Having them close allowed him to have control over any potential threats and traitors. She knew of his future two wives, Jeyne Westerling and Elinor Costayne women who she felt pity for but not enough to welcome them with open arms, as no women should be punished in such cruel way. Rhaena’s letter became less frequent even though she never wrote back she knew the reason why her sister no longer wrote to her…she would soon see her.

“I know” y/n replied not fazed by Tyanna’s news . She had gained what little power she currently had and she would grasp to it even if she had remove obstacles. Seeing her carefree demeanor made Tyanna realize mayhaps she too should care less. “He’ll grow into a senile man paranoid of his own shadow should you join him as well ?” Y/n faced Tyanna.

Something beneath Tyanna seemed to tingle with eagerness. She had hatred towards her and y/n felt the same way. But Tyanna could not ignore the fact that she was beautiful, she had constantly lied to herself but she knew the truth. She could plot against y/n and curse her with misfortune…and it would all be just to get her attention. She looked at her plump lips..so soft and bitable, no wonder Maegor could not keep his hands off- Tyanna thought.

“I follow our husband where ever he wishes..but not that extend “ Tyanna joked nervously. She was never the flustered type, the way y/n tilted made her eagerness throb even more. “ our? Husband? “ Y/n scoffed in disbelief. Tyanna had never shared Maegor and made it clear Maegor was only her’s. She no longer considers me competition - Y/n thought as she gave Tyanna a not so subtle eyeroll.

Tyanna swallowed and looked back the training yard. It had been so long since Maegor bedded her and the feeling of pleasure was beginning to become foreign to her, she found herself missing the nights she spend with Alys, and now she yearned for y/n’s touch. “We will soon share him with multiple women, there is no mine or yours” Tyanna said. Without a word she left y/n’s side her steps becoming quicker the further she was from her.

Puzzled y/n watched her leave. Normally Tyanna would’ve pushed her buttons with a witty comment or tried to infuriate her. But she simply left without another word, holding the skirt of her dress to walk faster.

She looked at her ring for a moment, there would be time where either Tyanna would betray her or she would betray Tyanna. There was no probability that she would ally herself with Tyanna, there could be only be one queen when Maegor died and it would be her.

There was a sudden change in the training yard as chaos erupted ,guards and squires shouted and scrambled to separate a quarrel between two people. Y/n could barely see who was fighting until she looked closer and she saw silver hair. Ser Olyver was pulling Baelon who had his hands deep into a squires face, digging into his eyes so hard blood was dripping from the squire’s face. Baelon’s grip on the poor squires was so tight Ser Olyver struggled to get him off. “SAY IT AGAIN!” Baelon shouted as was dragged away from the bleeding boy “SAY IT AGAIN!”

It took several tries but Ser Olyver finally managed to get Baelon off the squire. He pushed the prince back shoving him into the dirt. The poor squire laid on the ground bruised and bloody barely moving. A large pool of blood dripping from his eyes. The guards were unsure what to do with the squire , afraid that if they touched the body they would be punished by the king. The boy was older and taller than Baelon. A few years older than him and somehow the squire had fallen. Albeit the boy had no choice as he would serve a severe punishment if he fought back. “Gods be good” Ser Olyver gasped as he knelt down by the squire, his eyes bloody and scratched. Bealon had dug his fingers so deep into the boys the skin was peelings off. Ser Olyver could not tell if the boy was alive , the boy’s eyes they were tightly closed dripping with blood. He looked back at Baelon who was still in the ground his hands were bloody and dirty, his face filled with hatred while clutching something on his fist.

“Come on Lad” Said Ser Olyver his voice rough and stern. Ser Olyver pulled him off the ground by the back of his collar. He pushed him forward almost knocking him off his feet. No King’s guard would have the guts to treat the prince in such way, but Ser Olyver had seen Aeny’s children grow up and gained the experience of a second father…and more of grandsire to Baelon and his siblings.

When Baelon was dragged off to his mother he had a sour expression refusing to look from the ground. He was afraid to face his mother, he had never seen her angry or disappointed in his actions. He was still clutching something so he carefully hid his fist.

“See him to his chambers “ Queen y/n ordered a standing King’s guard. She was furious and frustrated and unable to stand by Baelon any longer. She made her way down the to training yard where the squire laid. She was unsure if the boy was dead, his eyes were unrecognizable making it difficult for her determine if they were even opened. She felt nauseous watching the boy twitch in pain, her stomach twisting and her throat tightening in disgust.

“Why is he still here?” She hissed at Ser Olyver “Help the boy!” She ordered a guard who without another word gestured for help.

“We thought the king might want to see the boy” Ser Olyver explained not being able to look away from the body.

“He has suffered enough” she said covering her mouth with her hand. “Who was he?” She asked her gaze following the boy as he was carried off.

“The son of a steward squiring for Ser Dylan Farman” Ser Olyver told her. The squire was a simple boy working to earn his knighthood, a something many dreamed of but not many achieved. The boys mother would see her son return a walking dead man. A blind man cursed by a spoiled prince. “No amount of gold will enough for that boys mother” y/n said solemnly.

She looked at ser Olyver for a moment, she could let the boy heal and return home to his mother, but the current state of the boy would not allow it. She considered giving the order to have the boy put out of his misery it would be a quick clean death with no struggle.

“Fetch the grand maester “ she ordered as she made her way out of the training yard. The boy was would return to his mother, it was not in her heart to take the life of a woman’s child, her heart will not allow it.

Baelon sat on his bed his hands stained with blood, his eyes looking at the ground with anger and hatred. He knew his mother would soon come through the door, yell at him for the first time. He knew the consequences of what he had done, but he would be dishonest if he claimed he would not do it again. He loved his mother and did not wish to disappoint her, but there were certain things he must do. Things he could get away with thanks to his father. He knew he would not face punishment. But his father could no save him from his mother’s wrath.

The doors of his chamber opened, he slowly rose his gaze to see her standing with a cold hard gaze. “The boy….will be a blind man ” she her tone calm but firm.

“I didn’t mean to make him blind” Baelon murmured trying his best to keep his gaze on his mother. He had acted out of anger but he knew he wanted to hurt the boy, not matter how severe the result was. Baelon was not violent, his mother had made sure of it. But his feelings were not easily sooth by the love his mother granted him.

“You think your father will forever let you walk free with no punishment?” She asked him. He didn’t respond which earned him a scoffed “Your father won’t always be here, you know that ” she told him walking to his bed.

“I will be king” Baelon said his voice firm and defiant. “When father dies I will be king”

“You think the realm will accept a cruel arrogant king?” She scoffed “As we-as I see it , you will ascend the iron throne” she said “There are other’s who will put their claim forward, and your very life…the life of your brother and sister could be forfeit, Jaehaerys will not hesitate to get rid of those who oppose his succession“.

“It is my birthright-“ her hand shot out and gripped his face so tightly he winced as he felt her nails dig into his face “your birthright! “ she snapped “Will not matter!. Simply by being HIS son you are in danger! ” she hissed her nails digging on his cheeks tightly sending a stinging pain, her grip did not falter causing his eyes to water “your father did not care about my brother’s birthright! He usurped the throne, Jaehaerys will not care either , ” her voice filled with venom angry and bitter. It had been the first time Baelon had seen rage in his mother’s eyes, she was angry at him, she was hurting him. He winced trying to protest but his mother let go of his face “That did not compare to the pain you inflicted upon that boy” she exhaled.

“You will send your regrets, fall to your knees and beg the boy’s for forgiveness “ She scolded. “I will not beg-“ Yet again Baelon was silenced by his mother with a gentle but slightly firm slap that caught him off guard. “Do I make myself clear ? Or do you wish for me to slap you again?” Baelon shook his head and held his cheek.

“Wash up, your father wishes for us to have supper together “ she said firmly and left without a word.

No one was sure what the squire had said to the prince that caused such a chaotic response. Some believed the squire had offended the young prince, but no squire would be brave enough to offend the heir to the iron throne. Other’s said Baelon had seen the boy wearing an emblem of the faith of the seven. Leading to Prince Baelon to attack the young boy over his bitterness towards the faith. The story changed often but the history books remembered the incident as the first act of cruelty in the hands of Baelon the bitter.

Baelon knew it would not the last time his mother would lay a hand on his face. But as he took out a small seven pointed star pin from his pocket he silently vowed to avenge the death of his brother. His mother would have to understand even if it created a drift between them. He stared at the silver pin on his stained hand, he will punish those who wronged the crown, Rhaenor will be his hand and Aella his queen. They would rule together as his mother preordained.

A maid entered his chamber will a water bowl and rags she bowed her head at the young prince before speaking “My prince, the queen has requested for you to tend your own wounds”. Baelon simply nodded as he watched the maid place the bowl on the table, he said nothing nor protested against his mother’s orders. The maids and guards had seen him grow up and most likely heard what he had done. Mayhaps his mother was right…the people will se him differently.

Before : With help of Dowager queen Visenya, y/n made her way into the wheelhouse. To the surprise of both of Tyanna and Ceryse the young girl would attend the hunt. “You should be coming along? It is not safe “ Ceryse warned y/n who sat down with the help of a maid. Y/n gave a half smile before holding her large bump “His grace the king wished for me to attend our son’s Name day celebrations “ she replied. It was not his wish, it was his command for her to attend the joint Name days of both Aegon and Baelon. He ignored the warnings of the maester yet again and successfully impregnated his young wife the girl was pregnant shortly after birthing Rhaenor “The grandmaester says nature should do good for her and the babe” Visenya added gesturing for another pillow to be added for y/n.

Ceryse had hope y/n remained in Dragon stone during the duration of her pregnancy. She resented the girl for getting in the way of her planned bonding with Aegon and Baelon . Yet again the girl was pregnant with her fourth child, the girl would have her fourth child before the age of twenty. The thought became bitter in Ceryse’s mind as she watched Visenya take Aegon from his wet nurse.

“The Mother is quite the generous” Ceryse smile examining the large pump on the girl.

“Is she?” Tyanna snickered eyeing Ceryse with a subtle mockery.

“My grand-niece has given my son healthy babes so effortlessly - while others have struggle and failed miserably “ Visenya said proudly keeping a sharp look on both Tyanna and Cersye. “Even if she is at the age when most girls are enjoying their early stages of womanhood” she said placing a kiss on Aegon’s head, she acknowledged what her son did to y/n. The constant pregnancies made difficult to remember a time where y/n was not pregnant. It was concerning to many members of the court. Even if the young queen has already bled and turned into a woman, in the eyes of many it had she had awfully young and she gave birth to Aegon.

“The days are not easy…but in no time the babe is born” y/n replied carefully holding onto the seat as the wheelhouse drove through hard paths. “Even if it’s a struggle” she said softly avoiding the pity gazes of the maids who were among many who opposed the constant pregnancies, strongly believing it would be the death of young girl.

The carriage reminded silent expect for the noises of both Aegon and Baelon. Rhaenor still being a babe remained in the Redkeep. Despite having wet nurses it was y/n who was slowly learning the ways of being a mother.

The King’s woods appeared to be a small village with the amount of tents and stands set up for the nobles. Jousting and combat arenas were installed for the two princes. Dancing and drinking, large tables with feasts laid out for Maegor’s court. Great houses traveled to celebrate the occasion, all but Baratheon who simply granted both princes with large piles of gifts. The Targaryen colors were displayed proudly and the people gathered as the wheel houses came to a halt. Cheers were received by Maegor who had ridden Balerion despite being such a short flight they watched as he dismounted his dragon with ease. The large beast towering over the camp that now appeared insignificantly smaller.

Ceryse stood up ready to open the door of the wheelhouse when Visenya spoke “The princes should go first along with their mother and I”. Ceryse’s smile faltered as she had planned to exit the wheelhouse with Aegon. She simply nodded and watched as Visenya and the maids help y/n leave her seat.

“Your attempts are no longer admirable but pathetic “ Tyanna whispered whisper to Ceryse as loud clapping erupted once queen y/n and Visenya stepped out of the wheel house. Maegor smile at his mother as he took Aegon and Baelon from her arms. His large stature guarding his sons in his arms. He named his first born son after his father, and his second son after his dragon. He displayed them both with pride, pride in his accomplishment when it came to defying the gods.

“Here is to the princes of the realm!” Lord Daemon Velaryon toasted as he rose his large goblet of wine. Soon the rest of the nobles followed imitating the toast. Daemon Velaryon was a proud man, having he niece married to the king only added to his ego and did not waste his time parading the topic around.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The room was lit with candles and the fire that granted them warmth. The large oak table filled with variations of foods for the royal family. At the head of the table sat Maegor and Baelon by his side. Rhaenor only a few months younger than Baelon sat on the opposite side drumming his fingers with a slightly bored expression. The doors opened and queen y/n with her daughter Rhaella by her side. She was a happy child with her mother’s eyes, she was often seen day dreaming just like her mother and had taken an interest at the night sky.

Queen y/n noticed there were only fives chairs in the room , Tyanna would not be attending the supper. There were rare occasions when Maegor wished for his family to be together and enjoy supper, in some past occasions even Visenya would attend. “As it should be from now on, a united house under one roof” Maegor said waiting for his wife to take a seat on the opposite side next to him.

“I did not take you for a man who upholds his family values “ she replied dark red dress trailing along with her as she sat next to him. Maegor smirked admiring his youthful wife “Certain things make a man change his mind” he said taking her hand.

“How dreadful it is to know you ride for the marches soon” She said sarcastically as he kissed her knuckles. “You will see it soon wife , I plan to have Dorne on its knee before the new moon” he said proudly.

“Unbent, unbowed , unbroken “ she replied “You fail to remember certain places are better as foes than allies”. Aegon the conqueror himself had failed to conquer Dorne and Maegor would be defeated even if he tried.

“I am well aware of their words, what are words when fire and blood rains upon them” he said mockingly. “I will also take Baelon” he said smiling at his son

“That is out of the question “ Queen y/n said frowning “He’s too young, I will not let him ride to a battle he did not start.”

“I’m not sending the boy to die , he’s my squire and he will learn when he’s in the battle ground” Maegor said firmly “If needed he will ride along with me atop of Balerion “ He said proudly.

“You’re keen to have our son rain fire upon the innocent “ Y/n sighed. “Innocent?” Maegor laughed “Those people are mongrels “ he said in disgust “Baelon has proven himself to be a notable sword mans despite young” he said referring to the accident from earlier.

“Do not congratulate him- he blinded a man” y/n disagreed “But that does not mean he should go to battle”

Baelon who had been quiet finally spoke “I wish to fight, earning my knight hood means a great deal to me” he said his voice betraying his eagerness.

“It’s settled” Maegor said satisfied. Y/n she could no longer protest and ultimately decided to not.

“What about us?” Aella asked her father “you will remain in Red keep” he said observing his wife “under the care of my chosen regent, whilst Rhaenor squires for Lord Edwell and learns what it takes to be hand of the king “ his eyes then landing on his son. “Won’t you lad?” He asked his son. Rhaenor nodded proudly content with his father’s choice. “I will” he grinned

The dinner continued with the occasional chatter and bantering of Aella and Rhaenor, all y/n could think about was what she would do during her husbands absence, he would leave Tyanna and mayhaps return to a dead wife and a sole queen until he married Jeyne Westerling and Elionor Costayne. The thought of no longer dealing with Tyanna was refreshing, she could send Maegor’s wife to Dragonstone whilst she dealt with the succession. Everything would go her way, for once.

She was about to leave the room after dinner concluded when she felt his hands on her waist. It irked her when she felt his touch “Eager , when you have two brides riding for King’s landing” she muttered taking his large hands off her.

“I did not take you for a the jealous wife” he sneered his firm not letting go off her as he sank his face in the crook of her neck “I did not waver when it came to marrying you - to think I will replace you with them is foolish..even for you” he said turning her around to face him.

“Do as you wish” she said dryly“I have done my duty “ she hissed as his hand gripped her chin “you are a hateful woman, our son does not only take after me but you as well” he taunted her. Deep down she knew she was also filled with bitterness something she tried to hide but always lingered.

“You will receive Lady Jeyne and Lady Elinor in my absence “ he told her his hand still firmly gripping her face. “You will do so with no complaint. If you wish to remain in your position , you will do as I tell you”

She clenched her jaw and nodded “As you wish it”. Over my dead body- she thought to herself, when Maegor left the city gates things would change and she would be sure of it.

————————————————————————

Maegor rose from his seat while the council members watched. “You are all well aware of my soon departure “ he spoke his voice rough and cold. “The conflict at the marches will be resolved and soon Dorne will join us” he scanned the room for anyone who wished to speak but all sat quietly listening.

“Lord Edwell” he turned to the hand of the king. The old lord looked vigilant waiting for the king to speak. “Your grace?” He replied clearing his throat. He was visibly nervous as he felt Maegor cold glare on him.

“You will council my son, Rhaenor will be the future hand of Baelon” he instructed to the old lord. “It is my honor your grace, to instruct the prince “ The old man bowed his head.

“It should be” Maegor replied looking at his ring before speaking again “My dear lady wife, who has stood by me for as long as I have been king” he spoke his gaze still on his ring.

Tyanna seemed more relaxed at his comment, he had acknowledged her and her devotion to him. Something she never expected but always craved. After years at his service he would name her regent and the court would deal it with.

“Only a cunning woman as her should be named regent” his voice filled with admiration as his eyes landed on her. The eyes in the room landed on her as well. It had been expected and unexpected. The once tense room seemed relaxed, the members could not oppose his choice. He locked eyes with her and gave her a nod of approval. He did not considered anyone else as regent, the choice there the whole time. His mind never changed.

“Y/n” he spoke firmly pulling his chair so she could sit. She will sit in judgment and rule for him during his absence. As she took her seat the head of the table she held her gaze. Everything had fallen in order as she had hoped, even better than she had. As regent she no longer needed to grasp for power. It had been delivered to her by her king himself.

Tyanna face was hard only watching as Maegor whispered something to y/n. Having the woman she hated as regent was worse than having Lord Edwell, she will cling for mercy something she knew y/n no longer had for those who wronged her. Tyanna had wrong her as much as Maegor had and in her heart she knew she would not be spared.

Tymond Lannister and Daemon Velaryon gave each other knowing glances. Daemon was her uncle and now a trusted ally, only adding to the desperation of being at the high table of nobles. Tymond was a friend, she had appointed him herself and he supported her son’s claim, with her as regent they need not to worry about Maegor.

Only Grand maester Benifer, her longest ally who knew having her a regent meant she had all the power. Something she had searched for since the death of he son, only the gods knew what y/n would do once Maegor left.

The horses and men were ready and so was Baelon, his armor shone under the sun light and clanked as he walked. Dark sister tightly stripped on his waist, his father had given him the sword as a name day gift ,he approached her mother eh “I’m sorry” he spoke quietly. Long it had been since his outburst and was unsure if his mother had forgiven him. “For what sweet boy” his mother asked brushing some hair off his face.

“I truly did not wish to blind him…but I did want to harm him” he confessed. His mother kissed the top of his and whispered to him “If you to harm those who hurt us, let it be them and not the innocent”. He nodded upon hearing her words. “I don’t have a dragon what use would I be to him” he sighed.

She smiled and patted his shoulder “I have not seen my dragon in years only from afar. But one day, you will get to have one and experience the feeling of soaring through the skies. “.

“I heard Skyfyre’s song is filled with sadness, she’s taken home in Dragon stone waiting for you” Baelon said “She has three eggs that she guards with her might…selfish” he rolled his eyes.

His mother chuckled as guided him to say his goodbyes to his brother and sister. “Aella” Baelon said taking out a small ring from his pocket “I will be back soon enough”. “I know” She smiled as she accepted the ring.

“I trust the iron throne will be warm when I return” Maegor said pulling his wife aside.

“Anything else you wish for me to warm? Such as your bed for Jeyne and Elionor “she raised an eyebrow.

Maegor smirked “I would venture to say it was I who you are protective of, but if it’s your role as queen you so worry about” he said holding her hand. “You will not be supplanted, you are the queen regent do as you wish “ he placed a kiss on her. He was confident on his future victory, his wife had made sure to grant him pleasure before he rode off. He almost regretted his choice on leaving. “I will return “ he reassured her.

“I know” she replied letting go off his hand as he placed his helmet on his head. He would ride Balerion with his son. He looked at his wife before both him and Baelon made their to the dragon pit.

————————————————————————-

Rhaella sat on her mother’s lap , the had iron throne always intimidated her. The sharp blades poking out, thousands of swords forged into a large throne meant for the king. So mighty it seemed to never end. Yet there she sat with her mother as if they were both ment to sit comfortably . Listing to the request and petitions of both nobles and small folk. Her brother Rhaenor stood by lord Edwell as they gestured for another petition, Rhaenor had learned fast and he grinned at his sister every now and then both finding their roles boring but interesting. Their father had been gone for months now and their mother had been running kingdom smoothly, even forcing to common people and nobles to coexist if they wished for an audience.

“Good morrow you grace” a small old man bowed to queen y/n.

“Good morrow Kevan” queen y/n nodded, it was the third time the old man had asked for an audience, first time being when a member of the guards had assaulted his bread stand. The second when noble had been tormenting his daughters. Even if the request was minor the small folk sought refuge in the queen who defended them.

“I heartily hesitated on asking for another audience , your grace” he said ashamed.

“You are to ask for as many audiences as you please” she reassured him. “How might I be at your service?” She asked.

The old man swallowed hard “I come representing the small folk who..are afraid of facing the nobles and the faith “ he spoke quietly but bravely. She raised an eyebrow at the mention of the Seven, her husband had banned the militant from carrying weapons and all she knew they currently roamed the streets as they please with no arms or weapons.

“There had been…unfair attacks on us your grace, we are accused of sins we have not committed and terrorized by nobles who envied our new privilege of exposing their actions” Kevan said his voice raising slightly.

Y/n nodded as she listen his petition “There is a new self proclaimed high septon, he calls himself the Lord of the seven, he claims he was chosen by the gods. He accepts coins from the nobles who seek to make the small folk pay for their own punishment.” The queen was well aware of the result when it came to prioritizing the common people, many nobles has been exposed by both the small folk and the servants themselves yet she never expected for the nobles to form an alliance with the faith militant. The people who took her son.

“I assure you Kevan, you problems will be dealt with” she spoke firmly. “Where would I might find this so called Lord of the seven?”.

“You sit so comfortably “Tyanna said bowing her head. The throne was completely empty and only y/n sat the throne lost in her thoughts, her body completely leaning against the throne fully relaxed. The day was late but it was yet to end “it’s a chair” y/n replied. Tyanna rolled her eyes walking closer to the bottom of the steps her heels clicking and echoing in the empty hall. “A throne, one which your brother is currently desiring “ Tyanna corrected her.

“You have not been of much use lately” she told Tyanna her voice slightly annoyed.

“I tell her grace what she should hear” Tyanna smirked “Not what she wants to hear”. It was clear she kept information from the queen, the only thing she could do as an act of defiance.

“Within a fortnight Lady Westerling and Lady Costayne will arrive. Yet you refuse to cooperate, even though your tittle and power are diminishing” y/n muttered. “Tell about me Rhaena…Will she be the third bride” Y/n had not received a letter from her sister which only filled her suspicions.

“He send a message..pardon her for her acts if she married him, and bend the knee“ Tyanna told her “It was just answered and she has agreed”. It felt strange that the once defiant sister had easily accepted such ridiculous proposal. But she had her own daughters to protect and for that y/n did not blame her. Tyanna was not by all means pleased with his decisions, she was jealous having to share Maegor but seeing y/n not care for the king and only worry about the throne made her feel something.Feelings she struggled to hide, feelings that would make the hatred for her vanish.

Y/n did not care for Tyanna let alone Maegor. Though having Tyanna as a spy was a useful benefit her, she would not side with the woman that killed her brother. “That will be all” she dismissed her.

The place reeked,even if she held her scented handkerchief close to her nose she still could smell the decaying stench. They had made the outside of the Grand Sept their home, and even in the outdoors the smell of facies was potent enough to make her gag. She had the king’s guard by her side an and few guards ready to defend her if any of them attacked. As she was about to climb the steps a group of men dressed in grey robes blocked her path. She had not come to discuss peace terms with the lunatics that terrorized the streets she had come to put an end to it. The men did not say anything simply blocked her path not flinching or moving. She looked back Ser Olyver standing behind her, his sword tightly held on his hand.

“Clear it out” she ordered not bothering to look back at the group. Without hesitation the white cloaks took out their sword and swooped to clear out the steps. She did not look back as heard the agonizing screams of the faith militant. The sound of crushing skulls and the clanking of metal attracted the attention of the common folk. They watched in horror as the King’s guard stained their cloaks. Leaving no room for escape each guard cut through them swiftly and each body fell one by one.

It was Ser Olyver who climbed the steps of the sept clearing his path with his sword in hand. He looked for the so called Lord of the seven ready to take his head. He stopped at his tracks instantly spotting a knelt man praying to the Father above. Ser Olyver took off his helmet the only noises were the screams and clacking of metal . The king’s guard would clear not only the sept but the Red keep. In his pocket was a list of names of nobles who conspired against the throne. He would help queen y/n restore greatness to Westeros.

The lord of the seven had his eyes closed and silently prayed, his voice coming out in rigid whispers. He swallowed knowing soon his head would fall from his shoulders, but he will meet the gods and they would reward him. He was wrong.

He gasped as his lungs filled with water. Burning his nose and throat as his head was shoved into water. He was about the scream but his head was submerged again. He coughed loudly unsure of where he was. “What?” He breathed loudly trying to fight off the dizziness. He felt a sharp pain on his jaw that made his eyes focused on a woman who stood next to a guard. “Leave us” she ordered. The old man had his hands and feet tied up and could not move even if he tried. He was shoved into the dirty floor his face slamming hard against the stone. He felt the drool mixed with blood pour down his mouth. He spat out a tooth, his mouth full of the metallic taste of blood.

“I always pictured this moment “ the voice said. He was on the ground and the only thing visible was the dark red dress she wore. “Only it was you who had me at your mercy” she said dryly, her dress circling around him. “You were reason I never slept, the reason I was paranoid of everything, I was afraid to close my eyes. Afraid you would come take my children” she said pausing her steps for a moment. The old man looked up and was met by a white harried maiden. Dressed in beautiful red and black gown, her hair neatly done and her hands fidgeted with her rings. “I was, so consumed with grief my daughter did have a mother for the first months of her life ” she said biting the inside of her cheek.

“Your child” he moaned In pain his limbs suddenly aching “was an abomination “ his voice weak and fragile.

“Yes but was mine!” she snapped her eyes filled with anger, her teeth dug in the inside of her cheek so tightly she too could taste blood. “He was not a monster, he was a child!” She hissed. The man did not respond, the man simply lay on the ground twitching in agony. “My child”

The lord of the seven began to drag himself across the floor, the little strength he had used it to try and sit up. “I’m, not much of a believer, I never was. But I do believe that if you could, you would kill the rest of my children.”

The man let out a painful groan as struggled to reach the wall. “You were out for.. a week mayhaps “ she said “the king’s guard made sure to torture you even when your eyes were closed.” She said her hands folding together unsure what to do with them. She wanted for him to feel pain, her pain. “You will at no one’s mercy and you will beg for forgiveness. Not it is sufficient “

The old man spat out again this time more blood came out of this mouth “You” he gasped “Will have to KILL me!”. She hummed almost finding his outburst amusing. Her hands folding together unsure what to do with them, she would not touch him

“Kill you?” She sneered “no, I won’t kill you but the days will stretch and you will wish I did ”. She wanted him to suffer and he would be locked in the smallest chamber and be tortured severely but still he kept alive. The old man had not been caught by Maegor which only made the interaction more satisfying for her. She was avenging her son but it was not enough in her eyes. “The heads of your followers are currently on spikes but you won’t join them, not any time soon”. She looked at him with disgust as he watch him finally sit up. It was pathetic how long it took him, she simply knocked him back down with her foot.

“For Aegon” it was the last thing the man heard before she turned blew out the torches . Leaving him trapped in the cramped cell with nothing but his pain and that rats that would soon eat him.

————————————————————————

She stood overlooking the gates watching the last lord be hang for treason. She stood and watched more than twenty nobles hang from walls, she had spared the lives of a few of them and instead of hanging them she send three lords to the wall, where they will forever rot without titles or lands.

She would welcomed Elionor Costayne and Jeyne Westerling and even her sister Rhaena. But she would not care for them they wound fend for themselves just as she had. It had taken many losses and years for her to be forged into the woman who currently sat the iron throne in her husbands absence. Maegor was cruel , heartless and a tyrant, she had hid behind him, devoted her life to him. But she now clawed her way up the wheel clinging to power. Crushing anything beneath her path that could risked the lives of children.

It was her nature to protect the innocent.