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Maegor watched, he always did. He watched the way you stepped back from the Lords who tried too hard to gain your affection. He watched how you would look down when your Ladies In Waiting's gossiped about court slowly pushing you out of the conversation. But more importantly he watched how your innocent frown ridden face lit up when your guard came up to you.
Ser Lyonal Florent.
He was a man battle ridden and scared, face cold as the ice beyond the wall and body as stiff as the steel of his sword. But he only softened for you, the young Targaryen Princess who would rather talk to the rabbit in the gardens than ever speak to a knight or lady of court.
And you? The shy daughter of Visenya and Aegon the conqueror, the little sister to the cruel King, you seemed to relax with him. Maegor thinks it must be this fact neither of you pry to know more than you're willing to give. Both quiet and observant. Both too close for his comfort.
You always relied on him, your older brother, your protector. But now that you saw what he's capable of, saw what he did to that Lord who dared ask for a second dance with you, you've been keeping your distance.
He sees the way you glance up at him with apprehension in those amethyst eyes that used to be filled with joy and a sense of safety.
He hates it, hates watching you cling to your guard instead of him. Hates that it's his third wife Tyanna at his feet and not you. Hates that she speaks of future children and not of the flowers that bloomed or the way Balerion and Moonfyre seemed to play.
“Your sister seems quite taken with her Guard, that's a good sign is it not?” Tyanna says as her finger swirls along his knee and slowly makes its way higher.
Maegor gripped his wine chalice tighter at those words, but his wife must've thought it meant she was breaking his restraint. Deft fingers barely grazing his trousers cords, and a smirk of victory along those crimson painted lips.
“And tell me, how is that a good thing?” He all but growls out a look of warning in his violet eyes.
For what it's worth Tyanna does know when a threat is near, even if she is persistent for his affection. Though that doesn't mean she doesn't try her luck more often than she should.
“I only meant it would be awful for her to be uncomfortable with him like she was with the last one. House Piper still hasn't shown their faces at feasts since that day.”
Maegor can tell from the way her hands tremble slightly that she knows she is on thin ice. Probably even suspects he knows how she ruined your dress for tonight, the one you so excitedly crafted with your own hands.
“Well if their son wasn't such a womanizer maybe he would still be taking breath instead of having his eyes poked out by crows.”
The memory of seeing you looking up at your guard, the person who was supposed to protect you from the hands of men, pinning you to the wall as he linked at your neck still burns into his mind. Maegor can still hear the way you begged him to let you go, begged him to stop. Gods you even fought against his grip but you were always so frail that even a squire could over power you.
But what truly stays with him, even in his dreams are your screams when Maegor cut his head clean off. He didn't wait to accuse the Knight, didn't wait for him to let you go. His rage was too far gone for that. And it's his deepest regret, for you were never supposed to see this side of him. The side that kills and burns. You were only supposed to see the kind older brother, the one who held your hand as you walked through the gardens little tot hands clutching your favorite flowers of the day, cherub cheeks rosy from joy and the sun. The one protected you as you grew into a beautiful woman any man would desire.
But now you know, you've felt the blood he spills. It even ruined your favorite rose gold dress.
He was the only one you ever needed ever since you were born.
He was only a boy when you were born, not even double digits. An only child unless you counted Aenys which he never did. Why should their Father never truly acknowledge him as his son? He was always Visenya's son, always the Queen's son. Never their son . But Aenys? He was Father's son, he was his and Rhaenys boy, he was bright and kind while Maegor was cold and dark.
But that changed when you came along. He wasn't the one left behind only to feel comfort in his mother's grasp that always seemed to cut too deep, always seemed to scar and bruise. He had someone who could understand what he went through. Understand why he hated Aenys. Understand why he never looked Father in the eyes for all he would find was disappointment no matter how hard he worked at the sword, no matter if he made his hands bloody from his efforts or his vision blurry from all the studying. Be was never enough, and he knew you would understand.
But he was wrong.
Father adored you, the little girl he always wanted. No, the little girl Rhaenys always wanted. You were pure and kind, helping the gardeners pick weeds and plant new flowers. You thrived in the sun, thrived in the light. And yet you clung to him, the person who was all hatred and darkness. The person people write ghost stories about to scare children into behaving.
You never wanted Father, saying he talked too much about someone you didn't know. It didn't take Maegor more than a second to realize he must have been talking about the late Queen Rhaenys.
You didn't want Mother, saying she was too scary. He didn't blame you, Mother wanted perfection and for a little toddler who craved the sun and light you were always a mess of scraped knees and mud stained dresses.
But it was Aenys you avoided the most. You always said he never seemed to enjoy it when you were around. And Maegor knew why. Aenys wasn't Father's world anymore. For all the speeches of always loving one another no matter what, of always being there for one another, he didn't seem too keen to it when Father started obsessing over you.
No it was Maegor, the one whose hands were scarred with the need to be loved, that held you when you cried. The one who's eyes seemed cold as ice but to you seemed like a warm campfire. The one who could snap you in half with no more force than it took him to climb into a horse's saddle. You picked him. But not anymore that honor for that Florent bastard.
You see him for what he is now. A murderer who will never stop until he has everything he wants, and even he doesn't know when it'll be enough, if it'll ever be enough.
“Lord Penrose asked me to dance, my love.” Tyanna says in that tone that means she wants a reaction from him. Usually he'd give it to her, let her have her little game and satisfaction of thinking she's all he truly needs. Let her believe that lie she always told herself. But not tonight, not when you talked to that foreign lord. The one who tho8ght it would be alright to whisper something in your ear. Something that made your eyes shine like the purest amethysts.
Maegor didn't grant Tyanna a reaction, only a wave of a hand dismissing her as if she was no different from the maids who fed him.
He knew she would hate it, hate that he didn't care if she danced with a lord or two. Thought he wanted her all to himself, but you can't truly be the full owner of something if it's been used by others. And with Tyanna it's more than Maegor wants to ever find out.
But he was done letting her have her fantasy. Letting her think she was anything more than a means to an end.
All of his wives were. They were only here and called Queen's because he allowed it, and if he had it his way none of them would hold the title. It would only go to one person, and one person alone.
But his Mother denied him. Said you could be used for more political use than being his wife. But when he asked who you would be wed to she would only lift her head and look at him with that scornful look she used since he was a child. The one that even now makes him stand stiff and watch her warily waiting for her willow stick to snap his knuckles. Or worse his back.
He swore when you were born he would never let you feel that pain. The sting met with the stench of blood. Thankfully he didn't have to take it for you, Father refused to let Mother use such disciplines on you. Saying how it would steer good men away if your knuckles were calloused and scared, or if your back was welted with the remnants of her demand for respect.
Though Maegor had to admit it hurt that Father didn't care that his knuckles were cracked and stiff, or that his back was scarred to the point it was mostly numb.
Maegor couldn't help but stretch his shoulders, reminding himself he had to be perfect. Had to be strong. But he was brought out of his thoughts but the sound of your laughter.
Unrestrained and filled with joy. Just as it should be, how it was always meant to be.
He watched as you danced with some Lord from the Reach if the brown almost auburn hair and chubby build was any indicator.
He fought against himself to walk down there. Gripping the throne and letting the metal of the swords bite his flesh, not enough to bleed but enough to remember his role.
He didn't even notice the way Ceyrse danced with her Guard. Body too close to be proper, and eyes filled with love and trust. He didn't notice how Tyanna practically toyed with Lord Penrose, whispering in his ear before guiding his hand towards his breasts.
No none of that mattered, not when you smiled like that for some forgettable Lord from an even more forgettable house. Not when all Maegor could do was glare at him as he shamelessly flirted with you. Not that you noticed, too naive and trusting to realize a man's true intentions.
The rest of the ball went by in a blur of silent rage and gritted teeth.
Maegor stood up from the throne once it was time to depart, but not before noticing that foreign lord handed you a box. He wanted to know what he gave you, wanted to ask, no, demand to know why you blushed scarlet as you left. But just as he was about to leave another Lord and his halfway decent daughter came up with flattery hoping beyond hope he would take favor with her.
He never did, not unless he was truly bored.
So he stood there, taking their flattery about his rein and what a wonderful ball he threw. All lies, he knew it, everyone did. He was seen as a tyrant, and the ball was rushed after Tyanna demanded a celebration for some holiday from her homeland.
But Maegor took the praise, allowing them to believe he cared what they thought of him. All while wishing to go to you, to find you.
By the time he left he was sure you would be asleep, but he didn't care he would see what was in that gift. He had to, to protect you, there was no other reason.
Maegor knew where he was going, he didn't care about the maids who made themselves small as he passed. Didn't care about the sound of drunken laughter followed by moans in the seemingly empty halls. Not when your chambers were right there, not when all he had to do was enter.
And he did, with more force than he expected, and for the first time in a long time he was stunned at what stood before him.
Maegor blinked once, twice, even rubbed his eyes to see if this image before him would change. But of course it didn't, he couldn't even dream of this.
There you stood, in a traditional Volanti dancer outfit. Gold and rubies adorned your bodice and stomach like chains. Sheer sparkling fabric of rich crimson draped over your arms. And the skirt, if he could even call it that. Was a scrap of fabric of deep burgundy, your legs were showing through the slits. Chains of gold and diamonds dance as you swiftly turn to look at him. And to top it all over, a small chain crown with a golden dragon emblem rests upon your brow.
“Wh– what are you doing here?” You stammer out. Your arms wrap around your middle as if covering yourself will take away the image of your soft milky skin from his mind.
“I wanted to speak with you, but it seems you're busy.” He says closing the door just as Ser Lyonal Florent moves forward after hearing the commotion.
Maegor moves forward, he feels like a man starved with each flicker of flame dancing along your flesh.
Before he knows it he's in front of you taking your arms in his hands and moving them out of the way. Nothing will impede this moment, not even the gods will stop him from drinking in the sight of you.
“Is this the gift that, Volanti lord gave you?” He all but whispers, mind too focused on the sight before him.
He watched as you nod your head meekly, eyes oh so trusting for a woman who came from the blood of the dragon.
“Words, Little Dragon.” He said tilting your head up with his index forcing you to look him in the eyes.
“Yes, he said a beautiful woman like me deserved to express herself. I didn't realize it would be this.”
Maegor could tell you were telling the truth. It was always easy to tell when you were lying. A bite of the lip, it was your tell. Just like his was when he tapped his finger against his chin.
“And yet you put it on? Such vulgar attire seemed fitting to wear in your eyes?” He challenged, he wanted to know why she put it on. Was it curiosity, or something more closely related to desire?
You looked away, and from the way you blushed he knew it was pure curiosity.
“I was curious, it's a whole other world over there. I wanted to know what it was like, even if it was just through their attire.”
He hummed as his thumb slowly brushed your lips. He could feel his cock demanding release, the fabric of his trousers biting into the delicate flesh. And it didn't help the way you looked at him like he would never hurt you, and he wouldn't. Not even in his dreams.
“You know if anyone else came in, they would've thought you a whore. They would've wondered how they were fooled by their sweet, innocent Princess.” Maegor stated matter of factly, he wanted a reaction from you and he ain't disappointed.
You let out a gasp, embarrassment crossing your features as tears brimmed in your eyes. Maegor wanted to lick them from your cheeks. Wanted to know if they would taste as divine as he thought they would.
He watched as you tried to speak, to find anything to say, but he didn't want to hear it, not when your soft plump lips were in his reach. Not when all he had to do was lean down to seal your fate. And he did, and it was better than he ever imagined.
You let out a silent and startled gasp when his lips met yours. The taste of honeyed wine and innocence coating his tongue as your delicate hands gripped his jerkin.
He showed you what to do and slowly your lips moved against his. Inexperienced and clumsy and yet the most perfect miss he'd ever had.
He lived for the way your lips trembled, hands tightening against his clothes. He could see it. Feel it. The mix of fear and desire flowing through you as he slowly moved you towards your bed. Not once letting your lips leave his.
“Do you know how long I've wanted to do this? How many years I have begged Mother to betroth us?” He asked lips railing down your cheek and jaw towards your soft and delicate neck. But he didn't expect a response from you, didn't really want one either.
No he was taking what was his, what should've been given to him long ago.
“Lay down.” He said, voice clear and authoritative, yet gentle, always gentle with you.
“Why?” You asked all while obeying. You layer flat on your back legs slightly dangling off the edge of the couch.
“I'm going to do what I should've done for a while now. Your twenty summers, Little Dragon. It's time you learned what desire and pleasure is.”
He gently raised your legs, hands holding plush thighs in his calloused hands. He moved between your legs with predatory grace taking both your wrists into one hand as the other slowly inched towards your core.
“If you ever want me to stop all you have to do is tell me.” He said after catching the fear in her eyes. But to his shock she settled into the bed with a look of trust and apprehension replacing the fear.
He lets his finger barely brush against your cunt, seeing your reaction, and he wasn't disappointed.
Your brows furrowed in confusion, eyes watching him, and your hands tremble with need you have yet to understand.
You were a vision of purity wrapped in a seductive bow, and he was going to be the one to unwrap it.
“Stay relaxed, it'll feel better that way.” He whispers in your ear, breath fanning over your lobe. He reveled in the shudder of your shoulders and the tremble in your breath.
When he finally let himself touch you, he thought it a holy experience. Your cunt was soaked with need and trust. Trust for a man who was willing to destroy you. To ruin you. To break you so you would be his and his alone.
He let his index slowly sink into your tight wink. It gripped him tight, pulling him in all while trying to force him out.
He couldn't help but chuckle at how you gasped at the intrusion. Doe eyes wide and teary as little whimpers of pleasure leave your pretty petal lips.
He let himself feel you, commit you to memory. Your soft gummy walls grip his finger like a vice and he can only imagine what it will be like around his cock.
He curled his finger and smirked at the moan that left you, back arching and eyes wide with shock.
There it is. He thinks before bullying to spot.
“Maegor.” You whimper hands gripped into fists but he can see you just need to hold onto something, anything.
“What is it, Little Dragon? Do you want me to stop?” He teases his finger coming to a halt before he slowly starts to retreat from your warm confines.
“No!” You all but wail, hips lifting trying to drag him back in.
“Then what do you want?” He all but hums, all while lust floods his blood.
“I– I want to touch you.” You whisper, shame crossing your soft innocent features.
He pretends to think about it before guiding your hands to his shoulders. You seem to relax at the contact only for him to add another finger and move them faster and harder within your soft walls.
He watched everything you did. The way your back arched when his fingers grazed the spot that makes your eyes roll. The way your fingers grip his leather jerkin with a strength and need he never knew you had. But what he loved to watch most was your tears, the ones from this all being too much.
Too much pleasure, too much confusion, too much of him.
He felt the ways your legs trembled, he knew you were close. Your moans came more frequently, more needy and desperate. Your body knew what was going to happen, but the look in your eyes. The confusion that riddled those amethyst pools made his cock jump in his pants. He was sure a stain was forming around his pelvis, and if he was completely honest, he didn't care. Not when he had you in his arms.
“Go on, let go.” He whispered in your ear and within seconds you did as he said. Your cunt clenched around his fingers and your body shuddered as wave after wave of pleasure wracked through you.
He worked you through it, fingers gently moving as your body trembled around him. He made sure to whisper praise to you, and he meant them unlike when he takes a maid, whore, or even his wives.
Once your body stilled he let his slicked fingers leave your warmth before putting them in his mouth to lick your essence. He couldn't stop the groan of pleasure that left his traits at the taste. Tangy, innocent, and unholy, the perfect mixture.
You looked up at him, watching in horror as he licked his fingers clean of you.
“Now this may hurt, but you trust me don't you.” He said, and he made sure to make it clear this wasn't a question. It was a demand.
You nodded meekly as he undressed. First his jerkin and undershirt, and then his boots along with his socks. And finally he started untiring his trousers.
And you? You watched each one leave his body, eyes tracking his scarred flesh. You even reach up to run your fingers along his stomach, your nails tickling the flesh.
Maegor leaned down and took your thighs into his hands. He moved like a tiger after its prey. Slow, silent, deadly.
“Relax, I've got you.” He whispered in your ear before grasping his hard cock and pushing into your tight little cunt.
He groaned at the feel of you, how tight and pure. He reveled in the way you bit down onto his shoulder and clawed at his back.
“Shh, I've got you.” He soothed all while pushing through you. His hands stroked your hair as blood trickled down your chin. The smell of copper and lust filled the room, and he was sure your guard knew what was happening. And like the good dog he is, kept his nose out of the dragons business.
He was slow with his thrusts at first. Letting your body relax and accept the intrusion. And before long your hips were meeting his, and your head was thrown back against the sheets as ruby tinted lips moaned his name.
He looked down at where you met and had to bite his lip to stop from coming at the sight. His silver curls were stained red from you. A clear sign of your innocence. That he was the first to touch you, to take you. And now he'd be the only one. He'd make sure of that.
“You see this, Little Dragon, it means your mine. That I've taken you as mine and mine alone.” He said as he gripped your hair and forced you to see the mess where you two met. \
You cried out in pleasure, walls fluttering faster at the sight, at the claim he has on you.
“Let go, come for me.” He all but growled out before kissing and nipping at your pale slender neck. And you did with a cry of pain and pleasure.
He soon followed you, balls tightening and seed spilling into a pure womb willing to take his seed.
Maegor watched as you lay limp, body covered in sweat, tears and that unholy attire. You were his, even if your two's Mother wanted to deny it.
“Go to sleep, Little Dragon. Me, you and Mother will have an important discussion tomorrow.” He said as he turned you on your side and slipped behind you holding you close.
He didn't care if Mother denied him again, this time he'd kill her. Because you don't take a starved man's meal without consequences.