TO LOVE A KING || Maegor II Targaryen [SLOW UPDATES]

048▪️A DANGEROUS PLEASURE

The air in the Red Keep was stifling, thick with the weight of political maneuvering and unresolved tension. After the Small Council meeting had dissolved into yet another round of fruitless debates, Maegor felt the need to escape, to shed the oppressive robes of authority that bound him.

The council had been a battlefield, filled with whispering lords and scheming ministers, all demanding more of him than he was willing to give.

His patience had frayed at the edges, his mind simmering with anger and frustration, but his body his body ached with a different kind of hunger. A hunger he was too familiar with.

So, he turned away from the expectations of the crown, choosing instead to seek solace in the shadowy corners of the Red Keep.

He made his way to his chambers, his movements deliberate, as though he were trying to outrun the suffocating weight of his title.

Maegor bathed quickly, scrubbing away the day's grime and stress, and then donned simple attire, dark and unassuming, a cape that billowed behind him like a cloak of anonymity.

The familiar secret passage beckoned, a hidden route through the bowels of the castle, one he had come to favor when he needed to escape the prying eyes of the court.

His feet carried him through the passage, his mind distracted by the weight of his thoughts, but his heart his heart burned with a restless fury that had been building for weeks. The blood of Targaryen ran hot, and Maegor, more than most, felt its searing pull.

The streets of King's Landing were alive with their usual bustle as Maegor emerged into the night, the flickering light of torches illuminating the cobblestones and casting long shadows on the alleys.

The familiar hum of the city was charged with a certain energy, and in the streets, women of all kinds called out to passing men.

Their voices were thick with invitation, their bodies on display, offering warmth for a price. Breasts bared, hips swaying, they were like wildflowers blooming in the darkness, their beauty something to be bought, their affection a commodity.

But Maegor felt nothing for them not tonight. His gaze, cold and distant, ignored the beckoning calls. He was not here for idle distractions.

He needed something more. Something to drown the gnawing frustration, the simmering loneliness that gnawed at his insides like a beast starved of its prey.

His thoughts turned toward the pleasure houses, the dens of vice and sin, where he could lose himself for a few hours. It wasn't companionship he sought it was escape.

He entered the nearest house of indulgence, its doors wide and welcoming. Inside, the air was thick with the scent of incense, wine, and sweat. Men lounged in corners, some already deep in carnal embraces with women who seemed eager to please.

The atmosphere was heady, intoxicating, a swirl of bodies intertwined in blissful abandon. Orgasmic moans mingled with the clinking of glasses, and the rhythmic sound of flesh against flesh echoed through the halls.