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

067▪️THE KING'S INTEREST

The lake lay still, a silver mirror stretching beneath the breaking light of dawn. Mist clung to the edges like breath held too long, and birds chirped faintly in the distance, as if not to disturb the hush that blanketed the water.Birds chirped hesitantly, as if unsure whether to pierce the sacred silence.

From the center of the lake, she emerged, bare, radiant, untamed.

Auburn hair clung to her wet skin, slicked to her neck in wild waves. cascading down her back in loose. Her form was delicate, slender, almost sylph-like with a grace born not of polish, but of ease.

She giggled to herself, a sound bright and unbothered, cutting through the hush like wind through reeds. Her hands skimmed the water, catching light. She swam freely, unaware.

Her perky breasts caught the golden hue, her hips swayed slightly with each step, the water streaming down her legs like melted light.

Alicent giggled to herself, wading through the cold lake with a soft splash, dipping her head one last time before emerging fully. She was alive in the moment, just a woman at peace with nature, the crisp air kissing her skin, her heartbeat in sync with the water's rhythm.

On the edge of the woods, a pair of eyes burned and lingered.

He sat still upon his horse, cloaked in shadow, hidden beneath branches heavy with morning dew.

King Maegor, unbending, unyielding, and yet for this brief, stolen moment utterly still, cloaked in shadow and silence. A flame flickered behind his eyes, not rage, not hunger something older. Something more dangerous.

Lust.

Hunger.

Desire.

He had no right to it. And yet.

His breath hitched as she began to walk from the water, bare, unguarded, untouched by shame. The sun, traitorous and slow, climbed just high enough to gild her skin, casting molten reflections across her wet body. He should have turned away.

He didn't.

Alicent Hightower had slipped away from court under the excuse of riding. She'd longed for Oldtown's smell, for laughter in the markets and sun-warmed stone. The walls of the Red Keep had grown colder since the queen died, and colder still under Maegor's rule.

She dressed slowly on the grass, wrapping herself in her riding cloak, humming an old tune from Oldtown. She missed the cobbled streets, the smell of honey and ink, the voices of merchants calling in the morning.

She had sought silence. Nature. Freedom.
Instead, she'd been seen.

Mounting her horse, Alicent rode off, unaware of the fire she'd lit in a King's cold heart.

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