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

011▪️ CHAOS IN THE KEEP

Night fell upon the Red Keep, cloaking the towering castle in an eerie stillness. The sky was ink-black, speckled with faint stars barely visible beyond the drifting clouds.

Torches burned along the high stone walls, flickering against the looming towers, their golden glow casting long, wavering shadows across the courtyard.

The air was crisp, carrying the scent of the Blackwater Bay as the waves lapped lazily against the cliffs beneath the castle.

Within the halls, servants scurried about, their soft footfalls echoing against the stone floors as they prepared for the evening meal.

The great corridors were lined with tapestries depicting ancient Targaryen conquests, their scarlet dragons roaring across woven fields of black and gold. At the heart of the castle, behind heavy oaken doors carved with Valyrian glyphs, lay the Royal Dining Hall.

Inside, golden candelabras lined the long banquet table, their candlelight illuminating the polished wooden surface where an extravagant feast was spread.

Platters of roasted boar glazed with honey, bowls of thick venison stew, and fresh loaves of bread filled the air with a rich aroma. Pomegranates, figs, and grapes lay in silver bowls, their vibrant colors a contrast to the dark wood.

A bronze jug of Dornish red wine sat near the head of the table, already half-emptied.

Seated at the grand table was King Maegor Targaryen, his powerful frame draped in black and crimson silk. His long silver-gold hair was unbound, cascading over his broad shoulders, while his piercing red eyes gleamed in the candlelight.

Beside him, his wife, Queen Mellario Martell, reclined gracefully, her dusky skin glowing beneath the soft torchlight. Her growing belly, evidence of her long-awaited pregnancy, was adorned with golden chains and amethysts. She delicately lifted her goblet, sipping wine as she listened intently to the men beside her.

Opposite them, Prince Daemon Targaryen lounged in his seat, his silver hair falling messily over his forehead, his sharp grin never fading. His black doublet was unlaced at the throat, revealing a hint of his collarbone, as he gestured animatedly while recounting tales of their youth.

Across from him, Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen sat quietly, pushing a grape around her plate with the tip of her dagger. The conversation swirled around her, but she barely listened, lost in thought.

"Do you remember when we were boys, brother?" Daemon laughed, cutting into his venison with ease. "You must! That time we snuck out of the castle and took those poor fools' horses? We rode them through the streets of King's Landing like wildlings."

Maegor smirked, shaking his head. "And got caught, if I recall. Father had us whipped."

Daemon snorted. "Only because you decided to challenge that knight to a duel in the middle of Flea Bottom!"