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

060▪️ THE TASTE OF SIN

Above the black sky of the Stormlands, fireworks bloomed like dragonfire, red, gold, green, and blue bursting into light and thunder that echoed over cliff and coast.

The sea roared beneath the craggy bluff where Storm's End sat proud and ancient, its halls alive with celebration. The air carried salt and song. Bells tolled through the night sky, calling the houses to bear witness.

Ser Orys Baratheon and Lady Naiomi Hightower were married, their union sealed under the gods. Storm's End, fortress of storms, now played host to the brightest moment of peace and festivity.

The great hall had been transformed, flames flickered in iron sconces, silk banners of House Baratheon and Hightower draped across the walls, gold and green, black and silver.

At the heart of it all was Naiomi, radiant in a fitted gown of pale ivory silk threaded with golden roses and Highgarden lace. Her hair was coiled into elegant braids that shimmered with pearls.

She was beauty made flesh, spinning on the dance floor with Ser Orys, who looked at her as if she were the sun. Her laughter rang like chimes as they danced, spinning to the music.

The hall watched, enraptured, nobles from every corner of the realm joining in men and women in jewel-toned finery, drunk on wine and joy.

King Maegor sat at the high table beneath a carved stone arch bearing the sigil of House Baratheon a crowned stag in fury. He watched the merriment with a cool expression, sipping dark wine from a heavy goblet. Yet even his brooding presence did not dull the lightness of the night.

To his left sat Princess Rhaenyra, her fingers absently tracing the rim of her cup, her gaze flickering toward Charlotte Hightower, seated across from her, always leaning forward with a fruit between her fingers, arching subtly, hoping Maegor might glance her way.

Rhaenyra caught her eye and held it a silent challenge. You will never win his heart. Their gazes locked, tension sharp as steel.

To Maegor's right sat Lord Boremund Baratheon, his silvered beard bristling as he raised his goblet. "I'm glad Orys remarried," he said gruffly. "The boy has known grief, like a ghost in the storm. Naiomi is a fine match."

Maegor hummed low, sipping. "He did the right thing," he muttered, eyes following the swirling couples.

Boremund smirked. "Perhaps very soon, we'll be having a wedding in the capital."

A ripple went through the high table. Heads turned subtly. The small council cleared their throats. Princess Rhaenyra lifted her brows. Charlotte paused, mid-bite. Even Ser Otto Hightower glanced sidelong.

Maegor said nothing. His crimson eyes drifted across the room, nobles from every house dotted the tables, drinking, laughing.

Even his rumoured mistress, Lady Selena Dayne was in attendance, her grey eyes glued to the King, her stare intense and unbroken.