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

062▪️ THE TEMPTRESS & THE DRAGON

Charlotte sipped in turn, letting the flavor roll on her tongue. She stepped back toward the model, admiring the intricate buildings. "Valyria is magnificent."

Maegor raised his goblet slowly, his eyes narrowing with a quiet glint of amusement. "Not many care for the dust of my ancestors. Especially not women of your... refinement."

Charlotte tilted her head slightly, unbothered by the insinuation. Her lips curled as she lifted her own goblet, the crimson wine catching the light. "That's because they don't understand what fire can do to the mind when it doesn't only burn, but enlightens."

He paused.

"Most look at Valyria and see ruin," she continued, her tone low and melodic, "but I see evolution. They bled the skies dry with dragons, yes, but they also built wonders no one dares to replicate. Who else would forge a city into the mouth of a volcano and call it home?"

Maegor's eyes lingered on her now, the rim of his goblet brushing his lower lip, but he did not drink. The smirk that formed was slower this time, thoughtful.

Charlotte let the silence stretch before stepping closer. "The Anogrion, the glass candles, the shadowbinders, the blood spells... You build monuments, Your Grace, but what you truly crave is resurrection."

Maegor's lips parted slightly in surprise, though he hid it quickly behind his goblet and took a slow sip.

Charlotte smiled, savoring the taste of wine. "And what you've built here is more than stone. It's a vision. One worthy of your name."

He chuckled, deep and brief, shaking his head. ""No, no... I merely pore over old scrolls and sketch dreams. The stonemasons shape them.....but the legacy is not my vision alone, but that of House Targaryen."

"But the dream is yours," she said gently, placing her goblet down. "And dreams are what built Valyria."

A flicker passed through his eyes. Something sharp. Something impressed.

She stepped closer, her tone growing silkier. "Do you believe Westeros can be another Valyria, Your Grace?"

Maegor's posture shifted as if roused from a thought. He moved toward her, slow and fluid, a shadow of a smile forming.

"Viserys hoped it would be," he said at last. "But that depends do you speak of the Freehold at its zenith... or at its fall?"

He picked up a stone dragon from the model, its wings stretched mid-flight. The weight of it turned thoughtfully in his hands.

"Over a thousand dragons," he murmured, "a navy large enough to cast a shadow over every sea. A civilization so drunk on power they believed fire would never consume them. The glory of Old Valyria," he said, eyes distant, "will never be seen again."

"I wonder," she murmured, "if anyone has ever ruled without love... and still built something eternal."

Maegor moved to her side. "Love is fleeting. Power is not."