"Come here sweet niece"

If it were possible for Maegor the cruel to be gentle then he was only for you. His sweet little niece, also his wife. Your belly swollen and full under the silks he lavished on you, his hands hardly leave your stomach these days.

After six wives and barren wombs he took you to wife, deciding that your blood was strongest. A pure Targaryen baby, what the gods intended.

Maegor was far from a patient man but took his time with you, his sweet little niece needed his affection to bear him a healthy heir. Over the months since wedding you before the lords of the realm he has become fond of you. So sweet and docile, always so willing to please him.

When you finally began to show and the maesters informed him his seed had taken, he took you to bed again, waking half the red keep with his triumph. Finally, an heir.

He grins lazily from his position on the iron throne, beckoning you as he holds council. His mother, dowager queen Visenya watches you with obvious approval after all, the blood of the dragon requires blood of the dragon.

"How is my son?" He flattens a hand over your womb and noses at your neck "How is my pretty wife?" He all but croons