Colorful candles waved in the soft breeze of the gardens. If the flames went too far into the side, the flowers would catch fire, and Maegor would laugh at the panic that followed, unamused by the entire festivities as he was.

Tapestries hung from the entrances of the courtyard, each of them made out of delicate silk that he had spent too much gold on. He would've preferred not to waste his time nor his coin in such frivolous gatherings, but Tyanna had insisted upon it and he could not deny his wife.

The guests avoided him, most of the time, but he took no offense in it, for a change of pace — he, too, didn't wish for his own presence that evening, for every attempt at conversation thrown his way was met with a scowl and a grumble. He had never liked parties, never liked feasts, and had never interested himself in social settings.

He pressed his fist against his cheek, thumb rubbing anxiously at his beard. A habit he could never break, and Visenya, when still alive, had reprimanded him for it time and time again — he would do it so much that the skin would turn red raw, and the flesh beneath would become irritated to the touch.

Maegor found that he could not bear to hear the sound of laughter coming from the nobles, the flake pleasantries and lies that slipped out of their tongues like poison. A poison they could all swallow and choke upon.

Violet eyes settled upon violet lace.

Rare, like starlight upon the night skies in rainy days. A beacon of light on a storm, when rainbows would come and cover the land with a beautiful sheen. If not that, then stars falling through the darkness, blanketing the moon with shimmer.

He stood before he could stop himself, footsteps heavy and laced with a hint of desperation he had never felt before in his life. People moved out of the way, and their gazes followed him, as if startled by the sheer presence of the man.

Maegor extended his hand outward, calloused palm turned upward. An offering as his eyes met your own, a challenge, in a way. The Dornish were a rare sight in King's Landing, to see a Dayne, then...

"Join me for a walk."

Not a request, not a plea. It was a command, made by the king himself. He would not take no for an answer.