TO LOVE A KING || Maegor II Targaryen [BEING REWRITTEN]

05 ▪️ NEW RISE, NEW DAWN

After the charred remains of King Viserys I Targaryen and Queen Aemma Arryn were cremated on the somber grounds of Rheanys Hill, the realm sank into a period of mourning that stretched across fifty-five days.

On the sixth day, as the final echoes of fall faded into winter's chill, their ashes were laid to rest beneath the Red Keep, hidden deep within the crypts that housed the bones of their ancestors.

The following day of sabbath (seventh day), whispers rippled through the capital, as the bells tolled relentlessly from daybreak. The sound echoed throughout King's Landing, reaching all the way to Dragonstone, reverberating from the seven gates of the Great Sept.

The bells sang their mournful song, marking the significance of the day to come. The air was thick with anticipation, as the realm prepared to witness the coronation of the new king.

Lords, ladies, and noblemen from across the Seven Kingdoms gathered in the streets, their voices rising above the sounds of the bells. The time had come for the sixth Targaryen to ascend to the Iron Throne, to carry the weight of the realm upon his shoulders.

"Make way! Move, move!" shouted Captain Randyll Barret as the royal procession made its way through the crowded streets. "Hyah! Hyah!"

"Make way for the royal wheelhouse!" echoed another voice, and the streets were filled with the sound of hooves pounding against the cobblestones. Guards shouted for the people to step aside, as the royal wheelhouse neared.

The bells continued to toll, their heavy sound resonating throughout the city, heralding the monumental event. As the royal procession moved forward, Prince Maegor, now twenty-four years old, prepared to take on the mantle that had once belonged to his late brother.

No longer the baby of the family, he was now the one who would assume the heavy responsibilities of leadership, leading with a sharp resolve that matched the fire in his eyes.

Accompanied by the King's Guard, a unit of elite men-at-arms, the Gold Cloaks of the City Watch, and his Unsullied, fierce warriors who had sworn loyalty to him, Prince Maegor cut an imposing figure as he moved toward the Great Sept.

These were no ordinary soldiers. The Unsullied, bred and trained in the ruthless cities of Slaver's Bay, had been forged in the crucible of battle.

Maegor had heard of their discipline and strength, and his ambition had driven him to travel from Qarth to Astapor, where he had purchased thousands of them.

With millions in gold coins, Maegor bought not only the Unsullied but also the loyalty of their commanders. In exchange for five thousand battle-hardened soldiers and five thousand more still in training, he had forged an unbreakable bond with them. The bargain had been sealed when Maegor had gifted the Good Masters of Astapor one of the dragons, Stormcloud, as a token of his dominance.

Once he had secured their loyalty, Maegor had ordered the massacre of the Good Masters and their soldiers, sparing only the children and freeing all slaves found in the city. In the aftermath of the brutal conquest, Maegor had asked the Unsullied to swear loyalty to the Targaryen dynasty as free men, bound not by chains but by their own honor.