"Beast. Tyrant. Merciless. They whisper these names behind my back. But when I say, I love you, it is not out of desire, nor out of denial. It is not for my sake at all. I love you for what you are, for what you do, for how you fight. I have witness...
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Maegor remained behind, standing alone in the dimly lit sanctuary. A path had been laid before him, and he would not squander this opportunity.
Slowly, he turned his gaze upward to the skull of Balerion. The ancient beast, the pride of Aegon the Conqueror. A dragon so mighty its fire had melted stone and forged the very Iron Throne itself. A dragon once ridden by Maegor the Cruel, the king whose name he bore.
For a long moment, he studied its form-the jagged teeth, sharp as steel; the hollow sockets that once held eyes full of fire. Then, with quiet reverence, he stepped closer to the altar, lighting a candle before kneeling in solemn prayer.
Before the old gods, the new, and the gods of Old Valyria, Maegor swore an oath. He would keep the realm in balance. He would not sow division or strife. He would be the king Westeros needed.
Maegor's resolve had hardened. He took one last look at Balerion's skull, inhaled deeply, then turned away. Exiting the altar room, he walked the narrow corridors of the Red Keep, his footsteps echoing through the halls as he ascended to the palace's upper levels, retreating to his chambers.
In a matter of weeks, the lords of the realm would arrive to swear their fealty. He had to be ready.
For a kingdom without a king was ripe for the taking.
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The massive double doors to the throne room are swung wide by two Targaryen household guards, each stationed on either side, standing vigilant.
Inside, the Great Hall is filled with a multitude of people, their voices a soft murmur. Above them, the banners and sigils of various noble houses hang proudly the Kingdom of the North, the Kingdom of the Mountain and the Vale, the Kingdom of the Isles and the Rivers, the Kingdom of the Rock, the Kingdom of the Stormlands, the Kingdom of the Reach, and the Principality of Dorne symbols of power and legacy decorating the chamber.
All eyes turn as Prince Maegor Targaryen, Second of His Name, enters with purposeful strides. Clad in the Targaryen colors of red and black, his presence commands attention. At his side, the ancestral sword Oathkeeper, forged from Valyrian steel, rests in its sheath. His hauberk glints in the light, a silent testament to his strength.
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