To Love A King || Maegor Targaryen || ON HOLD

15 • FAMILY & DUTY

At the gardens beyond the Black Water Bay, a cock, ruffling his feathers in the cold damp, crowed hoarsely for the third time.

After ten days of unconsciousness, Maegor opened his red orbs and saw a black velvet canopy bed, way higher above him, stone walls and beamed ceiling of the large chamber, his surrounding was quite familiar even in his state of survival.

The King moved his head, grimacing with pain, and moaned. His neck was bandaged, his chest and back were bandaged thickly, thoroughly, professionally.

By his bed post, stood the Grand Maester, tendering to health, a Septon lights candles while two maester sits at a writing desk making notes.

Maegor's slightly opens his eyes, blinking it thrice. "Fuck." he groans, trying to move his body.

"Lie still, Your Grace," said Mellos. "Lie, do not move."

"Mellario." the King mutters. "How's my wife?"

"The Queen is abed Your Grace."

Maegor grunts. "Where's Foltest?"

"Lord Foltest has returned back to Castellan. Your Grace, House Yrden is forever in your debt." Mellos reports.

"And the girl?" Maegor whispered.

Mellos sighs. "She is well Your Grace, normal like a human, death no longer plagues Harrenhal and the South." He dutifully says.

"The girl is thin, and somewhat dull-witted. She weeps incessantly and wets her bed. But Lord Foltest says this will change. I don't think it'll change for the worse, but she will be fine" Mellos informs the King.

Maegor closed his eyes and groans in pain.

"Careful Your Grace. She slit your neck, especially your back open quite thoroughly. One could see everything you have inside there. You lost a great deal of blood. Fortunately as soon as we received a raven of your whereabouts, we hurried you to the palace straight after the third crowing of the cock. The Red Keep has been gravely disturbed by your absence. Her Grace hardly slept in the nights. It was impossible; you made a terrible noise while stitching your wounds. Does my talking tire you?" Mellos asked keenly but as he leans close, he realized the King was asleep.

Grand Maester Mellos, checked his pulse, got up and took his leave, dismissing the maesters in the room, as they all exit the King's quarters.

•••••••••
ONE WEEKS LATER

At the South Wing of Maegor's Holdfast in Red Keep, in the King's Apartments. Three men were attending to the King whilst the Hand stood three inch away from him.

Maegor's neck was healed, no there were no scarrs thankfully. He stares out the window of his solar at the setting sun. He lies face-down on a table, his entire back exposed as they examined his stitched fleshy wound.

Grand Maester Mellos as well as two other attending maesters, work on peeling away a poultice that was applied to his back.

Otto Hightower stands by, observing. What he sees beneath is quite a good progress of healing.

"Has it healed?" Maegor demands.

"It's healing gradually, Your Grace. It will take time for your flesh to heal." Mellos tells him standing nearby. Viserys flinches as Mickon examines the wound.

The news is concerting to Maegor's ears.

The maesters study the wound, morbidly fascinated. It's at the middle of his back and is about the size of a banana. The tissue seems to be healing gradually.