"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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Beyond the Blackwater Bay, in the damp chill of the gardens, a rooster ruffled its feathers and crowed hoarsely for the third time.
After fourteen days of unconsciousness, Maegor's crimson eyes flickered open. Above him loomed a black velvet canopy, its heavy folds swaying slightly in the dim light.
The stone walls and beamed ceiling of the large chamber were familiar, even in the haze of survival, he knew exactly where he was.
Pain flared through his body as he shifted his head, drawing a low groan from his lips. His neck was thickly bandaged, as were his chest and back, the wrappings expertly secured.
By the bedpost stood Grand Maester Mellos, tending to his recovery. A Septon lit candles, their flickering glow casting restless shadows, while two maesters sat at a writing desk, scribbling notes.
Maegor blinked slowly, his vision sharpening. "Fuck," he muttered, attempting to move.
"Lie still, Your Grace," Mellos cautioned. "Do not strain yourself."
The King exhaled sharply. "Mellario," he murmured. "How is my wife?"
"The Queen remains abed, Your Grace," Mellos replied solemnly.
Maegor grunted. "And Daemon?"
"He departed for the Vale this morning. He has been holding court in your absence alongside the Hand."
Maegor's jaw tightened. "And Rhaenyra?"
Mellos hesitated before answering. "She is well, Your Grace."
A deep groan escaped Maegor as he closed his eyes.
"Careful, Your Grace," Mellos warned. "The sword cut deep, your neck, your back... the wound was severe. We could see everything inside you. You lost a great deal of blood. The Red Keep has been gravely disturbed by your absence. Her Grace hardly slept. The nights were restless, you made quite the terrible noise while we stitched your wounds."
Mellos paused, leaning in slightly. "Does my talking tire you?"
But the King had already slipped back into unconsciousness.
Mellos checked his pulse, then straightened with a sigh. He gestured to the maesters, silently dismissing them before he, too, took his leave. The chamber door closed softly behind them, leaving the King to rest.
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