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

016▪️ HER LOVE & HIS LEGACY

The golden rays of the setting sun poured through the tall arched windows of the royal apartments, casting a warm glow upon the marble floor.

The royal apartments was filled with velvet whispers, trailing silks, and the constant rustling of hands at work. Servants and handmaids glided through Queen Mellario's chambers like clockwork, each one assigned a sacred duty.

Dresses were rotated out like seasons, elaborate gowns woven from Myrish silk and Qartheen lace exchanged for fresh ones befitting the Queen's rank.

One maid polished slippers with dragonbone inlays; another rearranged the vases of Dorne's blood-red lilies. Others cleaned and arranged the Queen's jewelry, their fingers trembling ever so slightly with the weight of sapphires and star-cut diamonds.

Candles flickered softly across the ornate chamber where Queen Mellario reclined in her steaming milk bath, fragrant with crushed roses and lavender.

Among the ladies-in-waiting stood Charlotte Hightower, her green eyes sharp beneath the golden veil pinned to her hair. She should have been helping, but her hands remained still, tucked demurely in front of her as her gaze lingered on the steaming marble tub where the Queen herself bathed.

Queen Mellario lay reclined, her eyes closed in serenity, one arm stretched languidly over the lip of the tub. Her dark hair, slick with scented oils, gleamed like obsidian.

While the others tended to their duties, Charlotte stood watching, not with admiration, but with something far more complex: envy. Not spiteful, but bitter, hungry envy.

For ten years she had served Queen Mellario loyally, and in that time she had perfected her smiles, her curtsies, her carefully timed compliments.

But beneath the calm exterior, Charlotte wanted more than just to serve the Queen, she wanted to be her. She craved her grace, her title, her place beside Maegor. She wanted the admiration, the respect, and the love of the most powerful man in the realm.

Jeyn, the Queen's personal maid, poured the final jar of warm water laced with milk and crushed rose petals into the bath. As steam danced into the air, Charlotte's gaze fell to the Queen's gently swollen belly, just beginning to round beneath the water.

She only hoped Mellario would bear a son. Her thoughts halted there, but the rest of the sentence echoed dangerously in her mind. If the Queen failed, there might still be a place for another...

Suddenly, the chamber doors flung open with the weight of command.

"You spend more time in that bath than I do on the throne," came a voice like forged steel, deep and regal.

Gasps slipped from the maids' lips as King Maegor II Targaryen entered the Queen's chambers. Tall, broad-shouldered, clad in black and crimson. His long, white-blond hair was braided back from his face, revealing sharp cheekbones and a jaw carved from Valyrian stone.