The roar of Valérion could be heard as the everyone scurried home and shut their doors. The Red Keep was in order when Maegor returned in the evening.
The King stood watching the twenty wranglers guide the she-dragon into her lair in the Dragonpit, once she was settled, a royal wheel house led by Ser Ryam rode the King back to the palace.
The streets of the city were black like charcoal, everyone Maegor saw wore black garbs of clothing, he couldn't watch the once happy city now in shambles of sadness so he shuts the window and controlled his tears from falling.
He couldn't find solace in DragonStone and he needed to carryon his duties as King, else the realm will go off balance.
Three months away from the Maegor's Holdfast felt like a horror, the warmness of Mellario turned cold like a grave. His son named Baelon, after the his father only survived only by a day, leaving king and court bereft.
Once his mourning for his wife and son had run its course, the king moved swiftly to resolve the long-simmering issue of the succession.
His small council has gathered beneath a black pall. All crystal balls are in the dish, ready to discuss a delicate matter, except for the King's, whose seat is empty.
Suddenly the doors are opened and Maegor shuffles into the council chamber wearing simple black cotton.
His shoulders are broad, his face stone cold, his red orbs flickering terror of grief and pain, he sits down as Ser Ryam places his crystal in the dish.
Maegor seems to have become more gallant and handsome over these last, awful months yet he notices something missing.
"Where is Rhaenyra?"
Otto Hightower looks to the Grand Maester as they share a known look. Rhaenyra was intentionally kept out of this session. Otto takes a breath.
"Your Gra..." Otto began but Maegor cuts him off.
"Where is Daemon? He's suppose to be here."
The council members look at each other with dissatisfaction, no one utters a words as Otto began.
"We regret the crown's loss Your Grace. Queen Mellario was loved by all of the realm. And I know this is the last thing any of us wish to discuss at this dark hour, but I consider the matter urgent."
"I know the matter?" Maegor looks around the table. "You all want me to remarry again, do you not?"
"Only.....when you've properly mourned the Queen Your Grace." Lord Strong offered keenly.
"Fuck your opinion!" Maegor bangs the table, as Lord Beesbury quickly held his goblet.
"I will not remarry." the King looks around the around derisively.
"Whatever decisions you make Your Grace, marrying again will make your claim and reign fruitful, taking a second wife will propagate your bloodline and extend House Targaryen." Otto says keenly.
Maegor chuckles. "My namesake lasted six years and sixty-six days. He died childless, and left no heir of his body due to curse in his blood. Are you saying that I might end up like Queen Visenya's son?" he inclines his head, staring daggers at Otto Hightower.
"Absolutely false Your Grace., I would never demean you to such fate. You've been a great astute leader like King Jaehaerys and King Viserys. If you choose not to marry then so be it." Otto says wholeheartedly with lies lingering in his tone.
Then he adds. "Though I suggest you consider the most important."
"Pray tell?" Maegor's voice rumbled.
YOU ARE READING
To Love A King || Maegor Targaryen
Fantasy"Monster, Tyrant, Cruel and Ruthless, they whisper behind my back, but when I say 'I love you', it's not because I want you or because I can't have you. It has nothing to do with me. I love what you are, what you do, how you try. I've seen your kind...
