Two weeks later, King Maegor stands in an empty throne room, his only company the five giant statues representing the former Targaryen kings.
It was morning and the realm continued it's affairs. Gulls cawed in the blue skies, horses neighed outside the Red Keep, the fields were green.
The sun casted an horizon over the city, the gardens all in bloom. The capital flourished, bright and blessed, everywhere seemed peaceful but still in mourning for the loss of the late Queen.
Yet plagued by the rift of succession, his thoughts shifted to Rheanyra. Since the funeral, they haven't spoken and this bothers him, he couldn't bring himself to face his niece, the guilt of Mellario still hunts him.
Maegor toys absently with the valyrian steel dagger he wears on his belt. The hilt is made of dragonbone and his mind drifts to the Song of Ice and Fire. Aegon's dream. How can he fulfill that prophecy when he has no obvious heir in the royal circlet.
Footfalls click-clack on the stone, echoing through the cavernous room. Maegor is so lost in contemplation that he doesn't seem to hear their approach of Daemon.
"Brother."
Prince Daemon's arrival finally pulls the king's attention. Daemon throws his arms around his brother.
The men hold the embrace for a long beat. There is real love here.
Maegor looks dreadful. All the life and passion that he once had now seems to have been taken from him along with Mellario and Baelon.
"How are you?" Daemon asked.
"Better." Maegor half smiles dryly "Have you seen Rheanyra?"
"She seem to be on dragon back these days finding solace. But you brother, how are you doing?" Daemon enquires.
Maegor sighs. "Trying to figure out how to move on, now that Mellario and Baelon are no more. It's difficult to be a widower at a young age." He exhale sharply.
"I understand your grief brother." Daemon consoles him.
Maegor changes the subject. "Do you believe the gods have a design?" he questioned.
"No....I don't think they give a wet shit about us." Daemon bluntly says, exhaling sharply.
"As Targaryens, we're thought to be closer to gods than to men. That we were preserved from the Doom for some higher purpose." Maegor says mysteriously.
Daemon searches Maegor frustrated by his indirectness. "We got lucky. There's no shame in it." he shrugs.
"It wasn't luck; it was a girl's dreams. Daenys saw what was to come and saved us from it." Maegor explained.
"That made for a good story. But Daenys's "dreams" didn't make us kings Maegor. It was Aegon's and wives dragons: Balerion, Meraxes, Vhagar. They built our legacy on the Field of Fire." Daemon reminds his elder brother.
"There were a thousand dragons in Old Valyria. So what put House Targaryen on the Iron Throne? Dragons? Or Dreams?" Maegor tested his intelligence to sure if Daemon can grasp his vision, just as Viserys tested him ten years ago in the sanctuary of the Black Dread.
"Aegon was no Dreamer brother. He was a Conqueror. With a great sword of Valyrian steel and the most fearsome dragon that ever lived." Daemon retorts.
"Aegon wrote his own history. The truth was something else." Maegor tries to make Daemon see the bigger picture.
The rogue prince laughs, chiding, at the portentousness of the claim. Recovering, he inquires. "And what was that?"
Maegor takes a long pause. He looks at Daemon, considering whether to tell him some secret truth. But he says nothing in the end.
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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...
