"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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On his way back to the Red Keep, the King moved through the city in disguise, his heart heavy with both relief and guilt. He had promised himself, as he had done many times before, that he would never again break his oath of chastity.
He would remain faithful to his late wife, no matter the temptations that lay in wait.
Yet, as soon as he stepped into the palace and ascended the steps to the royal quarters, a strange presence caught his attention. An entity, carrying a lantern, emerged from his room.
The King drew closer, lifting his cloak. The figure turned, and to his surprise, it was none other than his niece, Rhaenyra. The moment their eyes met, she rushed to him, throwing her arms around him, her sobs muffled against his chest.
As Rhaenyra pressed herself against her uncle, tears mingling with the warmth of his embrace, she finally pulled away just enough to look up at him, her eyes glistening.
“Uncle Maegor,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “It’s been a year… I almost thought you’d never come back.” She stepped back slightly, taking in his appearance, her brows knitting in surprise. “You’ve changed. You’re not the same man who left us. There’s something… different about you.”
Maegor’s gaze softened as he took her in, the years of distance between them evaporating in the moment. His voice was gentle, almost tender as he spoke, his hand reaching out to tuck a stray lock of her hair behind her ear.
“And you, Rhaenyra…” he said, his voice thick with admiration. “You’ve grown into a beautiful young woman. Time has been kind to you. I see it now, in the way you carry yourself, in your eyes. You are more than I remember.”
Rhaenyra’s cheeks flushed with a mixture of pride and warmth, her heart swelling at the rare compliment from her uncle. She looked down for a moment, her fingers twisting together nervously.
“It’s only because of you,” she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper, "that I’ve learned to stand firm."
Maegor gave her a knowing smile, the kind that spoke volumes, before his expression softened once more. “I see that. And I am proud of you, Rhaenyra. You have become stronger than I imagined.”
Unbeknownst to them, from a distance, Charlotte Hightower watched the scene unfold. She stood behind the pillars, her gaze steady as the night dew fell softly over the spring fields.
A quiet sympathy stirred within her for the King. She hoped he would find solace in his grief, though she could never fully understand the mystery of his pain.
She was relieved he had returned, and tonight, she would make her own visit to him. A smirk touched her lips as she turned and walked away, her steps echoing as she made her way back to the Tower of the Hand.
The rising sun twinkled at dawn, the bell tolled allowing the gulls caw in the sky, with an uproar of the sea.
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