"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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Charlotte swallowed. "I know my king grieves in silence. That his heart aches for a comfort he cannot ask for. That none around him truly see him. They see a crown, a sword, a legend, but not the man who bears them."
She leaned forward slightly, voice trembling just enough. "You carry a world on your shoulders, and I see it crushing you. If you would allow it... I'd like to help you find your joy again."
Maegor drew in a breath and exhaled slowly. "You have a way with words."
"I'm only a loyal servant to the Crown, Your Grace. " Charlotte said, lowering her gaze.
He arched a brow. "Hmm."
As he carefully bound her wrist, Charlotte studied him, his posture, his silence, the way his fingers worked with quiet precision. Her lips curled ever so slightly, a flicker of triumph in her eyes. The pain in her arm was real but so was her design.
Rhaenyra had tried to expose her, had tried to turn the king's ear against her, screaming of schemes and lies. But here she was, in his chamber. In his hands. And he listened.
As Maegor's hands lingered on the wrap, Charlotte tilted her head, her voice unheard but present in her thoughts.
What we do for love, she mused. What we bleed to keep it.
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It had been one year, six months, and two weeks since Queen Mellario's passing, and while King Maegor still wore his grief like a second cloak, the rawness of it had begun to soften at the edges.
Time had dulled the sharpest pangs. The once constant brooding that shadowed his days had waned, if only slightly. Still, his chambers remained dim, the curtains often drawn, his temper reserved.
Since that fateful night, when Lady Charlotte slit her wrist in his chambers, her blood staining both his floor and his thoughts, the King had grown cautious, if not wary of her presence.
Yet, he never forbade her visits. Three nights and three days a week, she arrived, uninvited yet unturned. Charlotte claimed she came to comfort, to mourn with him as one who had loved Queen Mellario deeply.
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