To Love A King || Maegor Targaryen

35 • THE NAKED LADY IN THE LAKE

Sunset, King Maegor rode out into woods.  Birds chirped with an ambient nature wind. He rode his horse feeling the caprice of youth then decided to stop by the vast lake of Kings Wood.

It was a place with an eldritch beauty all of its own. A halcyon paradise with trees of peach around the area.

The lake looked magical, crested by the ridge. It was in teardrop-silver in colour and it was shaped like a perfectly flat disc of metal. No sound rang out from the shimmering emptiness of space around it.

Monastery quiet, it was lined with pine trees and the whiff of mint wafted up to him nostrils. He decided to make his way to its decanter clear shore. The idyllic scene took his breath away.

Unruffled by wind or rain, it was vault still and restful. The only sounds were the bumbling of bees and the heavy echo of a raven crawking.

Out on the lake, flopping trout were slapping the surface. He was hoping to catch one of the squadron of flies that buzzed about. The heaven-leaking light added a golden tint to the face of the lake and it was paradise.

A startling eureka moment came unbidden, which involved the beauty of the natural world. He kept it to himself. The nipping midges didn’t take away from the pleasure he flet. He could still see the rain-pearled grass in my mind’s eye.

He remembered when him and Mellario would come here to drink and feast alone, he remembered their moment of intimacy, making love and fuckin by the lake then later on, they would perceive the saccharine sweet smell of that grass.

He remembered that the water tasted like the nectar of the gods. Most of all, he remember how it felt to be young again.

The lake was glimmering in the callow light of dawn. Local legend had it that a giant hand had scooped out a gash of rock eons ago during the Age Of The First Men. Then a great heap of argent-silver was moulded and poured into it, hemmed in by precipitous hills.

Maegor loved the ambiance, a broad span of Tuscany-blue sky was slashed above it, making it appear like nature’s amphitheatre. The hollowness of the valley magnified all sounds, from burbling streams to the bumble of bees.

The visage of the lake was veneer-clear and tranquil, flanked by an avenue of cedar trees. There was feng-shui perfection to the scene, while the water was gilded with moonlight-pale lilies. Plip-plopping fish caused concentric rings to puff out and disappear as the air hummed all around us. A phalanx of flies and water lilies, was patrolling the water’s edge, called into service by the heaven-filtering light.

Tolkein-esque ferns swayed beside a brook that spiralled down from a turf moor. The water had a peaty texture, but pools of molten gold lay naked in the light.

At the bottom, smooth-edged stones glowed amber with a witchery uncommon to the modern world. He sat on a rock, admiring the glorious lustre of the water.

The dale fell confessional-quiet. He had an alleluia moment then and yearned for a time when the world would change it's course and make him young again, maybe he'll be able to pass the crown to Daemon.

A small thorn had spiked his foot, but it didn’t break his reverie. The rain-winkled grass cast a silver sheen and the dewy air was laden with cedar-sweet smells. On impulse, he reached down and sipped from the stream. The taste was a mixture of rosewater and chalybeate that thrilled the tongue.

With a sigh, he crouched down forged his hands into the water, chill and cold. The lake was as silver as diamond flame and the atmosphere was convent quiet. Even the depths were crystal clear. It was soothing.

Freckled trout were leaping for flies and thunking on its surface. The rising sun caused a division of armed flies to swarm into the air.

The scene was so glorious that he had a lightning bolt moment. The thistles pricking my leg broke my train of thought. The damp grass smelled utopian a reminder of his late wife and her love for scent.