"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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Maegor narrowed his eyes. "I intend to name you Queen," he said, voice even. "Not out of affection. But because it benefits the realm, and me."
Charlotte's breath caught faintly, just enough to betray her surprise.. Then slowly smiled, like a lioness who'd tasted blood.
"So, you finally found me worthy to be your wife."
"Worthy? No. Convenient." Maegor's voice was calm, cutting. "Of all the women in this court, you're the closest to me... but not close to my heart. I chose you to fulfill what is expected, not what is desired. This isn't love, Charlotte, it's duty dressed in silk."
Charlotte stood very still, her voice barely above a whisper. "So... when do we marry?"
Maegor arched a brow, his gaze unreadable. "Why are you so eager for a wedding, when I haven't put on a ring on your finger?"
The words hung in the air like a challenge. Charlotte hesitated. Her spine remained straight, her chin lifted, but her silence betrayed her calculation. She didn't answer.
Maegor watched her closely. Her stillness spoke volumes. He could sense the heat beneath her skin, not from desire, but from the tightly bound coil of ambition she tried so hard to disguise. Her breath was steady, but her eyes flicked just slightly, just enough, betraying the thoughts churning beneath her composed exterior.
"I haven't announced it," he said, folding his arms behind his back. "Not to the court. Not to the small council. Until I do, nothing is official between us."
Charlotte nodded slowly, lips pressed together.
"You honor me... my King," she murmured, though her voice lacked its usual lilt. It was distant.
Formal.
Careful.
Maegor leaned forward, his presence heavy in the room. "Don't thank me yet," he said coolly. "Until I make it so."
He held her gaze a moment longer, letting the silence suffocate whatever hope she tried to cling to. Then he turned away.
Charlotte stood there, eyes fixed on his face, something clenched in her chest. She couldn't tell if it was heartbreak or humiliation. Her fingers twitched against the fabric of her gown, desperate to be still. Inside, the echo of his words rang louder than anything else.
Until I make it so.
She lowered her eyes and curtsied, deep, elegant, and slow, then rose with a mask of poise she barely managed to keep in place.
But her spine? It was cold.
"I would wear that crown without shame. And I would serve you, not just as Queen. But as the woman who knows what you need." She added.
Maegor turned his head slightly. "What I need is a womb that will bear strong heirs. A body to warm my nights. Love died with Mellario."
"And I don't seek to resurrect her," Charlotte said, voice soft. "But you are still alive. You still burn. And I can feel it."
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