TO LOVE A KING || Maegor II Targaryen [SLOW UPDATES]

029▪️A QUIET SCANDAL

The celebration wore on. Mellario, pale and glowing, rose and bid the hall goodnight. The Queen was with child, and she needed rest. With a final toast, she disappeared from the dais.

Alicent, weary and humiliated, departed shortly after. She left Naiomi, who was still dancing with Ser Orys, her laughter now genuine. Charlotte, radiant still, had taken Ser Tyland Lannister's arm.

At the far corner, Ser Euron sat alone, wine in hand, staring with narrowed eyes. He looked like a man watching a prize slip from his grasp.

The celebration was long over, but the night air still carried the scent of wine, sweat, and perfume. The flickering candlelight painted tall shadows across the stone walls, dancing like ghosts in the silence.

Charlotte Hightower sat by the arched window in the Tower of the Hand, one leg tucked beneath her, the other bare, her slipper discarded on the floor.

Her sapphire-blue gown was loosened at the bodice, her brown ringlets hair undone from its courtly updo, now falling in soft braids down her back like threads of silk.

She swirled her wine slowly, the dark red liquid catching the light. Her face was calm, but her eyes, sharp, cool, calculating,were anything but idle.

The chamber door creaked open.

Lord Otto Hightower entered with the weary gravitas of a man who had played politics all his life and tonight found himself outplayed in his own house.

He said nothing at first, only studied his daughter in the flickering light. His jaw was clenched, his shoulders tight beneath his dark green robes.

"You didn't dance with Ser Orys Baratheon," he said flatly.

Charlotte didn't turn to look at him.

"I did," she said, her voice soft but unrepentant.

Otto stepped forward, boots echoing on the stone floor. "Then explain how Naiomi ended up in his arms for the rest of the night."

Charlotte turned slowly from the window, her expression unreadable. "I think Naiomi likes him," she said with a shrug. "And if she does, she can have him."

Otto's brow twitched. His disappointment wasn't loud, it never was, but it was sharp enough to cut through the air like a blade.

"Are you mad?" he said, voice low and pointed. "Do you know what Ser Orys represents? House Baratheon is a mountain. One of the strongest pillars in the realm. A match with him would strengthen our family's position. He's a seasoned lord, a widower with lands, power, and the King's best friend. He would make a fine husband."

Charlotte set down her wine slowly, her fingers curling around the edge of the stone sill. "But I don't want Ser Orys."

Otto blinked. "Then who?"

She smiled a slow, deliberate thing. "The King."

Silence fell between them, heavy and deafening. Even the wind outside seemed to still.