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

045▪️ASHES OF AFFECTION

King Maegor sat at the head of the table, his stare colder than the stone beneath their feet. His silence was heavy. The lords shifted uneasily, and the Sea Snake cleared his throat as Maegor's gaze slowly fixed on him like a blade being drawn.

"You have something you want to say, Lord Corlys?" Maegor's voice was low, controlled, but strained, like iron bending under pressure.

Corlys Velaryon, Lord of the Tides, did not flinch. "Pardon me, Your Grace," he said, carefully, "but with all due respect... it's been a year and six months. The realm needs a queen to stabilize your reign. To propagate your bloodline."

Maegor's eyes narrowed into slits, his lips curling ever so slightly. His death-glare was infamous, a burning promise of violence, the kind that preceded executions.

Corlys, undeterred, shifted gears. "And my lords," he added, his gaze sweeping the table. "The King already has an heir. Shall we name him? Daemon Targaryen. He is heir apparent."

The words floated in the air like smoke from a funeral pyre.

Maegor said nothing. Not a twitch of the mouth, nor a blink of the eye. But his mind was elsewhere. Drenched in red. He saw her. Mellario. Her lifeless body on the floor. Her blood still warm on his hands. His voice had shattered her. His grief had broken her. And then... his fury had killed her.

The room waited.

Otto Hightower, the Hand, broke the silence with a look to Grand Maester Mellos, signaling a carefully rehearsed alliance.

"Prince Daemon," Mellos began, his voice falsely even, "has not, in his time at court, demonstrated the good sense and moral temperament that you are known for, Your Grace."

"He is not the king," said Lord Strong, his tone sharp. "He is your younger brother."

"Yet," Otto said, leaning forward. "But with one dark turn of fate, he could be. I think we could all stand for fewer dark turns."

Maegor's chair creaked as he sat up straighter. "Dark turn of fate?" His voice was low, dangerous. "What the fuck are you saying, Otto?"

Mellos intervened quickly, his hands raised as though to calm the storm. "If Daemon remains the uncontested heir, Your Grace, it could set the realm ill at ease."

"The realm?" Corlys snapped. "Or this council?"

Otto did not blink. "Both."

Corlys muttered a curse under his breath.

"No one here can claim to know what Daemon would do if crowned," Otto said, voice sharp now. "But none can doubt his ambition. The City Watch he commands, three thousand strong are loyal only to him."

An invisible line was crossed. The air thickened.

"An army you gave him, Otto!" Maegor bellowed, standing to his feet so fast his goblet tipped, splashing wine across the stone table. "I named him Master of Laws-you said he was a tyrant. I named him Master of Coin you said he'd beggar the realm!"