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97: The Son of Ice and Fire, A Day in the Life of King Maekar
🕑 Added 2024-12-23 16:43:32 +0000 UTC“It’s been a while, Brynden,” Maekar said icily, his voice cutting through the stillness of the dreamscape. The image of the God’s Eye shimmered around them, the placid waters reflecting a moonlit sky.
“My king,” Brynden Rivers replied, inclining his head slightly, his tone as measured as ever.
“I have been trying to contact you for months,” Maekar continued, stepping closer, his gaze unrelenting.
Brynden stood his ground. “I thought it prudent to give you time to secure your reign.”
“Nothing else?” Maekar asked, his words laced with suspicion.
“Nothing else,” Brynden replied calmly.
Maekar’s jaw tightened as he closed the distance between them. “How long have you been manipulating the Targaryen bloodline? How many lives have you ended to steer it in the direction you see fit?”
Brynden’s one good eye gleamed. “I have done no such thing.”
“Aegon,” Maekar said, his voice sharper. “I was there in his last moments, and I know you were there as well.”
Brynden exhaled softly, almost a sigh. “Aegon’s mind was already broken after the Crow’s Eye did to him. I merely... sped things along to help you.”
Maekar’s glare intensified. “If you’re willing to do that, am I to believe you had no hand in Aerys’s madness? Or Rhaegar’s delusions?”
Brynden’s expression did not falter. “I showed them visions, yes. But only Rhaegar took them seriously. As for Aerys, his descent into madness needed no interference from me.”
Maekar’s voice dropped, dangerous and cold. “Why should I trust anything you say?”
Brynden hesitated for a moment, then said, “I don’t know why you care so deeply about them. The real Maekar Targaryen would have, but he died when he was six. You are a soul brought here to inhabit his body by a power even I can’t comprehend.”
Maekar froze for a moment, his mind reeling at the words. Then, with steely resolve, he said, “I am Maekar Targaryen. I have been for fifteen years…”
“I don’t even remember my name from before,” he murmured quietly.
Brynden’s gaze softened, but only slightly.
“I don’t care what I was before,” Maekar said firmly. “This is my life now. And I will not have you—or anyone else—manipulating it…or try to control me.”
Brynden inclined his head. “Understood, Your Grace. My only goal is to aid you in defeating the Others.”
“Then focus on that, and nothing else,” Maekar said, his tone a warning. “If I discover you’ve interfered again—”
“You have my word,” Brynden interrupted, his voice as calm as ever.
There was a long pause before Brynden added, “You should make your way to the Wall, Maekar. We must meet face to face. There is much to be done, and you—and Neferion—are needed.”
Maekar crossed his arms. “I can’t simply leave. It’s too soon.”
“You can,” Brynden said simply. “Your new wife and… your mistress can handle the realm in your absence. The realm is stable—for now.”
Maekar fell silent, his mind churning. Finally, he said, “Fine. I’ll come in a month or so.”
Brynden nodded. “Good. Ah, I nearly forgot—congratulations on your wedding. Let’s hope you get to have another one. But alas, the Others need to be dealt with first.”
“My time is at an end, Maekar. The sooner you come, the better,” he added.
“Wait, what?” Maekar said, but the dreamscape began to dissolve, the waters of the God’s Eye rippling as the scene faded.
Maekar’s eyes snapped open in his chambers.
====
“Fucking old bastard,” he muttered as he opened his eyes, the warm afternoon light streaming through the window and hitting his face. Letting out a frustrated sigh, he sat up, splashing cold water onto his face to clear his thoughts.
He was tired.
He had prided himself on many things—his sharp mind, his unyielding determination, and, of course, his endless stamina in bed. His libido was a force of nature, something he had always considered a mark of his vitality and strength. But now? Now, he understood he was not alone in that in his family.
He had met his match—first in Daenerys, and now in Rhaenys.
Rhaenys had come to him before their marriage, insisting they see if they were “compatible.” Maekar had eagerly agreed, and he quickly found himself swept up in a passionate affair.
They were compatible—explosively so.
It wasn’t long before Daenerys found out. She began competing for his attention, and his time in bed. Now, he was trapped in an exhausting cycle of sex, caught between Daenerys and Rhaenys. Both women were insatiable, competitive, and determined to outdo one another. And he was caught in between.
No man should ever complain about such a thing, but he doubted any man had ever endured what he was going through.
Adding to that were the demands of ruling a realm that spanned the size of South America—reorganizing the kingdoms, dealing with angry lords—and it was no surprise he was utterly drained, both mentally and physically.
Maekar leaned back in his chair, rubbing his temples.
He knew one thing for certain: he would never stray from his marriage bed. Not out of fidelity—though that mattered—but because he simply didn’t think he could survive more than Daenerys and Rhaenys.
Sighing his thoughts turned to what he needed to do today.
‘Ah, yes—visiting Margaery and her babe… and meeting Lord Royce,’ he remembered.
His nephew—Aegon’s son—had stirred a small scandal at court, particularly over the name Margaery had chosen for him. He would need to handle that matter delicately.
“Lyonel.” He called out.
He knew his ever-reliable friend and Kingsguard would be stationed just outside the chamber doors. Moments later, Lyonel stepped inside, his expression calm and attentive.
“Your Grace,” Lyonel greeted with a bow.
“Summon Lord Royce to the throne room, and tell Basil to bring what I requested. Also, summon Ser Jaime as well,” Maekar commanded.
“As you command, Your Grace,” Lyonel replied, bowing again before swiftly leaving to carry out the orders.
Maekar took a moment before stepping out into the corridor. Waiting outside was Ser Robar Royce, one of his newest Kingsguard. The knight bowed deeply and fell into step behind Maekar as they began the walk to the throne room.
The Kingsguard had been replenished recently. Among the additions were Ser Robar Royce, Ser Brynden Blackwood, Ser Garrick Mooton, and, controversially, Brienne of Tarth. Maekar had knighted Brienne himself—an act that sparked outrage among certain lords—but she had proven her worth time and again. Dany had only insisted that he knight her, but Maekar went a step further and elevated her to the Kingsguard.
“Your Grace, if I may,” Robar spoke, his voice steady yet tinged with curiosity.
Maekar gave him a nod to continue.
“Why have you summoned my father? You specifically ordered him to remain behind after the other Vale lords departed following your marriage.”
Maekar allowed a small smile to form. “I’ve found something, Robar, and I wish to return it to its rightful owner.”
The answer, cryptic as it was, seemed to momentarily silence Robar. They continued their walk, eventually arriving at the imposing double doors of the throne room. Standing outside was Basil, flanked by two Varangians holding a large chest between them.
Maekar approached Basil, who bowed deeply. “Bring it inside,” Maekar ordered.
Basil motioned to the Varangians, and the great doors creaked open. Maekar stepped inside, with Robar Royce following closely behind.
Inside the throne room, Lord Royce, Lyonel, and Ser Jaime stood waiting. As Maekar entered, they each bowed deeply, their voices resonating together. “Your Grace.”
The Iron Throne loomed at the far end. Maekar stopped at the base of the throne’s steps as the Varangians placed the chest beside him. Basil stepped back, allowing the room to take in the presence of the king and the mysterious chest.
Maekar clasped his hands behind his back, his piercing gaze sweeping over the assembled men.
“Lord Royce,” Maekar said, his tone steady but warm. “I thank you for delaying your return home.”
Lord Yohn Royce bowed deeply. “I only obeyed your command, Your Grace. As a good vassal should.”
Maekar inclined his head, acknowledging the sentiment. “I won’t keep you long, my lord. I have brought you here to return something to you.”
With a subtle motion, Maekar gestured toward Basil. Basil stepped forward and opened the chest, revealing its contents. Gasps echoed throughout the room as those assembled laid eyes on the two swords inside.
One was Dark Sister. The other sword, equally striking, bore a silver handle etched with ancient runes, the Valyrian steel gleaming with a cold, otherworldly look. The craftsmanship was unparalleled, every rune inscribed into the steel seeming to pulse faintly with a life of its own.
Lord Yohn Royce’s eyes widened in disbelief. His son Andar, as well as Ser Jaime, looked on in awe. Only Lyonel remained impassive, his expression unreadable.
Maekar stepped forward, his gaze lingering on the sword adorned with runes. He motioned for Basil to retrieve it from the chest, which he did carefully.
“This,” Maekar said, holding the sword aloft, “was found during my excavations in the ruins of the old Dragonpit.”
“It can’t be,” Robar murmured, his voice trembling with disbelief.
“Lamentation,” Lord Royce whispered, his voice heavy with reverence. “After all these years…”
“Yes, my lord,” Maekar confirmed with a slight smile. “Lamentation. It has been found, and now, I return it to you.”
With a ceremonial air, Maekar held the sword out to Lord Royce. Yohn Royce stepped forward, his hands trembling as he accepted the blade. He cradled it, his expression a mix of disbelief, awe, and deep emotion.
“I... I can’t believe it,” Royce said, his voice barely above a whisper.
Maekar inclined his head. “I did what was right, my lord.”
Lord Royce sank to one knee instinctively, overwhelmed by the moment. His family’s ancestral sword, lost for generations, was finally in his hands again. After a beat, Royce rose, his grip on Lamentation firm. He turned it over in his hands, marveling at its craftsmanship.
But then, his expression changed. A quiet resolve crossed his face as he looked toward his son. “Robar,” he called.
Robar Royce stepped forward, visibly startled. “Father?”
Yohn Royce extended the sword toward him. “You are my son, my pride, and now a Kingsguard in service to His Grace. This blade, Lamentation, belongs in the hands of a protector—someone who will wield it in defense of the realm and the king.”
Robar shook his head, taking a step back. “Father, I... I can’t accept this. It is your blade—you are Lord Royce.”
Yohn Royce smiled faintly, his eyes glistening. “You have already made me proud. Our family’s pride runs through your veins. You must use Lamentation to protect His Grace and this realm.”
Robar hesitated, then shakily reached for the sword. His hands trembled as they closed around the hilt. “Thank you, Father,” he said, his voice thick with emotion.
The two embraced briefly, a rare display of affection from the stoic Lord Royce. As they separated, Yohn Royce turned back to Maekar, bowing deeply. “Your Grace, I can never thank you enough for this.”
Maekar gave him a knowing smile. “It was the least I could do, my lord. And now,” his gaze shifted to Robar, who stood proudly with Lamentation, “I have two Kingsguard knights armed with Valyrian steel.” he said looking at Robar and then to Lyonel.”
“Why don’t we make it three?”
His eyes locked onto Ser Jaime. A ripple of surprise went through the room, and Jaime’s expression shifted from curiosity to something more guarded.
Maekar motioned for Basil, who stepped forward and reverently handed him Dark Sister. The blade seemed to absorb the light around it, its dark steel radiating an aura of quiet menace and power. Maekar held the sword aloft.
“This,” Maekar began, his voice steady and commanding, “is exactly what you think it is. This is Dark Sister.”
A gasp rippled through the chamber.
“Blackfyre and Dark Sister,” Lord Royce murmured in awe. “You truly are ordained by the gods to be king.”
Maekar let the compliment pass without acknowledgment. “My uncle,” he continued, his tone light but deliberate, “is not exactly skilled with a blade. Dark Sister deserves more than to sit idle, gathering dust.”
He stepped forward, his eyes locking onto Ser Jaime Lannister. “And so,” Maekar said, extending the sword toward him, “I give it to you, Ser Jaime.”
Jaime froze, his golden hair catching the light as he stared at the blade. “Your Grace,” he said, his voice filled with genuine hesitation, “I cannot. This is too great an honor.”
Maekar’s expression softened, but his tone left no room for argument. “Take it, Ser Jaime. Use it to protect me and my family. You will need it now more than ever,” he added.
Jaime hesitated only a moment longer before stepping forward. With a deep breath, he reached out and took the sword, his hands reverently closing around the hilt.
“It is an honor, Your Grace,” Jaime said, his voice steady but filled with emotion.
Maekar watched him closely, knowing the significance the sword would carry for the Lannister. This was the blade of Visenya, of Daemon the Rogue Prince, and perhaps most importantly to Jaime, of Aemon the Dragonknight.
“Well,” Maekar said, stepping back with a faint smile, “it seems I now have three knights in my Kingsguard armed with Valyrian steel.” He paused for dramatic effect before adding, with a touch of humor, “I wonder if we can get a full set.”
The room burst into laughter, the tension melting away as the lord and knights allowed themselves a rare moment of levity. Even Jaime chuckled softly, though his eyes remained fixed on the blade in his hands.
That was not a joke; the Others were coming—and Maekar would rather every warrior in Westeros have a Valyrian steel blade of his own.
.
.
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Maekar made his way to the Maidenvault, where Margaery was kept. The halls were quiet, save for the soft echo of his boots against the stone floor. As he approached the doors, he sensed a familiar presence. ‘Ghost is here,’ he thought, a faint smile tugging at his lips. ‘Which means Daenerys must be as well.’
Reaching the grand doors, he found Ser Garrick Mooton and Brienne of Tarth standing guard. Both knights straightened as Maekar approached, their white cloaks gleaming in the dim light.
“Your Grace,” they said in unison, bowing deeply.
Maekar nodded before stepping inside, Lyonel following a few paces behind. The moment the doors closed, a white blur streaked across the room. Ghost, the massive direwolf, barreled toward him and leaped up with surprising agility.
“Ghost!” Maekar exclaimed, laughing as the direwolf nearly knocked him over. The wolf nuzzled against Maekar’s chest, his thick, snowy fur brushing against the king’s clothes. Maekar dropped to one knee, wrapping an arm around Ghost’s neck and scratching behind his ears.
“I haven’t seen you for two days,” Maekar said, running his hand along Ghost’s large frame. The direwolf wagged his tail furiously, his crimson eyes gleaming with joy. He let out a deep, contented growl as Maekar continued to pet and scratch him.
“You’ve missed me, haven’t you?” Maekar murmured, chuckling as Ghost licked his hand. “Well, I’ve missed you too.”
Ghost responded with a happy bark, his tail thumping against the floor. He pranced around Maekar in circles, pausing every so often to nuzzle him again before bounding a short distance away and back, as though inviting Maekar to play.
After a few moments, Maekar stood and gave Ghost one last pat on the head. The direwolf trotted beside him, his tail wagging in satisfaction.
Maekar’s gaze swept the room, landing first on Rhaenys and Daenerys. Rhaenys wore her crown of rubies and gold. Her expression was poised and unreadable, but her dark eyes watched Maekar sharply.
Daenerys, standing beside her, wore a silver crown studded with pearls. She had insisted on wearing it despite the confusion and gossip it caused among the courtiers. In her mind—and in Maekar’s—they were already married. Her face softened the moment she saw him, a subtle but unmistakable smile curving her lips.
Then his attention shifted to Margaery. She stood slightly apart, a swaddle of blankets in her arms. Her auburn hair framed her delicate features, and though she appeared tired, there was a quiet strength in her eyes as she cradled the infant close.
Maekar’s expression softened as he approached her. “Well, this is a surprise. What are you two doing here?”
“We are here to visit Margaery and see our nephew, just like you, Maekar,” Rhaenys said with a cool smile.
Maekar’s gaze returned to the swaddled infant in Margaery’s arms. The baby boy, small and serene, lay nestled in soft, embroidered blankets. His tiny features bore a striking resemblance to his father, Aegon.
“Little Maekar,” Maekar said softly. The name had caused a stir at court, but he understood why Margaery had chosen it. Perhaps it was an attempt to endear her child to him—or to ensure the boy’s safety, since he was Aegon’s legitimate son and thus a potential threat to Maekar’s rule.
“How is he?” Maekar asked, his eyes never leaving the infant.
Margaery looked down at her son, a tender smile forming on her lips. “He is well, Your Grace,” she said, her voice steady but tinged with maternal protectiveness.
Maekar nodded. “Your brothers and the rest of your family are settling into their new lands.”
Margaery hesitated, then asked, “And what of… what of me? Will I…?”
Maekar’s expression darkened slightly, though his tone remained calm. “You know I cannot return you to your family, Margaery. You must remain here.”
Her eyes fell, a shadow of disappointment crossing her face. “And my son?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Before Maekar could respond, Daenerys stepped forward, her tone resolute, almost cutting. “He will be sent to the Faith when he is of age. We have discussed it with the High Septon.”
Rhaenys frowned and turned to Maekar, her voice sharp. “We have not made that decision—”
“Yes, we have,” Maekar interrupted, his voice carrying an air of finality.
Rhaenys folded her arms and glared at him. “When was that decided?”
“Just now,” Maekar said firmly, without breaking eye contact.
He turned back to Margaery, his expression softening slightly. “This is the best choice for young Maekar. I hope you understand.”
Margaery looked at her son, gently stroking his cheek. “I understand,” she said quietly. “I only wish to spend as much time with him as I can.”
Maekar nodded, stepping back. “Then I will leave you to him.”
He turned to Rhaenys and Daenerys, motioning for them to follow. “Come, I need to speak with you two.”
Rhaenys raised an eyebrow, but her curiosity seemed to outweigh her irritation. “We were leaving anyway,” she said coolly.
Daenerys lingered momentarily, her gaze still on the infant, before nodding and following Maekar.
====
“You are going where?” Rhaenys demanded, her voice sharp as she fixed Maekar with a hard stare. They stood in the gardens near the weirwood tree.
“I need to go to the Wall,” Maekar said again.
“Why?” Daenerys asked, stepping closer, her expression a mixture of concern and disbelief.
Maekar sighed, his gaze shifting to the ancient tree. “The enemy is fast approaching. I need to see it for myself.”
Rhaenys laughed bitterly. “You are the king, Maekar. You can’t just leave—not now, and not for something like this.”
“It’s only for a month,” he replied evenly.
“A month?” Rhaenys snapped. “It’s barely been a year since you became king. Don’t you see how fragile your reign still is? The lords are watching for any sign of weakness. Your absence, even for a month, will sow doubt.”
Daenerys nodded in agreement. “She’s right. You can’t just leave. Not now.”
Maekar turned to face them both, his jaw tightening. “The kingdoms are stable. Everything is progressing smoothly. You two will oversee things until I return.”
“Stable?” Rhaenys shot back. “The situation in the Stepstones alone is far from stable.”
“What issue in the Stepstones?” Maekar asked, exasperation creeping into his voice. “Redwyne and Velaryon will govern their respective islands. It’s settled.”
Daenerys crossed her arms, her tone dry. “Our dear Princess of Dorne has been demanding some islands as well.”
“Arianne feels—” Rhaenys began, but Maekar cut her off with a dismissive wave.
“It sounds like Arianne should return to Dorne,” Maekar said firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Rhaenys opened her mouth to protest but then closed it, her lips pressing into a thin line.
“I need to go,” Maekar said firmly. “It’s just one month. Are you implying that you’re incapable of ruling without me?”
Rhaenys scoffed, folding her arms. “Of course not. But it’s not safe, Maekar. I don’t want to be a widow so soon.”
“She’s right,” Daenerys added more softly. “It’s dangerous. What if those...monsters—” She trailed off, her violet eyes flickering with unease.
Maekar’s gaze softened as he addressed her. “I will be fine,” he reassured her. “I’ll have Neferion with me. I need to assess the situation at the Wall myself.”
Daenerys stepped closer, her hands brushing against his. “You will not take any unnecessary risks,” she said, her tone firm. “No unwanted adventures.”
Maekar smiled faintly, enclosing her hands in his. “I will visit the Wall, fly beyond it, and then return. Nothing more.” He squeezed her hands gently, emphasizing his promise.
Daenerys nodded slowly, though worry still clouded her eyes. Maekar then turned his attention to Rhaenys. She met his gaze for a moment, her lips pressed in a thin line before she reluctantly looked away and nodded.
“Thank you,” Maekar said, relief washing over him.
Rhaenys’s expression shifted, and she gave him a sly smile as she grabbed his arm. Her grip was firm, her gaze fierce as it locked onto his. “When will you leave?” she asked.
“In one week,” Maekar replied.
“Good,” Rhaenys said, determination glinting in her eyes. Without warning, she began tugging him toward the holdfast.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“You said one week—I’m using it,” she answered, not looking back.
“What—” Maekar started, only to trail off as her intent became clear. His gaze darted to Daenerys, who wore a wicked smile as she followed them.
‘Oh no,’ Maekar thought as he let himself be dragged along, fully aware that the coming days would be as exhausting as they were...enjoyable.
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Next Chapter: Mance Rayder's POV and Maekar's Arrival at the Wall.
Comments
Illusiveone
There will be new dragons... More radical reforms like standing army after the war for the dawn.
Arcturus
Will they have more dragons? Because put all money on Nefirion is a little bit dangerous 😳 ☠️ Do MC have plans to organize some kind of standing army? Maybe like Compagnie d'ordonnance. High mobile and powerful troops, which could quickly attack enemies. Also they used to control some of unloyal regions so Maekar would have good arguments about rebellious lords
Illusiveone
There will be a Tyrion POV in the epilogues. Chapters 99 and 100 are planned to focus on Maekar at the Wall and his adventures beyond it—these are going to be big chapters. A Maekar x Rhaenys, Maekar x Daenerys, Maekar x Rhaenys x Daenerys, and even a Maekar x Rhaenys x Arianne bonus chapter is planned after Christmas. I've written some parts of it but need to finish it. I've been experiencing a smut writer's block since the beginning of the month that's why i havent written a Lost in time chapter as well.
Illusiveone
I have plans for little Maekar; he will make an appearance in the epilogues.
TyrantGod
Might sound cold but it is more pragmatic to have him arrange an accident for his nephew? Or is Rhaenys gonna protect him? Coz her nephew might end up being a threat to her future kids? You also mentioned a 3rd Dance of Dragons so is he the other side? Is his war with Aegon considered the 2nd dance?
TyrantGod
Will you do a Marg POV? And why not a Maester instead? Will Arianne or Cersei insert themselves due to prior relationship? Is Tyrion dead? Has MC alerted the Starks about the upcoming war and will the Northern prep increase? Where can we read the scenes between MC and the queens?
