Illusiveone
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Chapter 96: The Son of Ice and Fire, The Queen
🕑 Added 2024-12-18 17:06:58 +0000 UTCHer fingers brushed over the simple circlet in her hands, the cold metal a stark contrast to the warmth of her skin. Maekar had given it to her, claiming it had once belonged to Queen Rhaenys, her namesake. She was to be Maekar’s queen, after all.
Well, one of them, anyway. The thought lingered, a wry smirk tugging at the corners of her lips. She had wondered how Maekar planned to convince the Faith and the realm of his intent to marry both her and Daenerys.
But after yesterday, she understood.
She understood why Maekar did not give a damn about the Faith or the realm’s approval. An icy doom was approaching—a darkness from beyond the Wall. The memory made her shiver. She closed her eyes, trying to will it away, but the images came flooding back: the undead, their faces twisted into grotesque masks of death; and beings made of ice, their forms radiating a cold so profound it felt as though it pierced her very soul.
Maekar had revealed the truth: the second Long Night was coming.
She was the one who had pressed him for answers, demanded to know his secrets, and now she wished she hadn’t. The knowledge of the Others’ existence and the impending end of days was a weight she had not been prepared to carry. It robbed her of sleep, leaving her restless and on edge.
‘If we survive,’ she thought, turning the circlet over in her hands, ‘Maekar will be hailed as the greatest hero the realm has ever known. He could marry as many women as he pleases, and no one would dare question him.’ The thought was laced with bitter humor.
“And if we lose,” she whispered, “we’ll all be dead.”
No wonder he seemed so confident and unbothered.
A hollow chuckle escaped her lips as she sat on the edge of her bed. Her father had been right, in a sense. His obsession with prophecy, his belief in a savior who would rise to defend the realm, had consumed him all his life. It had destroyed their family, led to Maekar’s conception, and shaped everything that followed. And yet, in the end, her father had been right about all but one thing.
Aegon had not been the prophesied savior. No, it was Maekar.
Rhaenys stood, her legs feeling unsteady beneath her. She clutched the circlet tightly in her hands, the intricate dragon patterns etched into the metal biting into her skin. She needed to compose herself. She needed to be strong.
She called for her handmaidens and servants and ordered that a bath be drawn. They scurried to fulfill her request.
As soon as the bath was ready, Rhaenys stepped into the tub, letting the warmth envelop her. For a moment, the heat was almost too much, prickling her skin as she submerged herself. But then, the tension in her muscles began to melt away, and she let out a soft sigh.
Her thoughts drifted to her mother. A pang of guilt stabbed at her chest. Would her mother hate her for what had happened to Aegon? For siding with Maekar? The question lingered, unanswered, as she closed her eyes tightly, trying to drown it in the heat of the water. She could almost hear her mother’s voice—soft and comforting, but filled with unspoken disappointment.
She then remembered her pitiful attempt at building her own faction.
She felt like a failure.
“Enough,” Rhaenys whispered to herself, her hands gripping the edges of the tub. She couldn’t afford to wallow in the past or her supposed failures. Her gaze hardened as she straightened her back. There was no use lamenting what was done. The future demanded her focus, not the ghosts of her failures.
She needed to speak with Maekar to understand where they stood.
Suddenly, she paused as a thought crossed her mind.
No, no, she knew exactly what she needed to do—something Daenerys was already ahead in when it came to her relationship with Maekar.
She did not plan to play second fiddle. She needed to speak to Daenerys to finally settle the matters between them. They could not afford to let the rivalry fester, not with what lay ahead. They had to be united, for the future of the realm depended on it.
She quickly stepped out of the bath and allowed the servants to dry her. Returning to her chambers, she ordered her handmaidens to pick out her best gown—one fit for a queen. They brought her a purple gown with silver threads that shimmered like stars.
Soon, her handmaidens were finished, and they placed the circlet on her head. She looked at herself in the mirror. The face staring back was not the same as it had been before.
Gone was the princess; now, she was a queen.
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Rhaenys left for Daenerys’s chambers with a purposeful stride, her handmaidens trailing behind like shadows. Ser Lyonel followed silently, his vigilant gaze sweeping over the corridors of the Red Keep.
She missed having Ser Jaime guard her, but he was now the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and had other duties to attend to. Her gaze fell on Ser Lyonel.
She should try to get to know Ser Lyonel better; after all, he was one of Maekar’s closest friends.
“Ser Lyonel,” she began, her voice calm but commanding, “when do you think the remaining positions in the Kingsguard will be filled?”
The knight glanced at her. “Soon, Princess. His Grace has already reviewed a number of candidates.”
Rhaenys nodded thoughtfully. “The Heartlands will likely dominate the appointments, then.”
“It seems so, but I believe there is to be an appointment from the Vale—one of Lord Royce’s sons,” Lyonel replied with a slight incline of his head. His tone remained neutral, but she could sense his pride in serving the new king.
Rhaenys continued the conversation with the new kingsguard as they continued through the labyrinthine halls until they reached Daenerys’s chambers. Ser Oswell stood at the door, bowing deeply as they approached.
“Princess Rhaenys,” he greeted.
She acknowledged him with a polite nod and stepped inside. The room buzzed with laughter as Daenerys sat among a circle of noblewomen, their conversation animated. Most of them were daughters and wives of lords from the newly formed kingdom of the Heartlands, their presence evidence of Daenerys’s growing influence at court.
Daenerys’s gaze lifted, and a radiant smile broke across her face. “Aunt, I hope I am not interrupting anything important?” Rhaenys asked in a cheerful voice.
“Not at all,” Daenerys replied. “I was about to come and find you, niece.”
With a graceful gesture, Daenerys dismissed the ladies, and Rhaenys did the same to her own handmaidens. The two women were left alone as silence descended.
Rhaenys spoke first. “I’m surprised to see you so… relaxed,” she said, referring to their experience in the garden and what Maekar had shown them.
Daenerys’s expression did not waver. “Maekar doesn’t seem worried, so why should I be?”
Rhaenys’s brow furrowed slightly. “There is an army of the dead marching towards us. That doesn’t concern you?”
Daenerys’s serene smile returned. “We have a dragon on our side. The dead burn just like the living, Rhaenys.”
Rhaenys sighed, her aunt’s unshakable faith in Maekar grating on her nerves. “We need to talk about the future,” she said, her tone firm. “Our future… we need to come to an arrangement.”
Daenerys seemed unaffected by the shift in tone. “You will marry Maekar first,” she said matter-of-factly. “And as quickly as possible. The realm needs stability.”
Rhaenys’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘Where had the jealous woman who glared at me at every chance gone?’ she thought.
“And you’d be fine with that?”
Daenerys’s gaze softened. “Yes. That doesn’t mean I won’t marry him as well. But you will be the first.”
Rhaenys studied her aunt for a moment. “I see.”
Daenerys’s smile turned almost triumphant. “Maekar’s heart will always belong to me.”
‘Ah, there it is,’ Rhaenys thought, her annoyance bubbling to the surface.
Rhaenys smiled and decided to play Daenerys’s own game. She tilted her head and allowed her eyes to drift over her aunt’s face. “Are you truly so sure of your hold on him, aunt?” she asked, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “Men are fickle creatures, after all. Maekar may favor you now, but what happens when he realizes I have more to offer him than you. In time he may start to wonder why he ever wasted a thought on you.”
Daenerys’s smile faltered, her eyes flashing with anger her expression reminding Rhaenys whose daughter this was, so she decided to relent, holding up her hands in a gesture of peace.
“Daenerys, I came here to make an accord. Maekar’s mind is set on marrying us both, and I would prefer we maintain a cordial relationship.”
Daenerys looked away, her expression unreadable.
Rhaenys sighed. “Think on this, Aunt.” With that, she turned and left the chamber, her handmaidens falling into step behind her.
As they walked, Rhaenys gave her handmaidens a command: “Ladies, I require a crown of flowers before nightfall.”
One of them hesitated. “A crown, Princess? May I ask why?”
Rhaenys smiled, her eyes bright. “I was promised I would be crowned. Tonight, I mean to see that promise fulfilled.”
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“Your Grace, what you seek is ancient knowledge,” Marwyn said in his gravelly voice.
“But it exists?” Maekar asked, his expression sharp and focused. “The Citadel is ancient; surely its archives must contain something.”
Marwyn nodded slowly. “Yes, there is a vault beneath the Citadel. Even I was never granted entry. The oldest texts, the ones containing secrets best left forgotten, are stored there.”
Maekar’s eyes narrowed. “I see. And do you believe I will find what I am searching for in these archives?”
The Grand Maester let out a low chuckle. “Perhaps. In my travels, I’ve found proof of the existence of a great empire in the East—a civilization that spanned continents and perhaps even shaped the world we know.”
Maekar leaned forward slightly. “Go on.”
Marwyn gestured vaguely. “I believe the base of the Hightower, made of smooth black stone no one can replicate, was an outpost of this empire. Perhaps even an ancient port.”
Maekar’s suspicions deepened. Marwyn’s words only confirmed theories he had long held. He folded his arms. “And what of Lightbringer?”
Marwyn gave a wry smile. “If such a sword exists, it won’t be in Westeros.”
That was where Maekar disagreed. He knew Eldric Shadowchaser, nephew of Brandon the Builder, was the last wielder of the blade. He believed Eldric could have returned after traveling the world to slay the champions of the Great Other and perhaps hidden it here.
Before Maekar could respond, the door creaked open. Basil stepped inside. “Your Grace, Lord Robb has arrived.”
Maekar turned to Marwyn. “We can discuss this later, Grand Maester. I want you to delve deeper into the texts that mention Lightbringer, especially the tales of Eldric Shadowchaser.”
“A red priestess I am acquainted with will soon arrive with more ancient texts from the Red Temple of Volantis.”
Marwyn’s eyes gleamed with curiosity. “Texts from the Red Temple itself? How did you manage that, Your Grace?”
“I have my ways, Maester. I promise I will tell you all I know when she arrives. It might sound unbelievable.”
Marwyn laughed. “Your Grace, I believe nothing you say can surprise me.”
Maekar smiled. “We’ll see. And Marwyn,” Maekar called as the maester turned to leave, “find a way to access these ancient texts the Citadel hides so jealously.”
“I will try, Your Grace.”
Marwyn gave a short bow and left.
Maekar’s eyes followed him, and as soon as he left the chambers, Robb Stark entered. His face lit up with a broad smile upon seeing Maekar.
“Your Grace,” Robb said, bowing deeply.
Maekar’s face softened into a grin. “Ah, stop that, you fool, and come here.” He strode forward and pulled his cousin and best friend into a hearty embrace. “Good to see you, Robb.”
“Good to see you too, Maekar,” Robb replied, his smile unwavering.
“Come, sit,” Maekar said as he led Robb to a nearby chair.
Basil quickly poured wine for both of them as Maekar took his seat next to Robb.
“So, how are the northern lords reacting to our uncle’s new titles and honors?”
Robb chuckled. “I think most of them are prepared to die for you, Maekar. Never have I seen them so content. It’s as if you’ve granted the North independence.”
“Well,” Maekar said with a faint smirk, “I gave them more autonomy. It’s enough to keep them happy, but not enough to loosen my grip.”
Robb raised an eyebrow, swirling his cup of wine. “High Lord Brandon Stark… you’ve only inflated our uncle’s already considerable ego.”
Maekar’s smirk deepened.
“From what I’ve seen, the Vale lords seem just as pleased.” Robb added.
Maekar’s smile faded slightly as he swirled his wine in thought. “Just what I need,” he muttered under his breath.
He set his cup down and fixed his cousin with a measured look. “Robb, I want you to stay here in King’s Landing.”
Robb blinked in surprise. “Why?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.
Maekar stood, motioning for Robb to follow him to the large table at the center of the room. Spread across it were maps and parchments, the ink still fresh on some, depicting his plans for the sweeping reorganization of the realm.
“I have a position in mind for you,” Maekar said as they approached the table.
Robb leaned over the map, studying it with interest. “So the North is no longer the largest kingdom?” he asked, his finger tracing the expansive Heartlands.
Maekar nodded. “I did what I believe the Conqueror should have done long ago.”
“It’s strange to see two kingdoms just… disappearing,” Robb said.
Maekar was about to respond when Robb spoke again. “I hear you’ve been considering a match for Roddy with Stannis Baratheon’s daughter.”
Rodrick was Robb’s brother, and he was similar in age to Stannis’s daughter Shireen. Maekar couldn’t allow any Stormlord to marry Shireen now. Riverrun and Storm’s End would be ruled by Ned’s and Brandon’s sons as counts, completely dependent on royal power.
“Aye, the proposal has been discussed,” Maekar confirmed. “I’ve sent Uncle Ned the formal proposal. If he agrees, then Rodrick can become the new Count of Storm’s End, betrothed to Shireen Baratheon.”
“I don’t think Mother would agree,” Robb said, his eyes meeting Maekar’s.
“Aunt Ashara has the right to be angry…”
“Uncle Arthur is dead, Maekar. Yes, she indeed has the right to be angry,” Robb said.
“I offered him a place by my side, Robb. He refused.”
“I don’t blame you, Maekar. My mother may, but I do not. Just announce this betrothal later, maybe after a year or so, for her sake.”
Maekar nodded and quickly changed the subject.
"Now, for the position I have in mind for you," Maekar began. “I intend to reshape the governance of the realm. What we have now is insufficient for governing the Heartlands, let alone the Seven Kingdoms.”
Robb looked skeptical, yet curious. “How do you plan to accomplish that?”
Maekar gestured toward the parchments scattered across the table. “I plan to establish seven new orders, each headed by a member of the Small Council.”
Robb’s interest deepened as he leaned closer to the documents. “Seven orders?”
Maekar began to name them.
“The Hand of the King will head the Order of the Crown’s Administration.”
The Order of the Crown’s Administration, under the Hand of the King, would manage all administrative tasks and form the backbone of the new bureaucracy. Crown representatives would be sent to the lords in the Heartlands, serving as the voice of the Crown, but in a way that did not threaten the lords’ authority.
“The Master of Laws will lead the Order of Justice.”
He planned to use the Order of Justice to eventually introduce Crown-appointed judges to oversee impartial legal proceedings. He would start small, focusing first on the Heartlands making sure the lords are not threatened by these judges he planned to have them work with the lords first then slowly take complete control.
“The Master of Coin will oversee the Order of Finance and Trade.”
This order would control taxation, tariffs, and commerce. Lords who cooperated would receive preferential trade routes and easier access to markets, ensuring their prosperity remained linked to the Crown’s stability. Economic benefits would serve as a subtle incentive, drawing powerful magnates into the new system.
“The Grand Maester will govern the Order of Learning and Healing.”
Here, he planned to open new centers of learning, thereby finally breaking the Citadel’s monopoly.
“The Master of Ships will lead the Order of Naval Affairs.”
This order would secure maritime trade, protect coastlines, and coordinate with a new position on the Small Council.
“The Master of Whisperers will command the Order of Secrets.”
This order would coordinate spies, saboteurs, and informants not only in Westeros but also across Essos. It would keep watch over the ambitions of lords and track the movements of potential threats.
Robb tilted his head. “That’s six.”
A faint smile crossed Maekar’s lips. “Indeed. The seventh is a new position—the Master of War. He will lead the Order of Warfare and Defense.”
In addition to all this, he planned to add an advisory assembly where lords, maesters, and possibly even representatives of the Faith could voice their concerns.
Robb picked up one of the detailed parchments, skimming through it. The plans were intricate, listing personnel needs, duties, and overarching goals. “This is a lot,” he remarked.
Maekar nodded. “It is. And it won’t happen overnight. But it’s necessary.”
“This is where you come in. I want you to join the Order of Justice.”
Robb’s eyes widened slightly. “Under Jon Arryn?”
“No,” Maekar clarified. “Under the person who will succeed him. I need you to be third in line. This will give you time to gain the experience and eventually become my Master of Laws.”
Robb’s expression shifted to one of surprise. “This is a immense honor.”
“Think it over,” Maekar urged, his tone firm but not unkind. “I’m building something great here, Robb—a new Westeros. A better one. And I need your help.”
Robb nodded slowly, though uncertainty lingered in his gaze. He scanned another parchment, his eyes catching on a particular line. “This says crown-appointed judges will dispense justice. Are you planning on taking the right of pit and gallows from the lords in the Heartlands?”
Maekar’s expression hardened slightly. “Not yet.”
Robb’s tone became sharper. “Maekar, you can’t do that.”
Maekar’s gaze was resolute. “I won’t do it overnight.”
“It’s too much,” Robb countered. “The lords have rights.”
Maekar leaned closer, his voice firm. “The North won’t be affected, Robb. Only the Heartlands.”
But Robb persisted. “That’s not the point. You’re treading dangerous ground.”
“Don’t think of it,” Maekar said sharply, his tone final. He softened slightly. “But do think of my offer.”
Robb’s resolve wavered briefly before he straightened. “I accept. You are my king, and I won’t say no.”
Maekar’s smile returned, genuine and pleased. “Good. Now, enough with all this.” His expression turned mischievous. “Do you know I own a brothel in the city?”
Robb’s head snapped up, his eyebrows shooting skyward. “What?”
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Maekar entered his chambers after a long evening spent with Robb, smelling of wine and perfume from Ros’s brothel. As he stepped inside, his sharp eyes immediately caught sight of something unusual—a crown of flowers lying on the floor. He paused, frowning, and picked it up.
"You promised you would crown me," a familiar voice purred from the shadows of his bed.
Maekar turned sharply toward the direction of the voice, his eyes landing on Rhaenys lying on his bed, her form draped only in the silk covers of his bedding. The dim light of the chamber cast an ethereal glow around her, illuminating her in a golden hue. Her dark, flowing hair spilled over her shoulders, her pouty lips curling into a teasing smile.
"Well," Maekar began, holding the crown of flowers aloft, "if you remember, Rhaenys, I was poisoned."
"I remember," she said, her voice low, her gaze unwavering.
Maekar’s brow furrowed as he moved closer. "What are you doing here?" he asked, though he already knew the answer.
Rhaenys shifted slightly, the silk slipping from her shoulder, revealing more of her flawless skin. "We are to be married, are we not?" she asked, her tone half-playful, half-serious. Her violet eyes watched him intently, her lips curving into a smirk as she added, "I wanted to see why Daenerys is so smitten with you."
She threw the covers aside with a languid motion, revealing her nude body beneath. The dim light accentuated every curve, casting subtle shadows that made her appear almost otherworldly. Her full, busty breasts rose and fell with her slow, steady breaths, the nipples hard and erect. Her taut stomach led to wide hips, and her round, inviting ass was perfectly framed, begging to be grabbed. Her long legs stretched out gracefully, and her cunt, barely concealed by a thin strip of dark hair, glistened with arousal, the sight of her making his cock throb.
Maekar stood rooted for a moment, his grip tightening on the flower crown. The faint flicker of the candlelight made her skin glow, highlighting the smooth planes of her body and the dusky hue of her complexion.
Rhaenys’s smirk deepened as she saw his reaction. "Well, husband-to-be? Will you just stand there, or shall we begin our wedding night a little early?" Her voice was a sultry purr, dripping with desire.
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Maekar x Rhaenys NSFW chapter will be posted later with their other encounters thought it would be better that way.
Comments
TyrantGod
Will something further happen with Cersei or Arianne? Or that chapter is closed? What happened to Doran?
Zack
Thank god hahahaha! Thanks for the clarification!
Illusiveone
Nah Makear stopped his philandering ways I think I mentioned that in the last chapter. He was just introducing Robb to the pleasures of the city.
Zack
Damn, I lost so much respect for him here. The dude has Rhaenys AND Danaerys but decides to spend time with prostitutes🤮? Cersei made sense, because he needed her support, but prostitutes? At least let him keep some integrity damn haha🤣
Illusiveone
I’m not sure about the Kingsguard. I have an idea to incorporate the Varangians. I don’t plan to change names like the Hand of the King. Search for new dragons will begin in the next chapter, along with the continuation of the Wall plot.
TyrantGod
Will he reform the Kingsguard too? Similar to Secret service ? Glad for Shireen’s ending. What reforms will he make for the army? Will he change some of the names like Hand of King to Prime Minister or Chancellor, etc When will the other dragons hatch and will Viserys get one too? More dragon riders will be optimal for the war? Has MC started sending dragonglass to the wall yet?
