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54: The Son of Ice and Fire, Overconfidence
🕑 Added 2024-08-16 20:34:51 +0000 UTCMaekar
Red Keep
Maekar closed his eyes, taking a deep breath as he focused, feeling the now-familiar sensation of his consciousness slipping away from his physical form. His mind began to drift, seamlessly merging with the mind of the raven perched on the windowsill. The transition was smooth, almost natural now—he was amazed at what he was capable of after only one week of guidance from Bloodraven.
In an instant, he was no longer confined to his room but soaring high above King's Landing. The cool wind rushed through his feathers as he glided effortlessly over the bustling city below. The harbor sprawled out beneath him, with ships of various sizes bobbing gently in the water, their sails catching the dying rays of the sun. The docks were alive with activity—merchants haggling over prices, dockworkers unloading cargo, and sailors preparing for their next voyage.
He banked left, following the winding course of the Street of Steel, where the clang of hammers against metal rang out from the many forges. Sparks flew as blacksmiths toiled away, crafting weapons, armor, and tools for the city's inhabitants. The street was lined with shops displaying gleaming swords, armor, and a variety of other metalwork.
After flying some more, he arrived at the Great Sept of Baelor, its impressive marble structure dominating the skyline. The great dome of leaded glass sparkled in the fading light, while the seven slender crystal towers reached toward the heavens. The Sept's lofty dome and the intricately designed towers seemed to glow with an inner light, casting long shadows over the city. He descended gracefully, circling the grand plaza of white marble below, and landed softly atop the large statue of Baelor the Blessed.
As he scanned the surroundings, his sharp eyes caught movement on the roof of a nearby building—a cat, sleek and agile, prowling along the edge as if on the hunt. Curiosity piqued, he decided to test something. He focused on the cat, trying to shift his consciousness from the raven into the feline's form.
At first, it felt as if he were being pulled toward the cat, his awareness stretching out, attempting to meld with the creature. But it was different from the raven; the connection was tenuous, slippery. The cat's mind resisted, its instincts fighting against the intrusion. Maekar strained, feeling the edges of his consciousness fraying as he struggled to maintain control. The cat's vision blurred, and for a moment, he felt a disorienting split—half raven, half cat, neither fully in control.
Suddenly, the effort became too much. The world around him lurched, and he was violently snapped back to his own body. His eyes flew open, and he found himself back in his chamber, gasping for breath, his head throbbing with pain.
"Fuck, shouldn't have done that," he muttered, pressing a hand to his temple, trying to steady himself. The room spun slightly as he tried to shake off the disorienting effects of the failed attempt. He tried to stand up, but the room spun around him, and his legs gave out, sending him crashing back onto the bed. Darkness swallowed him whole as he lost consciousness.
When Maekar opened his eyes again, he found himself staring up at an endless, open sky. Slowly, he sat up—he was no longer in his chambers. Instead, he was on the banks of a large, placid lake. The water stretched out before him, so vast that no other land was visible on the horizon. The surface of the lake was eerily calm, reflecting the cloudless sky above with almost perfect clarity. The water lapped gently at the pebbled shore, a soothing sound that he enjoyed very much.
"You were careless," came the gravelly voice of Bloodraven from behind him.
Maekar's face turned apologetic as he remained seated, still facing the lake.
"I'm sorry... I thought..." he began, his voice trailing off as he tried to find the right words, but he still couldn't bring himself to face the old man.
"It's only been a week since I started teaching you, and you almost killed yourself," Bloodraven's voice was laced with anger, the disappointment clear in his tone.
Maekar winced, the rebuke stinging more than he’d expected. "Didn't really feel like I was going to die," he muttered, finally gathering the courage to turn and face Bloodraven.
The old man stood a short distance away, his figure dark against the pale light of the sky. His gaunt features made him look even more menacing in the dreamscape. The stark black robe he wore contrasted with the serene surroundings, making him appear as an intruder in this otherwise tranquil place.
"You lived because of your rare bloodline," Bloodraven said, his voice still carrying that undercurrent of anger. "If any other novice had attempted what you did, their mind would have been stripped away from their body, leaving them an empty husk."
Maekar swallowed hard, realizing just how close he’d come to disaster. The thought of losing himself, of being trapped in some liminal state between life and death, sent a shiver down his spine.
"I'm sorry, Brynden," Maekar said sincerely, the weight of his earlier mistake pressing down on him. The old man remained silent, his one good eye fixed on the distant horizon as he began to walk along the banks of the lake. Maekar followed, the silence between them heavy, almost oppressive.
After a while, Brynden spoke, his voice thoughtful. "Do you know where we are?"
Maekar looked around again, taking in the vastness of the lake, the thick woods surrounding them. A place did come to mind, a place steeped in history. "If I had to guess, I would say the God's Eye."
"Yes," Brynden confirmed. "This is the God's Eye. It is an important place. It was here that an ancient pact was made between the First Men and the Children of the Forest. It was here that the old gods still thrive in the South. It was here that dragons once danced. And it was here that your father decided to take your mother."
Maekar stopped in his tracks, the weight of Brynden's words sinking in.
"He had so much potential," Brynden continued, his voice carrying a note of regret. "But it was here, when he came to commune with the gods, that I sensed the madness within him."
Maekar’s stomach churned, and he finally asked, "Why are you telling me this, Brynden?"
"Because you are the only one in our family in years who is worthy to sit on the throne," Brynden replied, turning to face Maekar. "Only you can lead the kingdoms to victory against the coming threat."
A cold wave of panic surged through Maekar. Conspiring to take the throne was one thing, but the idea of facing an ancient, unstoppable enemy terrified him. It was a reality he had been avoiding, something he had tried to push to the back of his mind ever since he realized they did exist here, from Euron's journals.
"You've already made mistakes," Brynden continued, his voice sharp. "You should not have told your sister of your plans for the throne. She should have been removed from the board."
Maekar’s expression shifted from concern to annoyance. "It will be easier with her by my side. She's plotting against dear Aegon as well."
Brynden stopped walking and turned to Maekar, his gaze piercing. "What makes you think she will accept? What makes you so certain she won’t turn against you?"
Maekar frowned, but Brynden continued, his tone relentless. "She could tell Aegon. She could play both sides, waiting to see who comes out on top, and then decide where her loyalty lies. Or worse, she could accept your offer and then assassinate you once you’ve won, ensuring that she alone holds the power."
Maekar's chest tightened. The thought of Rhaenys betraying him, or worse, using him to further her own ends, was a scenario he hadn’t fully considered. He had always assumed she would see the logic in his plan, that she would choose to stand by him.
"You may have jeopardized everything," Brynden said, his voice cold and unyielding. "Your trust in her could be your undoing."
Maekar remained silent, absorbing the warning, his mind racing with possibilities and doubts.
"You need to bring her under your control before she has delusions of becoming a second Queen Rhaenyra," Brynden continued, his tone grave.
"I think you're vastly overestimating her," Maekar replied, a touch of defiance in his voice.
"No," Brynden countered sharply. "I think you're underestimating her. Think on this matter, Maekar. There is much at stake. When winter comes, you must be the one to lead us to victory."
The responsibility Brynden was placing on him was immense, almost suffocating.
"Now go," Brynden said, his voice softer but still commanding. "I believe you promised to show your aunt around the city."
Before Maekar could respond, the world around him shifted, and he was jolted awake.
His mouth was dry, and his head throbbed with the remnants of his encounter in the dreamscape. Sitting up, he reached for the pitcher of water on the bedside table. He poured himself a cup and drank greedily, the cool liquid soothing his parched throat.
As he finished drinking, he glanced out the window. The first light of dawn was creeping over the horizon. He had been asleep since the previous evening, lost in the dreamscape—or rather, pulled into it by the old man.
He set the cup down on the table and leaned back in his chair, still processing the encounter. "The fucker is following my every step," he muttered to himself, shaking his head in frustration. It felt like Brynden was always one step ahead, always watching, always guiding—or manipulating—him. It was unnerving, to say the least.
But as he looked out the window, watching the sky shift from dark blue to a soft orange, his thoughts drifted to his plans for the day.
‘Today would be a good day,’ he thought with a grin.
He had promised to spend time with Daenerys, showing her around the city. The thought of her brightened his mood, pushing the dark thoughts from his mind, if only for a moment. He stood up, feeling more grounded now. The day was just beginning, and he had much to do.
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Maekar walked briskly toward the courtyard of the Red Keep, followed by his page, Robin. A contingent of men from the City Watch was waiting for him. The Watch was still undergoing his rigorous reforms, actively recruiting and training new members to rid itself of the corruption that had plagued it for years. He had relinquished his position as head of the Firewatch, appointing a trusted knight from House Rykker to lead in his stead. The Firewatch, no longer requiring a martial wing, had its Varangians incorporated into the City Watch, forming an elite unit that would answer directly to him.
As he approached, the men snapped to attention, their discipline evident in their rigid postures and focused gazes. Ser Alliser Thorne, recently promoted to one of his top officers, stepped forward, bowing deeply.
"My prince," Alliser greeted, his voice respectful and steady.
"Is everything prepared?" Maekar asked, his tone crisp as he surveyed the assembled men.
"Yes, my prince," Alliser replied, straightening up. "The route has been secured, and the men are positioned at key points for crowd control. We’ve doubled the guard in the more populated areas to ensure your safety and that of Princess Daenerys."
"Good," Maekar nodded, satisfied with the preparations. "Walk me through the plan again."
Alliser cleared his throat and began to outline the day’s itinerary. "We’ll begin by riding towards the markets, where we’ve arranged for additional guards to manage the crowds. After that, we’ll visit the parts of Flea Bottom currently under reconstruction. You'll inspect the progress and visit the motherhouses that have been established there. From there, we’ll proceed to the Great Sept of Baelor, where the High Septon is prepared to receive you."
Maekar listened carefully, nodding as Alliser continued.
"For lunch, we’ll stop at your mansion within the city. The staff has been notified, and the manse is secured. Afterward, we'll visit the Dragonpit. You’ll inspect the renovations, especially the sections repurposed as barracks for the Firewatch. Finally, we’ll return to the Red Keep before nightfall."
“Be ready to make changes if Daenerys wishes to go elsewhere,” he instructed Alliser, his gaze lingering on the assembled men. He could sense their readiness, their eagerness to prove themselves under his command, but he also knew they were acutely aware of the stain left on the City Watch by the likes of Hayford and his corrupt followers.
Taking a deep breath, he stepped forward, his voice steady and authoritative as he addressed them. "Men of the City Watch," he began, his words cutting through the morning air like a blade, "I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking that the stench of Hayford’s corruption still lingers in the air, that no matter what we do, the people of this city, the royal family, will never fully trust you again. And you’re right—the trust in the Watch is at an all-time low. We all know what Hayford and his cronies did, and it has tarnished the reputation of this institution, perhaps beyond repair."
He paused, letting his words sink in, watching as the men before him shifted uneasily, their faces somber as they acknowledged the truth of his statement.
"But," Maekar continued, his voice rising with conviction, "that is precisely why we are here today. This is one of the first chances we have to show your loyalty, your competence, and your dedication to the crown and the people of this city. You can either be crushed under the weight of your past, or you can rise above it and prove that you are not the same Watch that once turned a blind eye to injustice, that once took bribes to look the other way."
The men listened in silence, the gravity of his words evident on their faces. They knew the road ahead would be long, that it would take more than a single day or a single act to regain the trust they had lost. But they also knew this was their chance to start.
Maekar's gaze swept over them once more, his expression hardening. "Today, we show the royal family, the people of King’s Landing, and ourselves that the City Watch is reborn, that we are a force to be reckoned with. Keep your heads high, your eyes sharp, and your hearts loyal."
There was a tense silence as the men absorbed his words. Then, slowly, the tension began to fade, replaced by a resolve that spread through the ranks like wildfire. They nodded in agreement, their faces set with determination.
"Wait here. I will return soon," Maekar commanded Alliser and Robin, his voice firm. He then turned and made his way toward Maegor’s Holdfast.
As he walked through the bustling corridors of the Red Keep, Maekar observed the lords and ladies milling about, their whispers carrying the scent of intrigue. They gathered in small clusters, huddled close, plotting, gossiping, and scheming—each one trying to carve out a piece of power for themselves in the increasingly volatile court. He could almost feel the invisible threads of alliances forming and unraveling as they moved through the space.
It struck him then, as Brynden had warned, that Rhaenys should not be underestimated. She had been quiet since their last conversation—too quiet. And in a court like this, silence could be more dangerous than words. Maekar knew she was already gathering her own supporters, forming alliances in the shadows. Her position was the weakest, and Aegon's was the strongest. As the crown prince, Aegon was the rightful heir by law, and most of the realm expected him to succeed Rhaegar when the time came.
Aegon’s alliance with the Tyrells was a masterstroke. He had skillfully used his father’s reluctance to arrange marriages to his advantage, securing the support of the entire Reach by courting Margaery Tyrell. Maekar had even considered such an alliance himself in the past, recognizing the power it would bring. But now, it was Aegon who stood to benefit from the Reach’s wealth and armies.
Aegon’s influence didn’t stop there. Lords from the Crownlands and Riverlands, even some from the Stormlands, had begun to gravitate toward him. Dorne was a tricky matter; they would ultimately follow the Martells, who, while not openly hostile to Aegon, were not inclined to support him either. It was clear that the Martells would prefer to see anyone other than Aegon on the throne. And that "anyone" could very well be Rhaenys.
Rhaenys, with her covert alliances in the Crownlands and Riverlands, was also making her moves. He had noticed the frequency of ravens flying to Storm’s End—another sign that she was not content to let Aegon have the upper hand without a fight.
And then there was himself. The North and the Vale were staunchly in his corner, their loyalty unshakeable. The strongest lords of the Crownlands also supported him, but even with all that, it wasn't enough. The balance of power could still tip against him. The West, with its vast wealth and armies, could easily determine the outcome of this struggle, and at the moment, Aegon had all the advantages there.
Joffrey, Aegon's friend, was the key to securing the West, but Joffrey had little authority as long as Tywin Lannister lived. In fact, Joffrey would have no real power until after his mother, Cersei, passed on. She, along with her Lannister cousin-husband, would be the new rulers after Tywin.
He needed the West, but for now, he was stumped on how to bring them into his fold. The upcoming tourney, he thought, would be the true battleground where alliances would be tested and decided. It was there, in the swirl of feasts, jousts, and courtly games, that the future of the realm would be shaped.
As Maekar walked towards Daenerys's chambers, he suddenly caught sight of her and her handmaidens coming his way. It seemed they had decided to seek him out. The moment he saw her, he stopped in his tracks, unable to move or even breathe for a moment. Daenerys was wearing the dress he had gifted her—a delicate gown of shimmering silver and blue that seemed to capture the light with every step she took. She looked like the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.
When Daenerys noticed him, her face lit up with a genuine smile that made her seem even more radiant, if that were possible. He felt his heart beat faster, his breath catching in his throat. For a fleeting moment, he imagined himself sitting on the Iron Throne, with Daenerys by his side, ruling the Seven Kingdoms together.
He quickly shook off those thoughts as she drew closer, her smile still warm and inviting.
"We were looking for you, Maekar," she said, her voice filled with the kind of warmth that made his chest tighten.
He found himself momentarily lost for words, simply staring at her. His silence seemed to worry her, and the smile slowly faded from her lips, replaced by a hint of concern. He noticed her handmaidens exchanging knowing smiles, clearly amused.
"Maekar..." she called his name softly, her voice bringing him back to reality.
"I... I was looking for you as well," he managed to say, his voice sounding rougher than he intended. "Everything is prepared for our day in the city."
"Oh, that's wonderful!" Daenerys exclaimed, her smile returning as she reached out and took his hand, eager to lead him along. But almost immediately, she seemed to realize what she had done and quickly dropped his hand, blushing furiously. "Oh, I'm sorry, that was..."
"It's fine, Dany," he interrupted gently, using the more familiar name that only a few were allowed to use. "We are family; there's no need for formalities between us."
Daenerys's blush deepened, but she nodded, a shy smile on her lips.
"Come, let's not waste any more time," he said, his voice more steady now. He offered her his arm, and she took it, her hand resting lightly on his forearm as he led her towards the courtyard where the escort awaited.
As Maekar and Daenerys walked through the corridors, they encountered Rhaenys, Arianne, Obara, Tyene, and Nymeria. He immediately noticed how Arianne's eyes narrowed as they fell on Daenerys's hand resting on his forearm.
"Aunt, brother, where are you off to?" Rhaenys asked, her voice light but with a hint of curiosity that made Maekar wary.
Before he could answer, Daenerys spoke up, her tone cheerful. "Maekar offered to show me around the city."
Rhaenys smiled, but Maekar caught the subtle undertone behind it. There was something more than just a sister's casual interest. "How nice of you, brother. I didn't know you and our aunt were so close."
Daenerys quickly responded, "We've been exchanging letters since we met last year," she explained naively.
Maekar noticed Arianne's expression shift subtly, a flicker of something that might have been jealousy. The change in her demeanor was slight, but he could read it clearly.
"Oh, you're going to the city?" Arianne interjected, her voice carrying an edge of forced casualness. "I was planning to go as well. Perhaps I could come with you?"
His irritation flared as he saw the disappointment flash across Daenerys's face. What was Arianne playing at? He didn't have time for these games. He shot a look at Rhaenys, silently communicating his displeasure.
Rhaenys seemed to understand, though her expression was somewhat unreadable. Still, she got the message. "Ari, I told you I need your help with something," Rhaenys said, her tone firm.
"But..." Arianne began to protest, her eagerness evident.
"No," Rhaenys cut her off with finality. "Have a good day, aunt, brother," she said, before taking a very reluctant Arianne by the arm and leading her away. Obara and her sisters offered him apologetic glances before following after them.
As they left, Maekar could hear Daenerys's handmaidens whispering to each other about how rude Arianne had been, but Daenerys herself seemed relieved, a small smile returning to her lips.
"Come, we have lots to see," Maekar said, his voice lightening as he led Daenerys toward the courtyard once more.
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