Maegor The Terrible

Maegor awoke before the first light of dawn. The room was dim but alive with the faint orange glow of embers smoldering in the hearth. The air was cool, carrying the scent of old wood and steel. Beside him, Cercy lay still, her golden hair spread across the pillows like a sunlit tapestry. She slept peacefully, her features soft, untouched by the harsh realities that awaited beyond the chamber doors.

He allowed himself a moment to study her, his gaze lingering on her serene face. A part of him, buried deep beneath layers of iron resolve, envied her quiet reprieve. Yet tenderness was a fleeting indulgence for a king. Duty demanded its due.

With a sharp exhale, Maegor swung his legs out of bed, the cold stone floor biting against his bare feet. He dressed precisely, each piece of his attire chosen for purpose rather than comfort. His black surcoat, embroidered with the red three-headed dragon of House Targaryen, fit snugly over his broad shoulders. A thick leather belt secured his sword, Blackfyre, at his side. His gauntlets and greaves followed, polished to a mirror sheen that reflected the flickering firelight.

As his squire Bernarr Brune, assisted with his armor, Maegor stood motionless, his mind already turning to the day's challenges. Every piece of his morning routine was deliberate, every action a reaffirmation of his discipline and authority.

The doors to his chambers opened with a low groan, and he strode through the Red Keep's corridors with purpose. The servants he passed bowed deeply, their eyes fixed on the ground as if meeting his gaze might ignite them.

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As Maegor enterd the council chamber he noticed it was quieter this time, though the tension had only thickened.

The council chamber was brightly lit, the sun illuminating the walls. The lords stood to recive him. "Your grace" they said.

Maegor sat at the head of the table, clad in polished black armor that reflected the firelight, a stark contrast to the pale, nervous faces of the lords gathered before him. No one dared mention Aenys or his claim; the room was a graveyard of silence.

"You may sit"

Maegor's mood was calmer this day, though his presence was no less formidable. His eyes burned with a determined intensity, the force of his will heavy enough to make even the boldest lord avert his gaze.

Visenya sat beside him, her presence lending an air of authority to the proceedings.

"We are here to discuss the future of the realm," Maegor began, his voice low and dangerous. "I have already dealt with those who sought to sow discord. Let us now focus on the matters that lie ahead. Tell me about my relm."

Lord Stokeworth, seated farthest from Maegor, cleared his throat. "Your Grace, there have been reports of small raiding parties along the border, but nothing that suggests a large-scale incursion."

"Dornish scum... Bandits or not, it is a challenge to my authority. I will not allow my realm to be threatened, not even from Dorne. I it nigh time they learn thier place."

Lord Edwell Celtigar spoke "May- maybe a more diplomatic solution could be aranged"

Maegor's eyes narrowed as he leaned forward, his voice cold. "The Dornish are subjects of the Iron throne and in rebelion against their rightful king. We do not negotiate with traitors!"

Visenya spoke up, her voice sharp as a dagger. "We will show them the might of the dragon. They have tested us for too long. Their defiance will be met with fire."

"O- of course your graces" said lord Celtigar.

The room fell silent again, the lords exchanging uneasy glances. No one dared to speak, all too aware of the consequences of questioning Maegor's plans.

"Very well," Maegor continued, his voice cutting through the tension. "We will address this swiftly. Send a raven to lords Baratheon & Tyrell, tell them to send more soldiers to the border. That should be enough for now."

"Now, what of the capital? The city choking on its own growth. Its streets are crowded with filth and lawlessness. This is unworthy of the seat of House Targaryen."

The lords shifted uncomfortably in their seats, unsure of where Maegor's ire would land. "The city is indeed overrun," Lord Valerion said cautiously. "The slums breed unrest, and the Watch is stretched too thin to maintain order."

Maegor's gaze snapped to him, sharp as a blade. "Then we will strengthen the Watch. The City Guard will be reformed, doubled in size, and better equipped. I want their captain replaced with someone of unshakable devotion and skill, my squire Bernarr Brune sall assume the comand."

"Your geace," said ser Corlys "The boy is ton even a knight, how wou-"

"Bernarr is a fine warrior and a loyal man ser, he will do well". "The commander of the watch will also have a place at the counsile from now."

"But your grace-"

"My word is final!"

Visenya leaned forward, her eyes narrowing in thought. "If you wish the Watch to be loyal, they must be rewarded. Better pay, their loyalty must be bought as much as commanded."

"It will be done," Maegor said firmly.

"As for the city itself, will build wide avenues, great walls and markets to rival the Free Cities. The slums will be cleared and new homes and parks will replace the hovels. .King's Landing will become the greatest city the world has ever seen."

"We will give the people purpose. Let them build my city. Those who labor will find work and shelter; those who resist will find my justice."

The lords exchanged glances, some murmuring their agreement. Lord Celtigar spoke cautiously. "Your Grace, such an undertaking would require a vast amount of gold. The treasury may struggle to fund such ambitions while maintaining the crown's other needs."

"Then raise the funds," Maegor commanded, his tone brooking no argument. "Increase the tax for the merchants and for the nobels, and those who profit from the city's chaos. I will not allow my vision to be hindered by coin."

Visenya's voice was measured but approving. "It will also serve as a display of your rule's strength. The people will see their king building them homes and magnificent monuments. They will they will surely adore you."

Maegor nodded. "Exactly. I will not only be feared; I will be revered. When the smallfolk look upon the Red Keep, the markets, the wide streets, they will know it was I who gave it to them. They will remember Maegor the Builder as much as Maegor the Conqueror."

"As you will your grace."

"And now," Maegor said, his voice suddenly softer but no less commanding, "We must discuss my coronation."

Visenya's eyes gleamed with pride as she added, "The coronation must be a spectacle, a display of strength. A public declaration of Maegor's right to rule. The people must see him crowned in full glory, just as Aegon was."

It will be the grandest the world has ever seen, a declaration that House Targaryen reigns supreme."

Visenya's eyes gleamed with pride. "Aegon's coronation was a triumph, but yours will be a spectacle beyond compare. The lords and ladies of the Seven Kingdoms must bear witness. The people must see the strength of their king. Dragons must fill the skies, and the steps of the Great Sept must run with fire and light."

"It will be the start of my rule. The start of a golden age." Said Maegor, "All nobels are required to come, or there will be consequenses" 

"This coronation," Maegor continued, "will not be a mere ceremony. It will be a declaration of my rule, of the power of House Targaryen. Let it be known to all: I am not a king to be questioned."

"Maybe a grand tourny perhaps?" Sugested lord Celtigar.

"Yes, a tourny that will last for 3 weeks" Said Maegor "The grandest the continent has ever and will see and the prizes will be in accordans to that."

"The coronation wil be held at the throne room, and the High septon himself would come to me, kneel and bless my rule infront of the relm."

"The High Septon," Lord Hightower said cautiously, "Would not be happy with this decission."

"He is not the king and he will kneel," Maegor replied flatly. "And if he does not, then I will find a Septon who will." The lords nodded, their voices murmuring agreement, though their eyes betrayed their unease.

Visenya smiled faintly, her pride in her son unmistakable. "You will be remembered, Maegor. The world will tremble before you."

The room fell silent, all eyes fixed on Maegor as he stood, his towering presence filling the chamber. "That will be all. This council exists to carry out my will, my word is law, Let there be no confusion."

As the meeting adjourned, Visenya remained by her son's side, watching as the council members filed out. The air was heavy with the weight of Maegor's will, and none of the lords seemed eager to test him.

"They fear you," Visenya said quietly, her voice laced with approval.

"They should fear me," Maegor replied, his gaze burning with unrelenting ambition. "Fear keeps them in line."

"Fear is a weapon," she warned. "But it can turn against you if you wield it too carelessly."

Maegor's eyes flicked to her, his expression unreadable. "I know what I am doing."

Visenya smiled, her lips curling into a rare, approving expression. "Let us hope so, my son."

As they left the council chamber together, Maegor's mind was already turning, planning his next steps. The path ahead was fraught with danger, but he would walk it with fire and blood. Nothing would stand in his way.