CHAPTER 1
"Maegara?" After the thief had been dragged halfway across the Great Hall and he announced that the court was over, King Rhaelon turned to look at his daughter, who watched the scene from the balcony, standing next to her brother. For a split second, they resembled him and Alysanne when they were children—Daemon tall and clad in black and red, and Maegara fair and in a gown that was just as Targaryen as she was. "May I have a word?"
Despite the distance, he could see his children glance nervously at each other before Maegara walked from the balcony to the stairs and then to the base of where the Iron Throne stood. The small portion of merchants who came to pay court to him had left as soon as he sentenced the thief, but the lords, knights, and ladies from great and lesser houses remained, and smiled and mumbled to his daughter as she tried to pass through.
She bowed at bottom of the base. They had none of that formal courtesy when it was only the family who were present—they were connected by the blood of Aegon the Conqueror, and were not afraid of each other— and Maegara was always the one who took advantage of that, but with a large amount of nobles in the room, Rhaelon was grateful that Maegara remembered her courtesies and bowed like a proper lady. He nodded at his guards as he rose from the Iron Throne, careful not to cringe as he felt a scratch on his breeches, and took her hand as they exited the hall, feeling the eyes of everyone in the room looking at the two.
"I saw you and Daemon when I sentenced the thief," He said reproachfully, but not unkindly. "What did you think about it that made Daemon have to calm you?"
Maegara's beautiful, Valyrian-featured face formed into a scowl. "The black cells for a year, father? I'd rather see his head on the spikes on the morrow."
"We behead those guilty of treason, as well as those who attempt to harm the royal family." Rhaelon pointed out. "Since when has thievery been as heinous as treason?"
"Since he tried to steal grandmother's crown," She replied fiercely. "He did harm us—when he tried to steal it."
"But the last time I checked, your grandmother is dead and has no need for a crown." He mused. "And the fact that we have no need to trade our ancestors' crowns for coin makes us very well-off that he did no harm."
"But it is ours." She stressed. They entered the courtyard and made their way to the dungeon. By the time they were through crossing the courtyard, Maegara was still going on about the technicality of the thievery being treason. "Nobody steals from the dragon and lives to tell it—they burn for it."
She said the last line with such fiery conviction that Rhaelon had to stop to look at his daughter. At sixteen, Princess Maegara was a fair woman-child pleasing to look at. Her eyes were a light shade of purple that stood out on her pale face with lovely features and wavy white hair that had the faintest shade of gold. She had a slender woman's figure, and the seamstresses his wife had hired for their daughter's gowns made dresses that emphasized that she was no longer a girl but a woman. But there was something else, whether it was the wisdom and fiery, willful spirit in her that blended together to create his daughter or something else, he knew that was the only thing her septas did not teach her.
And for that, Rhaelon was proud of his daughter.
"True," He admitted as they stopped in front of the entrance to the dungeons. "However, a true king knows the difference between acting in the name of justice and acting in the name of his legacy—his family. Don't think that I didn't have half a mind to throw him into the bottom of the dungeon and left him to fend for himself, but that is not how we punish thievery, and what would it look like to have a king imprison one and behead another simply because the latter stole from the king's own household?"
"It wouldn't be fair." She relented, realizing where he stood.
"It wouldn't be fair." He repeated. He opened the door, and they could hear the faint sounds of screaming. "But a while ago, I gave an order in front of the whole court. And what do you know about Kings and orders, Marga?"
She smiled wickedly. "Kings can change their orders."
"Kings can change their orders." He smiled back. "Especially when no one is watching. Now come."
They descended the dungeon in silence, hearing nothing but the sound of their footsteps, the armor of the Kingsguard clanking on the stone, and the screams of the thief, which were getting louder as they descended. Finally, they reached a platform with an open door, where the screaming was at its loudest.
Dragged here by the gold cloaks, you think he'd stop his wailing when they pulled him out of the Great Hall.Maegara rolled her eyes. The gold cloaks and gaolers bowed before the king and the princess, two of the gold cloaks pushing the thief to the ground.
"Second lesson, Marga." Rhaelon continued in a calm, almost cheery voice that did not fit the dim, dreary, black cells. "As a princess, you have the power to affect someone's life. Well, so do I, your brother, your mother, and everyone else—we all affect each other. But understand this—actions were done for a reason, but you must be ready to face its consequences."
The thief muttered a prayer to the Mother. The black cells were lit only by the few torches that hung on the wall, and Maegara watched as her father looked at the thief indifferently but with the fire exposing the fury in his eyes. "Take this…creature…for example. He tried to steal our ancestor's treasured crown. Had he been successful, he would have sold it and lived a comfortable life with his family for the rest of his days…but he wasn't, was he? Now, his action affected us—in a bad way. As you said, Marga—Nobody steals from the dragon."
The thief begged louder, and was struck in the face by one of the gold cloaks. Blood sputtered from his mouth, as well as a few teeth, but Maegara dared not cringe. She was a dragon, and dragons did not cringe at the pain of lesser men.
"As royalty," the King continued. "we are entitled to affect many people by the actions we make. What you can say can hurt—but when you plan to hurt others, it is important to ponder on what could happen next."
Rhaelon reached into a pocket on the robe he wore, pulling out his scepter. It was a golden stick nearly a foot long laden with rubies and onyxes, topped with a golden-red three-headed dragon. Everyone knew it was what King Rhaelon loved to hold whenever he sat on the Iron Throne to pass judgment. Maegara noted that her father did not hold the scepter when he passed judgment onto the thief, and gasped as he slowly placed it on her hand, closing her fingers around it.
"This man's family cannot wait a year for him to return and provide, and will most likely forget him." He said in a deadly quiet voice. "His fate lies on the action you will make—I'm sure Septa Feleya has taught you proper speech, and I am sure I have taught you well on justice and mercy."
The King stepped aside and motioned Maegara to stand in front of the thief, the scepter at hand. Closer to him than she was in the Great Hall, Maegara could see the thief clearer. He looked young—closer to her age than her father—but his brown hair boasted many graying strands. She looked down at the scepter, knowing very well that she could never get another chance like this—and none again if she didn't do it right. She knew her father was right—there was a difference between acting for justice and acting for the legacy. She also knew that the punishment for stealing was a mere month in the black cells, but if her father could bend the law as he would, so could she.
But she wasn't going to make it obvious to the people upstairs.
"You stand before me, accused with the charges of thievery." Her lady mother and septas told her that she had a sweet voice, and excelled in singing, speaking, and reading poetry in Valyrian tongue. Down in the black cells, the sweetness in her voice was mixed with the anger she felt for this man, and amplified by the empty halls of the black cells, she boomed like a demon bellowing from the Seven Hells. "The sentence of which is a month in the black cells."
She saw the man's face light up as she mentioned a month. Next to the thief, the guards scowled, glaring at the man. They have no idea that this girl can be a dragon too.Her father's expression remained unmoved. I'll show them.
"However," Their expressions were reversed once more. "Your actions are also an act of treason against the royal family."
His ray of hope had disappeared, just as she wanted it to. "My lady…I committed no—"
"It is considered treason to steal from the royal family, the sentence of which is death." She regretted raising her voice, as the halls made it louder than she would have liked and it came out a bit garbled, but made no change in her stony emotion and kept her voice steady. "You are now accused of boththievery and treason."
The man was sobbing now. The guards and her father looked impressed. "In the name of my father, His Grace Rhaelon of House Targaryen, Second of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm, I, Maegara of House Targaryen, Princess of Dragonstone, do hereby sentence you…to both." When he looked at her with a confused face, she fought a smile and continued. "You are hereby sentenced to stay one month in the deepest level of the dungeons. After thirty days, assuming you survive and if you can find your way to the guards waiting by the door, you are free."
The man looked horrified, wishing he had his first sentence that her father lazily gave back in the Great Hall. She wanted very much for him to die, but decided he lead himself to his death the same way he lead himself to the room where her grandmother's crown was kept. But that did not mean she could toy with him. "But of course, my guards are very busy men." She continued. "If you do not find the door by thirty days—assuming you survive thirty days—and make it after thirty-one days or later, don't expect anyone to keep the door opened."
No man who was sentenced to the lowest level ever saw sunlight again, and she wondered how the man planned to count his days when he would never see it again. She turned to the gold cloak next to him. "You understand what that means, I presume?"
"I understand, my lady." He nodded, smirking.
"Good, now go. Ask the gaoler for assistance as well." She allowed. "I also assume that you know where I want him? Blindfold him while going there."
"Yes, my lady." The other guard replied. They grabbed the thief, pulling him out the door and down the stairs, but she called the last gaoler and gold cloak before they left, and ordered them to carry the man so he may not remember the directions by his feet, and have the door blocked by stone on their way out.
They were out of the dungeons ten minutes later. Rhaelon ordered his Kingsguard away, and they went back to their tower, leaving him to walk back to the Keep with Maegara. As soon as they were alone, he placed a firm hand on her shoulder. "Always know that the consequences of your actions will affect someone else." He repeated, but in a lighter voice. "I'm pleased with what you've done—he won't survive a month there, if the stories are true."
"He won't—most likely a fortnight if he enjoys dining on rats and piss." Maegara said confidently as they made their way back up. They made their way back to the Keep, talking about trivial matters as though they never went through what just happened. As soon as they reached the entrance, Rhaelon turned to her.
"I suggest you do not mention this to your brother." He said. "It wouldn't be very…kingly of him, if he found out that his sister passed judgment on the man."
"Yes father," She said dutifully. "I will be in my chambers."
Maegara nodded and turned, heading to the left wing. Rhaelon peeked from around the corner to watch his daughter walk away. Instead of reaching the end of the hallway and turning right, she stopped to look and, when she did not see him, turned left on another corridor. Rhaelon knew exactly where she was going, and was still not sure if he should be happy or angry and put a stop to it. But she reminded her so much of Alysanne when they were younger and he couldn't be angry at her, and he turned to his chambers on the opposite wing.
Rhaelon sighed, thinking of Maegara as he walked. His worries would be less and he could sleep a lot easier had Maegara been born with a cock. Underneath the silk gowns and fine jewelry, his daughter was the calculating, manipulative, but well-mannered and compassionate leader Westeros needed if the Targaryens were to rule. But the seven chose to spit in his face by giving him the child who could have been the perfect ruler—and then made the child a woman who could never sit on the Iron Throne. Daemon was brave and just, but his solution to every problem would always be a sword. He would be a good king after his father, but Maegara would have been great if she were a male.
There was always the thought of marrying them. King Daemon and Queen Maegara, Rhaelon liked to muse. But with parts of the Westerlands still in rebellion, the purity of the future dragons was no longer a priority. Had they had peace, he would have married them years ago, and Maegara would be the one to balance out her brother. King Daemon and Queen Maegara.
He hoped Maegara understood the second lesson was not just for the prisoner, because what he was planning would affect her very much.
