259 AC. King's Landing
Maegor
Maegor dismounted from his crimson steed and approached the manse by the Iron Gate of King's Landing. A smell of rotten fish innards and lemon-scented perfume clung to the air. Maegor clinched his nose, for years he's been to this city, he could never get used to the stink. Yet it was not the foul stench of the peasantry, nor the pungent fragrances of the nobility that bothered him. It was the combination of the two that truly raised the bile within his stomach.
The manse was built some odd decades ago by a queer lordling from Dorne. It had high brick walls lined with bronze ornaments on top every third brick and a thick iron-framed gate coupled with twin grotesques shaped like fanged harpies lined on each side. The Mysterious lordling sold the manse soon after it was built and was never seen again.
Now it belonged to one Lord Daewyd Darklyn, the Master of Whisperers, the lord of Dun Fort and Duskendale, the owner of many popular taverns and inns within the walls of King's Landing, and, coincidentally, Maegor's foster father for most of his teenage years.
Maegor looked to the Harpies again, a sense of unease grew within him. It was no small task to win the throne from his cousin, this seemed to be as good of a place to start as any. Now though... now Maegor wasn't so sure. Lord Darklyn was a stern man, he never really appreciated some of Maegor's antics back then. And judging from the rumors, his old age did not dull him. Maegor breathed in deeply. I am the true heir to the Iron Throne, I will prevail, with Fire and Blood.
Fat Jon, the servant walked out of the estate.
" Greetings, Prince Maegor. To what business do you have with Lord Darklyn today?", the man bowed low as he did his customary greeting.
Maegor stood straighter. " A private audience with him... It concerns matters of the realm."
" I shall inform Lord Darklyn of your presence, my prince. Would you like any refreshments meanwhile? Wine perhaps?"
" No, Thank you.", he declined dismissively.
Jon bowed again and walked away.
Minutes later, he strolled back to Maegor in the same relaxed, unconcerned pace.
" If you would be so kind as to follow me, my prince, the stable boys will take care of your horse.", he bowed once again before turning around.
The inside of the manse was filled with rich tapestries and exotic arts. One had a muscular summer islander killing an enraged basilisk and another a Myrish painting of a highborn lady dancing with a drunk monkey. None of these strange decorations distracted from Maegor's impending dread, his fear of rejection.
Jon stopped at the final door on the second floor and knocked on it twice.
" My lord, It's Prince Maegor.", The servant said.
" Come in." A gruff voice through the door answered back.
Lord Darklyn's black hair was now a shade of light grey, his beard was short and unruly, his face was lined with wrinkles, even his eyes were lighter. But Maegor could tell that it was the same man from all those years ago, nothing has changed. The old lord stood up and walked to the brighter side of the room. He raised a gold pitcher to Maegor.
"Wine?"
"I am fine, thank you."
" Have some. It's a fine vintage from Arbor, shame for it to go to waste." Lord Darklyn brought a glass to him. Maegor accepted it with lackluster enthusiasm, he wasn't much of a wine drinker these days, not since the dreams started appearing.
The old lord walked back to his chair and sat down, huffing while doing so.
"How are your cousins?" Darklyn asked.
Maegor raised his eyebrows to feign a surprise. Surely the people of King's Landing knew of what happened in Summerhall? " You haven't heard the news?"
" The ravens came three nights ago, Truly tragic. I shall miss Lady Jenny and her funny antics." Lord Darklyn took a leisurely sip from his goblet. " I was asking about your cousin Rhaella and her newborn son."
" They live…" Maegor practically growled out the response. An uncomfortable silence fell between the two. Maegor was never one to display any emotion to his foster father, the years at Dun Fort were not unpleasant, but nor was it enjoyable. The old man looked out to the only double-sided window. Staring into the ocean, as if his thoughts were lost in it. Maegor did not know how to start, his speech of grandiose forgotten in the back of his mind. He shut his eyes and caught his breath in a steady stream of air. " I need your vote." He muttered.
" For what?" The old man asked.
He's toying with me."For the crown, what else?" At that moment, Maegor could not help but raise his tone slightly. Show me respect, old man.
"Ah, I must have mistaken. I thought you were here to discuss the great stag hunt I partook with Lord Bar Emmon, or perhaps Ser Longwater's scandalous victory in the duel with Ser Follard." Lord Darklyn joked and waved his right hand as if dismissing Maegor's questioning.
" Stop your japes, I am here to discuss my right as King. "
With that, Lord Darklyn leaned forward from his chair, rested his goblet on top his marbled desk, and looked Maegor in the eyes. "And why? Why do you wish to be king?"
" It is my right, my father was the elder brother of Aegon, the law of inheritance states that a son comes before a brother, I was robbed of my throne." I am the true heir to the Iron Throne, I will prevail, with Fire and Blood.
"I asked you why you want to be king, not why you should be. " He sounded unimpressed.
You will respect me. " I want to restore glory to House Targaryen. We are a shell of what we once were. Lyonel Baratheon rebelled against the Iron Throne and Aegon married my cousin off to his son. He should have been punished, instead, he was rewarded. The pretenders still linger beyond the narrow sea, they still hold the ancestral blade of my House. I am the true heir to House Targaryen, to Valyria. I will bring respect to the name Targaryen once more, through fire and blood."
" A touching speech… your father thought to do the same, and look at what happened to him."
Heat shot up to Maegor's face. He pounded his untouched wine glass on the desk. " I will not have my father's name tarnished, he was a great man."
" A man you never knew, they call him the Monstrous." Old lord Darklyn voiced nonchalantly, whilst sipping on his goblet.
Maegor stood up at that, pushing his chair back. A man I never knew. Blood rushes through his veins, his face twisted from what he thought was indignation, his skin itched with crimson rage, and a numbing sound drummed in his ears. Blood, blood, Fire and Blood. But he could do nothing, he needed Lord Darklyn's support to have a chance to win this game.
" You are in my home, Maegor, behave like a guest. Sit down." The old man did not move an inch from his chair. He took another chilled sip from his goblet though. " There will be no vote, and that is final."
Maegor did not sit. " That's preposterous, I am of age and able-bodied, Jaeharys is sickly and weak. I am more fit to rule." His voice started to sound desperate even to him. " There should be a vote at the very least."
Sip. " He is the prince of Dragonstone, you are the prince of nothing. You hold no castles, nor lands. All the men you have, King Aegon gave them to you. What do you have other than your blood?" The old lord questioned.
" I… I am a knight.." A squeak compared to his glorious speech only moments before.
" Boy, have I taught you nothing, for all those years? You think I knighted you because of your skill at arms, or your valor, your honor? Do not make me laugh. I put my blade upon your shoulder because you were the king's nephew, nothing more." Sip. " The lords might not have loved our old king, but they respected him, supported him. They will do the same for his son. What makes you think they will follow you?"
" Aegon was too close to the smallfolk, he was too lenient to them. I will bring power back to the lords. I know you have always petitioned for the port of Duskendale to be rebuilt, if I am king, I shall grant that request."
Sip. " A tempting proposition, but an unrealistic one. Even if I did support you, my words would matter little if I am the only one."
" Lord Robar likes me…he invited me to his daughter's name day ceremony." Maegor reasoned meekly.
" Lord Robar was polite to you because you are a prince. You have no influence in court, the years you've spent in the citadel studying dragons does little when it comes to the matter of kingship. It reminds them of your father, not to mention your name..." My name? Damn my name! Why father, why? Why do you wish to curse me so!
Maegor offered his last defense. " My squire is the heir to Yronwood, I can convince house Yronwwod to raise their banner…"
Lord Darklyn cut him off swiftly. " Your squire is with you as a hostage, the Yronwoods are a Dornish house with a dying influence, they spent the last of it allying with the fourth pretender. They might contest claims in Dorne, but in the capital? No chance. I've given it enough thought, go back to your wife and son."
" My son?" Vaella has already given birth… I am a father now.
" Oh... You didn't know?" Lord Darklyn chuckled at that. "Your boy was born when the red comet struck the sky, quite a sight really. I guess you are truly desperate if you come to me before you go to them." The old man groaned from his back pain. " Maegor, listen to my sage advice, your reign is over the moment your father named you after the Cruel. But it is not too late for your children. Jaehaerys' line is weak and feeble, perhaps one day they will die off. And that day is when your children will rule. Teach them to be loved by high and lowborn alike, and they have a chance. Now go, don't do anything stupid, I taught you better than that."
Maegor walked out of the room. Born beneath a bleeding star, among smoke and salt, comes the prince who was promised. The promised prince… is my son. Born from the line of the Brightflame.
…
Maegor rushed to his chamber in the Red Keep. When he opened the door, he saw his wife, Vaella, holding a white bundle. Vaella was two years senior to Maegor, she was not his first choice when it came to a wife, nor his second really. It was Rhaelle who he fancied first, then she was married off to Storm's End. Sometimes Maegor thought Aegon did so to spite him. But he had found comfort in Vaella. Her innocence intoxicates Maegor just as much as it infuriates him. How can a woman be so simple yet so addicting at the same time? She was frail in her beauty, something to be cherished and protected. At least I have you. Though she looked the part of an aging woman, her eyes still brought smiles to people in court, her laughter could be heard from the godwoods to the jousting grounds, they adored her, until she married me.
" Maegor?"
" Vaella." Maegor answered. He looked to the bundle in her arms. " That's my son?"
" Yes, our son, do you wish to see him?" A mystifying smile appeared on Vaella's face. Maegor approached them gently, afraid that his usual pace would scare them.
The babe still had a pink hue to him, but he looked healthy. His hair already started growing, a few strings of silver lined on top of his delicate head. " We should name him Daeron, after my father… the babe has his eyes after all." The babe's eyes opened, and brown orbs starred back at Maegor instead of the usual purple known to House Targaryen. Was it shock or was it shame? The true heir to the throne does not look like a dragon. But at that moment Maegor did not care, he was a father now. He felt warmth, he felt love, he felt like a part of a family. The line of the Brightflame.
" No... he shall be Allerion, after my father." The man I never knew.
...
Author note:
I noticed there is another fic that has a similar name called "line of brightflame". Just want to say that these two fics are not the same. Ok, maybe the first sentence of the summary. But I promise that is it.
Just to explain to people who might not know the canon targ family tree related to this story: King Maekar I has 4 sons: Daeron, Aerion, Aemon, and Aegon. Daeron and Aerion died, Aemon became a maester. So the contesting heirs of Maekar are Daeron's daughter: Vaella, Aerion's son: Maegor (one of my main characters), and Aegon. Everyone voted for Aegon and he became Aegon V the unlikely at the age of 33.
There is not much information offered about Vaella and Maegor, so they are basically OCs. In canon, Vaella is actually ten years older than Maegor, but for the convenience of the story, she is two years older (just gotta go with it).
Review replies:
Binrou: My idea is that Maegor wants a targaryen bride but he can't marry Rhaella due to age difference (and other factors), and there's no other living unwed female targaryen at the time. So he settles with Vaella. In the world setting, I don't think Vaella had much of a choice, unfortunately. She probably did not have any betrothals because she was simple-minded. And if Maegor asked Aegon for her hand, there's a good chance he accepts it (just have to accept this part for the story to work, sorry) . In terms of her survival, she did not die from a known cause in canon, and she's a princess so she probably had people take care of her, therefore I think it works. Anyways, Thank you for your review, appreciate it!
Narkalui: Thank you for catching that! I had no idea. Will try to fix that soon!
Thanks for the rest of you for liking the fic, appreciate all of you!