Maegor III
Word from the Riverlands had been scarce since the Queen had taken King's Landing, but Maegor had done his best to keep himself appraised of what had been happening there. Many of the Riverlords had declared for the Queen's cause, but from what Maegor had been told, they were strung out and disorganized. After the sound defeat of the Queen's organized support in the Reach, it was important that her support in the Riverlands not be crushed as well.
Though Lord Jason Lannister himself had been slain fighting at the Red Fork river, his host had remained intact and continued to march despite grievous losses. From the information that eventually reached Maegor's ears, the Westerlands host had fought and won a battle beneath the walls of Acorn Hall, but had lost their commander Ser Adrian Tarbeck only a few days later when he was killed by a hedge knight in a skirmish.
Aside from the Hightower army moving northeast through the Reach, one other great threat remained to the Queen. This was the possibility of Prince Aemond and Ser Criston Cole's army of Crownlands Lords loyal to the usurper Aegon joining forces with the Westermen in the Riverlands. However, that fear had been assuaged when news had reached the city of a great battle that had been fought along the Gods Eye's western shore.
Gaemon had entered Maegor's chambers within the Dragonpit with a large grin on his face. "What is it?" Maegor had asked, for the grin on his friend's face could have meant many different things.
"The Westermen are finished, Maegor. The word has been spreading down from the Red Keep all morning! The Riverlords were able to join their forces with an advance party of Northmen, and they forced the Westermen into the lake. Their entire army was destroyed!" Maegor smiled, and felt a sense of relief wash over himself. It seemed that the support that the Queen had gathered to her cause had finally begun to find its footing.
Maegor had never thought that there would be a day when he found a sense of relief in the death of thousands. However, his involvement in this war had changed him. By the conclusion of one battle, Maegor had killed more men than the most seasoned veterans would kill in a lifetime. That fact weighed on him, and at times had laid awake some nights wondering about what becoming a dragonrider had cost him. I could have just been a fisherman. It would have been a life without glory, but one that Maegor knew would have made him happy. By taming the Grey Ghost and fighting beneath the Queen's banner, Maegor knew that he had given away a part of himself that he would never get back.
When his self-doubts would begin to grow too strong, however, Maegor reminded himself of what he was fighting for. By riding the Grey Ghost in battle, I can save the lives of the common people, the people who are just trying to lead a life like the one I used to have. It was a flaw that Maegor had found existed among the nobility, from the most insignificant landed knights to the Queen herself. They think of battles to be won and titles to be given, but naught of those who suffer as their armies burn and sack.
When he had helped to burn the fleet of The Three Daughters in the Gullet, Maegor knew he was saving the lives of those in Spicetown and High Tide by burning the men who intended to sack and destroy their homes. If the Queen were to order him to bring Fire and Blood to her enemies in the Reach or Riverlands, Maegor would do so without hesitation. If I must have the blood of soldiers on my hands to prevent their predations, I will bear that burden without regrets. However, if the Queen asked him to burn a village, or a town? Maegor didn't know if he would be able to follow those orders. I pray that it will never come to that.
Maegor had been surprised at how quickly the city of King's Landing had fallen to the forces of the Queen. Because of the fact that both he and Gaemon could read, they were each tasked with landing on a different hilltop within the city to proclaim the Queen's occupation of her city and castle. Maegor had landed the Grey Ghost outside the Dragonpit, a great domed monstrosity of a structure. Even from outside, I could hear the dragons roaring within. For a city of such a large population, Maegor had been surprised when only a small crowd of the city's populace gathered to hear the proclamation given to Maegor by the Queen. Many feared the flames of Queen Rhaenyra's dragons, and it had taken over a day for most of the city's populace to finally come out from their hiding places.
The sun was bright in the sky as Maegor ascended Aegon's High Hill on the back of his gelding. He'd heard that many knights gave names to their mounts, but Maegor did not plan to give his horse a name. I already have a mount. Grey Ghost was the only creature that Maegor ever intended to ride into battle. The other seeds and I are a different kind of cavalry. It felt to Maegor as though the ride from the Dragonpit to the Red Keep was beginning to become a habit. Only a short while before, he'd escorted the man who had saved his life, Ser Gyles Yronwood, to the Red Keep to swear fealty to the Queen.
On most other days, it would be Maegor and Gaemon ascending the hill, to spend the better part of the day sparring in the yard with the Queen's knights, continuously working on improving their skills in swordplay. The best instruction that they received was from Ser Lorent Marbrand, the Lord Commander of the Queensguard, but more often than not he was attending the Queen, so their sparring sessions with the knight were oft few and brief. It was more common that they would spar with other knights and squires of lesser note within the Keep. Ser Marbrand's own squire, another Westerman by the name of Morgon Banefort, was a skilled youth about Maegor and Gaemon's own age that Maegor spent most of his time sparring with. I should like to spar with Ser Gyles as well. Maegor wondered if Dornish knights fought differently than knights from elsewhere in Westeros.
After he rode beneath the massive bronze portcullis that was the main gate of the Red Keep, Maegor was able to quickly hand off his gelding to a stableboy after dismounting. He considered the official but brief summons he and the others had received early that morning in the Dragonpit. Beyond being provided with a time late in the morning that they were expected in the Great Hall, the only other instructions were to be outfitted in the black steel plate armor that had been provided to all of the seeds, save Nettles. She would be wearing her own black leather armor and ringmail. For whatever she is planning, the Queen expects all of her seeds to be present and in full martial attire.
The route to the Great Hall had become a familiar one to Maegor, and he strode towards it with purpose, his plate boots clanking in the stone passageways. Maegor had not fully adjusted to the way servants and other common folk in the castle would make way for him, uttering pleasantries and other respectful words while bowing. They were simply performing the proper courtesies that were expected to be given to knights of the Queen, but it still put Maegor slightly ill at ease. I'm just Maegor, he'd want to say as they bowed and made way for him, but he didn't. It would not be right for a dragon rider of the Queen to presume to do away with expected courtly formalities.
Entering the Great Hall through its massive oak-and-bronze doors, Maegor once again found himself stunned at the size and grandeur of the room. At its far end sat the Iron Throne on its raised dais, and golden sunlight shone into and lit the room. It was mostly empty, and Maegor saw that he was the first of the dragonseeds to arrive. The Queen had not yet entered the room and climbed the throne, and it sat empty, its countless swords glinting in the morning sun.
Standing at the foot of the long crimson carpet that ran from the doors of the Great Hall to the foot of the Iron Throne's dais, Maegor allowed himself to imagine for a fleeting moment that it was he who was the monarch. He walked along the carpet's length, watching the Iron Throne grow larger and larger within his vision. I'm sure that King Maegor walked the length of this hall countless times, Maegor thought with a hint of pride, as well as shame. My great-great-grandsire sat a stolen throne just as the usurper Aegon has, and the realm similarly suffered for it. Reaching the base of the dais, Maegor stood regarding the steps of the throne for a moment. He realized that his right fist was tightly clenching the hilt of his sheathed sword. Slightly perturbed, he released his grip on his sword's hilt before turning and taking his place to the right of the throne as one of the Queen's dragonriders.
As he stood and waited, Maegor continued to consider his heritage, and the throne that he stood beside. King Maegor was the only child of King Aegon and his sister-wife Visenya, and despite having six wives throughout his life, he did not sire a single living heir on any of them. Maegor had often wondered in silence about the heritage of his own great-grandsire, who claimed to be the bastard of Maegor Targaryen. Could a man who sired not a single living child from six wives successfully sire a bastard on a common woman? Maegor wasn't completely sure, but he also knew that magics of an ancient and unknowable sort existed on the island of Dragonstone.
Maegor had decided long ago that he did not care whether or not people believed he was a descendant of a bastard of King Maegor. I'd always believed it myself, and that had been enough. After taming the Grey Ghost, I've proved to everyone that I'm the blood of the Dragon. And his was a different blood than any of the other descendants of Aegon the Conqueror and his sister-wife Rhaenys. Mine is the blood of Queen Visenya, the elder sister. With the deaths of my father and brothers, I'm the last of Queen Visenya's line.
Maegor's thoughts were interrupted by the entry into the Great Hall of two more dragonseeds. Like Maegor, they were similarly dressed in their black plate and winged helms. Ulf White and Hugh Hammer walked the length of the crimson carpet, before taking places to the right of the Iron Throne next to Maegor. Hugh Hammer brushed past Maegor with naught more than a brief cold glance, but Ulf locked eyes with Maegor as he passed. His hazel eyes burned hatefully at Maegor through the slit of his helmet's visor, and Maegor returned a cold blue-grey eyed glare of his own. No words were spoken, but neither Maegor nor Ulf needed to speak to express their hatred for the other.
Frustratingly, Maegor had no evidence against the man. After his conversation with Gaemon and Nettles at the Dragonpit the night that Maegor was almost murdered, he was convinced of the Sot's guilt. The three had made their way to the massive carved alcove that contained the chained-up Cannibal. The massive black dragon was curled in slumber, and did naught more than regard the three seeds with a cold green-eyed glance as they neared it. They chose to speak near the fearsome creature for they knew it would scare away any possible eavesdroppers. Beyond Gaemon, the Cannibal tolerated the presence of Maegor and Nettles, but hissed threateningly at any other living thing that dared come near it, including Ulf White and Hugh Hammer.
Maegor was still stunned from his near-brush with death. He had been drinking in the company of friends for hours when he saw the horrified expressions of Gaemon and Nettles. He had realized that they were looking beyond him when shouting and screaming began behind him. It was only due to the quick action of a Dornish knight that Maegor was not stabbed and killed by an assailant that he hadn't even seen. After they'd arrived back at the Dragonpit, Maegor, Gaemon, and Nettles had gathered by the Cannibal to discuss the night's events.
Leaning against the alcove's curved opening, Nettles had regarded the two seeds standing before her, her brown eyes glinting in the light of the braziers throughout the Dragonpit. "It's too easy to blame the attack on the Greens. I guarantee you that's what Ulf wants everyone to think." She bit her lip, a frustrated expression flitting across her face. "The fucker has us caught too. There's no way for any of us to prove he had something to do with the attack."
Gaemon nodded gravely. "For us to imply that he planned the attack only calls our own motives into question." He was clutching the leather pouch around his neck in his right hand tightly, twisting and turning it as he tried to collect his thoughts.
Maegor turned back to regard Nettles. "It's not to say that I don't agree with you Nettles, but do you think that Ulf would be so bold as to attempt to have another dragonseed murdered by his command?"
Nettles nodded without hesitation, with an uncharacteristically serious expression on her face. "I do think so. Both the Sot and that aurochs Hugh Hammer have nursed grudges against you and Gaemon since the fight over the Gullet. The two of you were heroes, the saviors of Spicetown and High Tide, not to mention rescuing the Prince Viserys and returning him to his mother with a dragon hatchling. What did the rest of us do?" Nettles' mouth twisted bitterly as she continued. "We watched as the Prince of Dragonstone plunged into the sea and was killed. We burned much of the Triarchy's fleet, to be sure, but we couldn't even protect the Prince who gave us all the chance to master dragons." Nettles sighed, and after a moment, a bit of a wry grin returned to her face, and she nodded at Maegor. "Of course, it also didn't help that you beat Ulf senseless in the training yard. Twas' about time for someone to shut that drunken shit's mouth up, I say."
Maegor smiled at Nettles' statement, and inclined his head at her in acknowledgement of her praise. "When you put it all that way, I suppose it makes more sense." Maegor frowned as he considered his situation. Ulf the White seemed to be out for his blood, and the only thing that Maegor could do was watch out for any other catspaws that the seed would send against him. For a brief moment, Maegor wondered whether he would be able to find someone to kill Ulf. As quickly as the thought came to him, however, Maegor forced it from his mind. He would not stoop to that hateful drunkard's level by sending assassins after him.
Gaemon began to speak suddenly, and both Nettles and Maegor turned to face him. "It seems that you're not the only person that Ulf has tried to have killed, Maegor." His friend continued as Maegor waited expectantly, and Nettles silently raised an eyebrow. "I had been wondering as to who had told the Queen about my claims of paternity. After I arrived at the castle on Cannibal, I spoke to no-one of who I believed my father to be. Yet somehow, someone who either had direct access to the Queen, or knew someone who did, let slip to her my claims of parentage." Maegor's friend frowned. "It now seems all too clear. What better way for the Sot to rid himself of a rival for the Queen's favor than to have the Queen herself execute him?"
Maegor, Nettles, and Gaemon stood in silence for several moments. It seemed that Ulf the White was actively trying to arrange for the downfall of both Maegor and Gaemon, but even they themselves had no way of knowing if that was the complete truth. "So what do we do now?" Maegor asked. No-one had an answer for him.
As he had stood deep in thought, the Great Hall had become filled with people. Gaemon, Nettles, and Addam Velaryon had joined the line of seeds beside the Iron Throne, and the massive doors at the end of the Great Hall were shut a few moments before the Queen and her husband appeared from the small door behind the throne. The Queen gave a brief nod of acknowledgement to her assembled dragonriders, before she climbed the steps of the Iron Throne and sat at its top. Her Prince-consort Daemon took his place on the first few steps of the Iron Throne.
At a nod from the Queen, her herald announced that the day's court was in session, and the Gold Cloaks stationed throughout the Great Hall beat the butts of their spears on the floor to draw the room to silence. The large doors of the hall were then opened, and a procession of prisoners were led into the room by Gold Cloaks and the new white cloaks that had been appointed by Ser Lorent Marbrand. Out of the six new members of the Queensguard, Maegor recognized only the face of Ser Harrold Darke.
At the head of the group of prisoners was the Dowager Queen Alicent Hightower, shuffling while fettered at wrist and ankle with golden chains. Behind her came the Princess Helaena. Though the woman had not been confined to the Black Cells like her mother or grandfather, she had the look of someone who had been in the confines of a dungeon cell. Her silver hair was matted and stringy, and her clothes were covered in grime and several stains. Her violet eyes darted in many different directions as she muttered indistinctly. Maegor had not learned of the murder of Princess Helaena's eldest son, the Prince Jaehaerys, until after he had arrived at the city. He was shocked and horrified to learn of the brutal and merciless killing carried out on behalf of the Queen, under the auspices of the side that Maegor fought for.
Maegor had been devastated by the loss of his father and brothers, but he at least had been given the mercy of not having to watch them die. Princess Helaena had been forced to watch as her eldest son, a boy of six, was beheaded before her own eyes. I'm sorry Princess, were the words that Maegor wished he could say to the Princess Helaena. However, he knew that such woefully inadequate sentiments of sympathy from a fisherman's boy would likely mean little and less to her.
Following the Princess Helaena was her grandfather and father to the Queen Dowager, Ser Otto Hightower. Behind him was Ser Tyland Lannister, and then Lord Jasper Wylde. Behind them came two noblemen, one with a doublet bearing three red chevrons on ermine, and the other wearing a green doublet with a white lamb holding a golden goblet. It seemed to Maegor that these were the prisoners of note that Queen Rhaenyra wanted all in her court, including her dragonriders, to bear witness to the judgement of.
The Dowager Queen Alicent was the first to be brought before the Iron Throne and forced to her knees at the foot of its dais. Queen Rhaenyra looked down at her step-mother with scorn, but it was the Dowager Queen who opened her mouth first and began to speak.
"If you mean to order my death, Princess, make it quick. I do not care to hear you speak at length on whatever so-called 'righteous judgement' you have in store for me." The Dowager Queen turned her face up to glare at Queen Rhaenyra in defiance.
The Queen merely laughed bitterly at her step-mother from atop the Iron Throne. "A fate that a cruel and manipulative woman like you undoubtedly deserves, step-mother. However, I have decided to spare your life, for the sake of my father, who loved you once." Waving a hand dismissively, the Queen continued. "Return her to the Black Cells." The Dowager Queen was pulled to her feet, and gave Queen Rhaenyra one last cold glare before being escorted from the Great Hall.
The Queen regarded her half-sister the Princess Helaena with sympathy, and ordered that she be returned to her chambers in Maegor's Holdfast. "She has been punished enough," the Queen remarked sadly as the muttering and incoherent Princess was escorted gently from the Great Hall.
The Queen was not nearly as magnanimous with Ser Otto Hightower or Lord Jasper Wylde, giving cold and succinct orders for each man to be dragged out into the yard and beheaded as traitors to the Realm. Ser Otto merely bowed his head at the Queen's judgement, but raised it again and strode proudly from the Great Hall amongst the guards surrounding him to meet his death. Lord Jasper Wylde stood and addressed the Queen when he received his verdict, however. "I am no traitor, Princess. Everything that I have done as Master of Laws has been to uphold the established laws and precedents of the Realm. By every law in this land, a King's son comes before his daughter in matters of inheritance. I will die a loyal servant to the true ruler of this Realm, King Aegon, the second of his name!"
Queen Rhaenyra looked down at Lord Wylde in a cold fury. "A king's will is the law of his Realm, my Lord, and my father, the King Viserys, first of his name, made me his rightful heir. No amount of precedent can contradict that. Take this traitor from my sight, I wish to hear no more of his poisonous calumnies." With that, Lord Wylde was escorted from the Great Hall, still protesting the Queen's legitimacy as ruler.
Ser Tyland Lannister was spared the headsman's block, but it seemed to Maegor that death would have been a kinder fate for him. In the hopes that he might eventually be 'persuaded' to help recover some of the Crown's treasure, Ser Tyland was handed over to the Queen's torturers, and returned to the Black Cells.
The other two Lords that Maegor had seen earlier, now addressed as "the Lords Rosby and Stokeworth", were brought before the Iron Throne and forced to kneel. Both proclaimed their undying loyalty to the Queen, and assured her that they had only gone over to the usurper's side so that they could live to one day rejoin the true ruler of the Realm, the Queen herself.
The Queen listened to their pleas in stony silence, before giving her own cold answer. "My Lords, it seems to me that faithless friends are worse than foes. I will not suffer your presence at my side, and I will certainly not allow your treason to go unpunished. Lord Stokeworth, your family's words are 'Proud to be Faithful'. I never took you for a jester, but surely you must be, for you treat your family's words as nothing more than a jape."
Lord Stokeworth bowed his head in shame, and Lord Rosby's face went pale as the scowling Queen delivered her verdict. "I shall have you beheaded as traitors to the Realm. But first, I will have both of your lying tongues torn from your mouths. Guards, see that my orders are carried out. I should like to see both of their tongues before I retire this evening."
Lord Stokeworth allowed himself to be escorted quietly from the Great Hall, but Lord Rosby had to be dragged out, kicking and screaming the entire way. There were more prisoners to be judged, and Maegor knew that there would be many more heads adorning the spikes above the Red Keep's main gate before the day was done.
It felt good to finally be free of his armor. The Queen's judgement of her prisoners had dragged throughout the day into the late afternoon, and Maegor was overjoyed when he was finally given leave to return to the Dragonpit. With the help of a servant, he was able to undo the many clasps and cured leather straps that held the black steel plate in place. He had taken a few moments to simply lay back in his cot and stretch out his limbs, enjoying the lack of restriction in his movements. Hearing a knock at the door, Maegor sat up on his cot and faced the door of his chambers. "Come in," he called, and the door swung open to reveal Gaemon and Nettles.
The two seeds walked into his chambers, with Gaemon leaning against the wall near the doorframe, and Nettles sitting in a chair beside a small desk along the wall opposite Maegor's cot. Gaemon was the first to speak. "We plan to head out again tonight and enjoy the city's hospitality. We must needs remain alert for any more possible threats to the three of us, but I don't plan on letting fear rule over the things that I do or the places that I go."
Nettles nodded in agreement with Gaemon's statement, before cracking a crooked grin and offering her own opinion. "Besides, there's nothing like a good couple o' tankards of ale to help ya make an end to a day of executions!" Gaemon laughed, and Maegor couldn't help but grin at the girl's decidedly morbid sense of humor.
However, Maegor had plans of his own for the evening. "It'll have to just be the two of you tonight. I do not plan to stop at any taverns this evening." Maegor paused, before grinning slyly at the two seeds across from him. "I'm sure the two of you will drink more than enough to make up for my absence."
Nettles grinned back at Maegor, before standing and making her way to the door of his chamber. "Right ya are, Ser Maegor. I've sworn a solemn vow to scandalize as many knights and nobles as I can by getting piss drunk as often as possible." With that, she walked into the hall beyond.
Gaemon hesitated a moment, giving Maegor an inquisitive look, but eventually he shrugged and smiled. "Suit yourself, Maegor. Enjoy whatever plans for the night that you have." His expression turned more serious as he looked back at Maegor from the doorway of his chamber. "Just remember, going it alone means you'll need to pay extra attention to the people and places around you." Maegor nodded at his friend's sage advice, and once again found himself alone in his chambers.
The roughspun clothing he wore felt more natural to Maegor than any of the silks and soft wools that he had been provided by the Queen's tailors. Maegor found it amusing how much one's clothing could affect their appearance. Wearing roughspun, hardly any gave Maegor a second glance. Aside from his size, Maegor looked much like any of the other common folk walking the streets of the city of King's Landing. Put most Lords of this Realm in roughspun, and I'd wager that they'd look no different than any other commoner. If Maegor had the looks of Valyria, blending in would have been a much harder task.
Maegor had given one of the servants in the Dragonpit a silver stag to fetch him clothing that would allow him to blend in with the city's populace. Maegor knew that he was likely giving the servant much more than was necessary, but he saw no need to be stingy with his coin. Paying him so handsomely ensures that he will be very grateful to me. One never knew when a friend in the right place could make all the difference. Maegor wore leather boots that were scuffed and muddied, but were well-worn and comfortable to wear. His clothing did not itch too much, which was something that Maegor was grateful for. In trousers and a loose long-sleeved shirt dyed a light green, and a hood dyed a darker green, Maegor supposed he had the look of an apprentice to a craftsman of moderate means.
Maegor had taken one of the lesser oak and iron entrances out of the Dragonpit as he left, hoping that the people milling around at the top of the Hill of Rhaenys wouldn't notice him leaving the structure. The Gold Cloaks and Dragonkeepers assigned to the Dragonpit knew Maegor's face, so he had no fear of being refused entrance when he returned. His ploy had worked, and Maegor decided to descend down the western side of the Hill of Rhaenys.
As he reached the Street of Flour, Maegor breathed out a sigh of relief. Any fears that he'd had of being recognized as one of the Queen's dragonriders had dissipated by the time he was clear of the square at the top of the Hill of Rhaenys. Maegor had never considered how good it would feel to just be Maegor again, not Ser Maegor, or Maegor the Queen's Dragonrider. Wonderful scents filled his nose as he walked along the Street of Flour, wafting from the countless bakeries along its length. Many would be closing their doors before the sun finished setting in the evening sky. Stopping at a small stall in front of a bakery, he paid the woman behind it a copper for a small sweet tart.
As he turned to continue, a small scrawny girl called out to Maegor across the street. "Flowers for sale! The sweetest ones you'll ever smell!" Maegor crossed the street towards her, looking around with some concern. What is a girl her age doing out in the streets all alone? Back in the village he grew up in on Dragonstone, children around her age weren't allowed far from their mothers' apron strings.
Looking up at Maegor, the girl displayed a battered wicker basket that had several flowers and bulbs inside. "Would ya like one? They're only a copper each."
Maegor smiled kindly at her. "Of course." As he looked into the contents of the basket to pick a flower, Maegor asked the question that was still on his mind. "Girl, where are your parents? Surely they'll be worried about you if you haven't returned by nightfall."
The young girl merely shrugged her shoulders, before turning her face up to regard Maegor with a dirt-stained visage. "Oh no, master. They shan't be worried about me. Ever since my da marched up Duskendale way with the King and was killed, it's just been me and my ma. She's dreadful ill, so I must needs sell these flowers to pay the apothecary. He won't brew her a remedy to make her better until I've the coin to pay for it."
Maegor regarded her for a moment in stunned silence. He was at a loss for words. The girl merely looked at him inquisitively, seemingly confused as to why her tale had elicited such a reaction from him. "Do ya want a flower or not? I must needs go home to check on my ma."
Maegor nodded at the girl, and picked a slightly crumpled and shriveled rose, lifting it from the basket. He then handed the girl a silver stag. She looked at Maegor with wide eyes. "Are ya daft? I said they's was a copper!"
Maegor merely shook his head. "Take it. Go fetch that remedy for your mother from the apothecary." He was surprised when the small girl crossed her arms, curling her lip in annoyance.
"Listen here, master. I am no beggar. That rose isn't worth more than a copper, and no one in this city pays anyone anything unless they mean to get their coin's worth!" Maegor was stunned at the amount of fire that this small girl was now displaying.
He considered a moment, then took two more crumpled flowers from the girl's basket. "I have two friends that I know will appreciate the beauty of these flowers as much as I do. Surely three flowers of such quality are worth a silver stag?" He waited a moment as the girl pursed her lips in consideration, glaring at Maegor suspiciously.
She finally sighed and nodded in agreement, and held out a dirty palm to accept the silver stag from Maegor. "You're not from around here, are ya?" the girl asked, looking at Maegor with traces of confusion still plain on her face.
Maegor smiled down at her. "No I'm not. In fact, I haven't been in this city long at all. Now go, get that remedy for your mother." He turned to continue down the street, but turned once again to regard the girl when she called out to him.
"Wait!" the girl had a sheepish expression on her face. "I'm sorry for gettin' so angry when you offered to help me. It's just that no one has ever done anything like that before for me and my ma. Prithee, what is your name? I wish to tell my ma the name of the man that paid to make her better." She looked at Maegor expectantly.
Maegor thought for a moment. Should I lie to her? I did not wish to be discovered, but my name is uncommon amongst the smallfolk. Many commoners named their children for Kings, in the hopes that their children would one day do great deeds like their namesakes. There's a reason that most folk don't name their babes Maegor. No one wants their child to grow up to be a cruel tyrant. Maegor made his decision, and called back out to the girl. "My name is Maegor."
The girl looked surprised at his name, but smiled. "Well thankee, Maegor. I'm Rosey, like the flower. I must needs go find the apothecary now!" Still smiling, the girl turned and hurried away, clutching her basket of flowers.
Maegor turned and began to ascend the Hill of Rhaenys, back in the direction of the Dragonpit. He took a bite of the sweet tart that he still clutched in his hand. He thought about Rosey, and the father she had lost fighting beneath the usurper Aegon's banner. Please, let the Greens see sense, Maegor thought, we have more dragons and the Iron Throne. Let this war end before any more fathers are lost. Maegor had a feeling that his silent plea would only be answered with more Fire and Blood.