"I wonder how long it will take for the court to notice the Master of Whispers missing," Basil said, a touch of amusement in his voice.
Maekar turned to glance at his right-hand man, his smile broadening. "Oh, I'd wager quite a while. Varys has been slipping away for weeks at a time. I doubt anyone will think much of it for at least a month or two."
Basil nodded, crossing his arms over his chest. "Especially in Prince Aegon's camp. Varys has been spending quite a bit of time with them recently."
Maekar laughed. "Not anymore. He's swimming with the fishes now."
Basil joined in his laughter, and Maekar turned his gaze to the window once again, where he could see the large procession approaching in the distance. A broad smile crossed his face. He could see a large part of it heading toward the Kingswood—where the tourney grounds had been set up—and another detachment veering off towards the Red Keep.
His family was here. He had missed them all: his uncles, his aunts, his cousins. There was an ache in his heart, though, knowing that Robb couldn't come—left behind in Winterfell as 'the Stark in Winterfell.' But seeing the rest of them made his heart lighter.
Ghost, who was lounging at his feet, suddenly became alert and began to get excited, looking at him expectantly.
'Can he sense his brothers and sisters?' Maekar wondered.
"Come, Basil. We must go greet our guests." Maekar turned with a flourish, his dark cloak flowing behind him as he stepped briskly out of the room, with Ser Oswell and Lyonel following closely.
As they descended the winding stairs and made their way to the courtyard, Maekar noticed Daenerys standing with her handmaidens and Brienne, waiting in the courtyard.
"Dany!" Maekar said, a bit surprised. "I didn't expect to see you here."
Daenerys raised an eyebrow, a slight smirk playing on her lips. "Am I not supposed to be here?" she asked, her voice carrying a teasing lilt.
Maekar quickly shook his head. "No, no, it's not that. It's just… well, you didn't tell me." He took a step closer, his voice lowering.
"I'm here to welcome the Warden of the North," Daenerys replied, her tone more serious now. Then, in a quieter voice, she added, "And the family of the man I love."
Daenerys' attention turned to Ghost, who had quickly left Maekar's side for hers.
"You seem excited," Daenerys said as she petted him.
Before Maekar could respond, the gates of the Red Keep swung open, creaking under their weight as the Stark procession entered.
Uncle Brandon led at the forefront, his posture straight and commanding, his eyes sharp and proud. Uncle Eddard rode beside him, his face calm and steady—as it always was. Uncle Benjen followed just behind them, his gaze scanning the courtyard with curiosity and some trepidation. Guards, wearing the direwolf sigil of House Stark, flanked them on both sides, with servants and other important members of the household following behind.
Behind them were two wheelhouses, draped in Stark colors. Maekar knew who was inside: Aunt Catelyn and Aunt Ashara, as well as his cousins Arya, Roddy, Cregan, Sansa, and little Sara.
'If only Robb were here too,' he thought as they drew closer.
The procession came to a stop, and Maekar felt his heart swell as he watched his uncles Brandon, Eddard, and Benjen dismount. With a smile, he moved forward to meet them, his own steps quickening until he was embracing his uncle Brandon.
"Did you grow a bit?" Brandon said, stepping back to look at him, his eyes assessing Maekar. "I think you're taller than me now."
Maekar laughed and smiled at his uncle. "Maybe just a little."
Brandon grinned, his eyes twinkling. Eddard stepped forward next, giving Maekar a warm nod before embracing him as well. "It's good to see you again, Maekar," Eddard said, his voice steady. Benjen joined, slapping Maekar's back playfully. "The capital's heat hasn't melted you, I see."
"Not yet, Uncle Ben," Maekar laughed.
Behind them, the wheelhouse opened, and his aunts and cousins began to disembark. Ghost suddenly darted past him, his large white form a blur as he rushed toward his siblings, who came bounding from behind the wheelhouse. They came together in a whirlwind of fur and joy—Ghost and his siblings nuzzling and licking at one another, tails wagging furiously.
Brandon's eyebrows shot up as he watched Ghost playfully bump into his littermates, who were considerably smaller than him. "Gods, look at the size of him," Brandon exclaimed. "That direwolf has grown twice as big as the others!"
Eddard and Benjen were equally surprised, staring at Ghost as he eagerly greeted his siblings.
The cousins were not far behind. Arya led the charge, running straight at Maekar and crashing into him with a tight hug. "I've missed you so much!" she exclaimed, her voice muffled against his chest.
Maekar smiled down at her, ruffling her hair. "I've missed you too, Arya."
"You've grown, cousin," he said to Cregan as he pulled him into a hug as well.
Cregan puffed his chest out slightly, clearly pleased with the compliment.
Sansa approached more slowly, ever the picture of grace. Her wide, curious eyes were fixed on the Red Keep as if trying to take in every detail. Maekar offered her a kind smile and greeted her with a bow, as was her way. "Lady Sansa," he teased.
"You have only grown more beautiful," he said.
Sansa gave a small, polite smile, clearly trying to remain composed. "Thank you, my prince."
"My prince?" Arya said, turning towards Sansa. "It's Maekar, Sansa," she said as if she was offended by Sansa's greeting.
Sansa looked affronted by Arya's words but did not say anything.
Behind the children came Aunt Catelyn and Ashara, holding little Sara and Roddy by the hand. The two women exchanged looks of fondness as they spotted Maekar. He moved forward to embrace them both briefly before leading them toward Daenerys.
"Allow me to introduce Princess Daenerys Targaryen," he said, his voice carrying a note of warmth.
Brandon stepped forward first, bowing as he took her hand with a charming smile. "Princess Daenerys, it's an honor to finally meet you. Maekar's been keeping you a secret from us."
Daenerys returned his smile, dipping her head. "Lord Stark, it's an honor to meet you as well. Your nephew has shared wonderful stories about you and your family."
Eddard and Benjen followed suit, each offering polite greetings with a bow. "Princess Daenerys," Eddard said, his tone respectful. "You honor us with your presence."
Benjen added his own greeting with a playful grin. "I hope Maekar hasn't been too much trouble."
Her gaze then shifted to Sansa and Arya. Sansa seemed entranced by Daenerys and dipped into a graceful curtsy. "Princess Daenerys," she said softly.
Arya, however, simply stared at Daenerys for a moment, wide-eyed and curious, before quickly bowing her head.
"Come, I am sure you are all tired from the long journey," Maekar said, leading them inside.
As they walked into the keep, Daenerys walked beside him. "I believe my cousins are quite taken with you," Maekar said, glancing at Daenerys.
She smiled at Sansa and Arya, who walked in front of them. "They're both lovely. I'm sure we'll have much to talk about."
=====
After they were all settled in the keep, Maekar took his uncles to his chambers.
Brandon took a sip of the wine and nodded appreciatively. "This is good wine," he remarked, his tone light, but there was an underlying seriousness to his expression.
Maekar allowed himself a small smile. "I imported it from Volantis," he said, swirling the wine in his own goblet.
Benjen leaned forward, his face set in a grim line. "We need to have a talk, nephew."
Maekar's gaze flicked to Brandon, who gave a subtle nod, confirming that they knew. They knew about his plans.
"My mind is set," Maekar said firmly, meeting Benjen's eyes. There was no room for doubt in his tone.
"Nephew, think about what you're doing," Eddard began, his voice steady, though laced with concern. "You're speaking of rebelling against your own blood. War is not a simple matter. It changes everything. It takes everything."
Benjen, sitting next to Eddard, added, "We've put the past behind us, and so have the rest of the kingdoms. Do not reignite the flames that have long since burned out."
Maekar laughed, though there was no humor in it. He shook his head. "No, Uncle. The past hasn't been forgotten. It's festering, like an infected wound, beneath the surface."
He set his goblet down, his face hardening. "Aegon's mind has been broken by Euron. He's not fit to rule, and if he ascends to the throne, he will be another Aerys—another mad king. My father is not long for this world, and even if he were, he has been a terrible ruler. The realm bleeds under his reign, and Aegon will only make it worse. His rule will shatter the Iron Throne's hold on the Seven Kingdoms."
Eddard and Benjen exchanged a glance, both trying to find the words to sway their nephew. "Aegon is still your brother," Benjen said quietly. "There must be another way."
But Maekar's resolve didn't waver. "There isn't. The realm is divided, the lines have been drawn. War is inevitable, whether we wish it or not. Better to act now than to wait for Aegon's madness to tear the kingdoms apart."
Eddard sighed, rubbing his temples. "I hope you know what you're doing, Maekar. I remember the last rebellion all too well. The cost, the lives lost. I don't want to see the realm plunged into that kind of chaos again."
Brandon, who had remained silent until now, finally spoke. "You may have doubts, Ned, and so might Benjen," he said, his voice low and steady. "But I'm with you, Maekar. I'm firmly on your side, and the North will follow."
"The realm is too divided now," Maekar continued, looking from Eddard to Benjen. "You may not like it, but this is the reality we face. War is coming, and it's coming sooner than you think."
Eddard sat back in his chair, his face somber. "Just... make sure you know what you're doing, Maekar."
Benjen remained quiet for a moment, then finally nodded. "If this is the path you've chosen, then I will support you."
Brandon stood, a look of determination on his face. "We will support our nephew," he declared. "We'll stand by you, Maekar. I admit, there are old wounds that have been reopened within me as well. Perhaps this will give me the closure I need."
Eddard and Benjen nodded, though with more reluctance than Brandon. Eddard gave Maekar a long, assessing look before speaking. "You will be a great king, Maekar."
Maekar smiled, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. "I plan to show it, Uncle. Not boast about it."
Brandon stepped forward, a grin playing at the corners of his mouth. "We brought you a gift," he said, gesturing toward Benjen, who had been holding back something wrapped in cloth.
Maekar's eyes widened as Benjen approached, revealing a long, slender sword wrapped carefully in a dark fabric.
"Is that...?" Maekar whispered, his voice barely audible as he stared at the sword in awe.
Benjen nodded, his grin widening as he unwrapped the cloth, revealing the dark, elegant blade. "Yes. The Lord Commander himself brought it to us—Dark Sister."
Maekar's heart skipped a beat. "Brynden," he muttered under his breath, a smile spreading across his face as he unsheathed the sword. The blade gleamed in the sunlight.
"Now I have three of them," Maekar said, still marveling at the legendary sword.
"Three?" all three of his uncles said at the same time, their confusion evident.
Maekar laughed, a genuine laugh that echoed through the room. For the first time in a long while, he felt the weight of the world lift—if only for a moment.
.
.
.
As the evening breeze swept through the gardens, Maekar stood waiting for Arianne. The fading light cast long shadows across the stone paths, and he found his mind wandering over the intricate web of alliances and plots that surrounded him.
Arianne had asked to meet him the previous day, after his unexpected encounter with Durran, Rhaenys, and her. Maekar wasn't sure what she wanted, but her request intrigued him. Dorne's loyalty to Aegon was a given, especially with Aegon being the son of Elia Martell.
From a distance, Maekar saw her approaching. She was dressed more conservatively than usual, her attire a stark contrast to the revealing outfits she was often seen in. She wore a deep burgundy gown with long sleeves, the fabric flowing around her as she moved with quiet grace. Her dark hair was tied back, emphasizing her high cheekbones and sharp features. Maekar raised an eyebrow in surprise. Her attire suggested a different, more serious intent.
As she neared him, Arianne greeted him with a soft smile. "Come, walk with me," she said, her voice low but commanding.
Maekar nodded, falling into step beside her. They walked in silence for a while, the sounds of the bustling Red Keep fading into the background as they ventured deeper into the gardens.
"I see that the Starks have arrived," Arianne remarked after a few moments. "You must be happy to have your family here."
"Yes," Maekar replied simply.
They walked further until they reached a secluded corner of the gardens, away from prying eyes. The air here was cooler, the scent of flowers hanging heavy around them.
"I won't keep you waiting any longer," Arianne said, stopping to face him. "I want to support your cause."
Maekar raised an eyebrow. "That's surprising, considering how close you are to Rhaenys."
Arianne's gaze hardened slightly. "I'm doing this for her sake as well. Rhaenys's plan is foolish. Weak. She would only lengthen the coming conflict."
Maekar studied her face, weighing her words. "Can you get me Dorne?"
Arianne shook her head. "No. My father and my uncle would never betray Aegon. But I can help you in other ways."
"Such as?"
Arianne took a step closer, her eyes locked onto his. "You need to expose Aegon's true nature. Show my father that Aegon cannot be controlled, that he is a danger to Dorne, to the realm. My father will never support you openly, but if you succeed, he may withdraw his support for Aegon, and Dorne will stay out of the conflict."
Maekar frowned. "And what of Rhaenys?"
"You need Rhaenys by your side," Arianne continued. "If you fight this war alone, Dorne will rally behind Aegon. But if Rhaenys stands with you, it complicates things. After you win, with Rhaenys by your side, Dorne will find it easier to accept you as their ruler."
Maekar sighed, frustration creeping into his voice. "I've been trying to bring Rhaenys to my side for months, Arianne. But your cousin—my sister—would rather do anything but that. She's stubborn, and she still holds out hope for something that doesn't exist."
Arianne smiled knowingly. "Tell me, Maekar… was it always your plan to marry Rhaenys? Where does Daenerys fit into this? Or are you truly foolish enough to do what you implied yesterday… and marry them both?"
Maekar remained silent, his face giving nothing away.
"Make your decision quickly, Prince Maekar," Arianne said, her voice taking on a more serious edge. She turned, her gown swirling around her as she moved to leave. "I hope you make a sane… and proper decision."
Maekar stood in the stillness of the garden, his mind racing with thoughts. He knew marrying both Rhaenys and Daenerys wouldn't be easy, even if he could manage it politically. The realm wouldn't openly challenge him—he had a dragon, and with that power came a certain invincibility. Even the Faith, led by a High Septon who was easily manipulated, would remain silent. But it wasn't the realm or the Faith that concerned him.
It was Daenerys. She would hate him for it, for marrying Rhaenys. And Rhaenys, already filled with mistrust and bitterness, would only grow more resentful. He knew this, yet the pull of power and his desire for conquest—both political and personal—overwhelmed any reason. His flaw, he realized bitterly, was his inability to control his desires. His lust for women, for power, for domination—those needs gnawed at him constantly, even when he believed himself in love with Daenerys.
He sighed, his thoughts clouded by frustration. He began to walk, leaving the seclusion of the garden. His boots crunched against the gravel path as he made his way back to the keep, but just as he turned a corner, something caught his eye.
Cersei.
She was walking toward him, flanked by Ser Gregor and her handmaidens. Maekar's heart quickened involuntarily, the surge of desire rising unbidden. There it was again—that pull. That insatiable need.
Their eyes met across the courtyard.
Cersei was dressed in a flowing green gown, the fabric clinging to her curves in all the right places. The neckline was low, exposing the smooth skin of her chest, her golden hair cascading down her shoulders like a waterfall of sunlight. Her lips were painted a deep red, a stark contrast to her pale skin, and her eyes—sharp and calculating—gleamed as she caught sight of him.
Ever since her arrival, they had danced around each other, exchanging glances, veiled flirtations. But now, Maekar felt it was time. Time to fulfill the promise he'd made to Joffrey, and to further his plans to bring the Lannisters into his fold. And perhaps, more selfishly, time to satisfy the craving that had been gnawing at him ever since his first encounter with Cersei.
With a smile, Maekar began walking toward her, his gaze locked on hers. His thoughts of Daenerys, of Rhaenys faded momentarily. Perhaps he could rein in these desires later in his life.
But not yet.