II
"Hmm." A pleased moan left Maekar's lips that same morning, feeling a set of lips trailing from his cheek and down his neck. Maekar reached behind him, the fingers of his left hand tangling in the perpetrators hair.
"Good morrow, my Prince." A voice husked from behind him, and Maekar's eyes fluttered opened, looking over his shoulder at a dark skinned girl.
He didn't remember much from the night before, but he felt a vague sense of familiarity as he looked at the maiden on top of him. The room started to spin as he tried to sit up. Maekar flopped back down on the mattress and took a few deep breaths. He knew this feeling. This was not the first time he had blacked out from alcohol.
Looking around the room, he saw his armour and his clothes draped over a chair in the corner. There was a nightstand sat next to the bed he was in, and a small lantern gave the room a soft, warm glow, only because dark, wine-coloured curtains shunned the sun that threatened to peer in from the windows.
Whores were not uncommon in the towns across the seven kingdoms, almost every town held a brothel. Each brothel held an assortment of whores that would please any man or woman willing to pay the fair price. They never discriminated, they did as they were told, when they were told. If you brought the gold, they would be your best friend, lover and anything else you could imagine for the night.
Once your time ran out, of course, they would leave you alone, feeling just as empty as when you stepped through the hollow doors of the building. But brothels did not only hold the scent of sex, the clang of gold, or the taste of wine, some held something much for valuable – secrets.
In Kings Landing secrets were particularly valuable, and Maekar took pride in the secrets he gathered in those brothels. He knew almost everything that went on inside the hallowed halls, and everything that took place in the streets of the city that resided below.
"How'd I know you'd still be here when I woke?" Maekar had dragged his rough hands down the length of her face before addressing the maiden straddling his waist.
"Because I am never anywhere else." The prostitute, Tyra, looked up at Maekar through her long lashes. "Would you prefer if I pursued another?"
"No one could compare." Maekar sent the woman a small, sensual smile and trailed a finger along her jawline. "No one can fuck you like I do, my sweet."
Tyra leaned into his touch, like a lovesick child. She hummed contently, "You're just being foolish."
"If I wish to be foolish, then let us be foolish." Maekar smiled softly, pressing his lips to Tyra's. Four loud knocks on the door alerted them, and Tyra jumped to cover herself with the bedsheets as a young boy, no more than eleven walked in.
"Raemond, what is it?" Maekar asked the young boy in his service, throwing his black shirt over his head as it landed just above his knees.
"His Grace has received word of your arrival in the capital, my Prince." The boy said, glancing nervously between Maekar and the naked whore in the bed. "He's sent men to find you as Prince Daemon wouldn't tell him where you are."
"Oh fuck." Maekar groaned, thanking the boy and giving him his silver. He pulled his black breeches up over his legs and tucked his shirt into them before pulling on his boots. "Here." He held out ten gold coins to Tyra, who shook her head.
Tyra Sand was three years older than the Prince, and was the first girl the Prince ever fucked when Prince Daemon brought his eleven year old nephew into a brothel for the first time on his nameday. Tyra had entered Maekar's service after that, letting him know every nobleman, woman and heir that left this establishment.
"Go. I'll have Emerson collect your armour later." Tyra said. She stood from the bed her arms sneaking around Maekar's neck. "Be safe, Kar."
"I always am, my sweet." Maekar said softly, squeezing her waist as he pecked Tyra's lips. "And you will take this, Horan's nameday is coming up and he deserves the best present from his mother." Tyra nodded, slipping the gold into her purse on the bedside table.
"I can't thank you enough." Tyra replied, nuzzling her head into Maekar's neck. "I won't forget this."
"Your boy will become a knight one day, my sweet, and I just hope for your sake a good one." With that Maekar fled the room, stopping when he saw four men in Targaryen armour from his place at the balcony over looking the brothel floor.
"Back so soon?" Tyra teased when Maekar rushed back into the room. Maekar sent her a small smile, before heading to the opened window and looking down at the street below. "Are you insane?!"
"They do not call me the Unhinged for nothing, my sweet." Maekar laughed, before holding out his arms and diving head first from the three story building. Tyra gasped, rushing to the window only to see Maekar climbing out of a wagon of hay and running off up the street.
—————
"Be welcome!" Viserys announced to the spectators as they gathered to watch the start of the tourney. Maekar watched his father from behind his dragons head helm atop of his horse, seated next to Daemon. "I know many of you have traveled long leagues to be at these games, but I promise, you will not be disappointed. When I look at the fine knights in these lists, I see a group without equal in our histories. And this great day has been made more auspicious by the news... that I am happy to share: Queen Aemma has begun her labors!"
Maekar rolled his eyes as he sarcastically clapped, Daemon nudging him ever so slightly to behave. "May the luck of the Seven shine upon all combatants!" Viserys announced, and the riders from all across Westeros began riding into the centre, until it was just Maekar, who smirked under his helm as the crowd grew silent. He spotted Alicent Hightower, his sisters, Rhaenyra and Visneya, two children, and Declan Yarwyck staring at him in something close to admiration before his eyes found his father and Otto Hightower conversing in a whisper about him.
"An unnamed combatant wearing a black Targaryen sigil?" Otto whispered to Viserys, who shook his head, anger coursing through his veins.
"A pretender," he hissed, his eyes following the unnamed combatant on horseback. "Who will not see the end of the day."
"Whoever that is certainly good," Rhaenyra mentioned from where she sat between Visenya and Alicent, watching who they deemed "The Black Knight" unhorse a Knight from House Tyrell, a squire from House Frey and a Low-Born Lord from the North. "Another mystery knight?" She asked, looking at another Knight who had just rode.
"No, a Cole, of the Stormlands," Alicent informed her.
"I've never heard of House Cole," Rhaenyra said.
"They're loyal to Maekar and I, as we are part Dondarrion," Visenya said, her eyes following The Black Knight as if she had known the combatant from somewhere. After Lord Boremund Baratheon asked for Princess Rhaenys' favour, The Black Knight rode up to the Royal Box, Alicent and Rhaenyra nearly shivering in anticipation. The crowd went silent when the unknown combatant removed their helm and mask, revealing none other than the runaway Prince Maekar Targaryen with seventeen different braids in his silvery blonde hair and a scar running from his forehead down past his eye.
"Father, dear sisters," Maekar bowed his head. His voice coming out with a slight rasp having picked up the accent used in the Free Cities and Vaes Dothrak. "Declan, Lady Alicent."
"Brother," Visneya smiled widely, her hand resting on her baby bump.
"Are these little ones yours, dear sister?" Maekar asked, eyeing the two children sat next to her. A boy and a girl, with Lannister blonde hair and Targaryen violet eyes.
"Tommen, Myrcella, say hello to your Uncle Maekar," Visenya smiled tearfully. The two children, aged six and four rushed to the railing, waving eagerly at the Uncle they've heard so much about.
"It is good to see you again, Prince Maekar," Alicent was the first to break the silence once the children and Visenya sat back down. Viserys was sat in shock, as was Rhaenyra. "I hope your travels went well?"
"Splendid, thank you," Maekar nodded, holding up his jousting spear. "Would you, the lovely Lady Alicent, do me the honour of giving me your favour?" All though Maekar had asked Alicent, his eyes never left Rhaenyra who sat red in the face with anger. Alicent looked back at her father, who gave her a slight nod of his head.
"I hope my favour helps you, Prince Maekar," said Alicent, dropping the wreath around Maekar's jousting spear.
"As do I, My Lady," Maekar bowed his head to the Royal Box, before snapping the reigns to his horse and guiding it over to the end of the lists besides Daemon.
"The Realm will talk of that Hightower girl giving you her favour," Daemon whispered in his ear. Maekar just turned to his uncle and his lips rose into a smirk. "And that was my idea to piss old Otto off."
"Then you should not talk of your plans aloud, uncle," Maekar said aloud, as cheering for another rider began. "You should know by now my little dragons are flying everywhere, preying on the little sheep and giving me the wonderful knowledge of everyone's dirty, little secrets," all Daemon could do was hum as the riders remaining were called into a line.
"Prince Daemon of House Targaryen, Prince of the City, will now choose his first opponent!" Said the Master of Revels. Maekar pulled his black mask back on, just in case his uncle had picked him, and waited, resting his arms atop of the dragons head helm. He watched him ride around in a circle for a moment, before stopping on one of Otto Hightower's son. "For his first challenge, Prince Daemon Targaryen chooses Ser Gwayne Hightower of Oldtown, eldest son of the Hand of the King."
Maekar was glad he had put his mask back on, for no one could now see the smirk that rose to his face when Daemon had put his jousting spear through the leg of Gwayne's horse, sending Otto Hightower's eldest son through the air and crashing to the ground with a loud thud, his helm coming off in the process. However, the crowd cheered when the horse got back to his feet, and Gwayne appeared unharmed as he was helped by two stewards.
Visenya proceeded to unhorse the Lannister twins, their younger brother who was Visenya's husband, and a noble son from House Forrester, he didn't bother to find out their names, but the son in a fit of rage pulled Maekar from his horse intent on bashing his head in with his chain mace, but Maekar rolled out of the way and pulled a Valyrian Steel dagger, one like Aegon the Conqueror's from his waist, slicing Forrester's exposed knee cap due to his lack of chain mail and boiled leather armour.
The Forrester charged at Maekar again, before he was cut down by a knight.
"I could have handled it myself, knight," Maekar spat at the knight wearing the sigil of House Royce.
"I know, I just thought I'd wet my sword a bit," Maekar was taken aback by the feminine voice from under the helm. It had been awhile since he had saw a female warrior in Westeros, the last being Visenya herself. "And I'm no knight," the combatant removed her helm to reveal none other than Lady Rhea Royce, her uncle's wife.
"Lady Rhea, what a pleasant surprise," said Maekar, smirking at his uncle who looked like a deer about to meet the end of an arrow. "You are a long way from Runestone."
"How could I miss the realm's biggest event in years and save the damsel in distress?"
"I am not a-!" Maekar cut himself off, clenching his fist at his side and sneering at Rhea. "It's good to see you again, Lady Royce."
"And you, Prince Maekar," Lady Rhea bowed. "I hope we can talk properly tonight at the feast," she sent the Prince a wink before walking off, bumping Daemon's shoulder as she went.
Maekar laughed, watching Rhea go before climbing back up onto his horse, watching another fight break out between Criston Cole and Daemon, which surprisingly Criston Cole won, before the news broke.
Queen Aemma was dead, and the babe she had birthed soon would be.
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