Maekar sat in his mother's chambers, one leg draped lazily over the other. His armor, light and black, bore streaks of crimson meant to evoke his dragon, Morghul. Beside him sat his grandsire, Otto Hightower, face as composed and unreadable as ever, as though nothing in the realm could slip beyond his grasp. Across from them, Queen Alicent reclined with a goblet of wine in hand—a habit she had acquired over the past year, one that seemed to soothe her nerves better than biting at her fingers ever had.
Off to the side, Aegon and Helaena sat together, though in truth they could not have been further apart. Aegon stared dully into his cup, his thoughts fogged with drink, while Helaena muttered softly to herself, lost in murmurs no one else could understand.
It had been a week since Maekar had been named Lord Commander, and in that time, he wasted no moment in stamping his authority upon the city. Almost a thousand gold cloaks had been summoned under his command, sweeping through the slums of King's Landing, with Flea Bottom at the heart of their raid. Such a force could not simply be pulled from the streets without risk, but Maekar's princly status—and the backing of his grandsire—gave him leave to draw upon men-at-arms from both House Targaryen and House Hightower.
Even some of the Reach lords, having arrived early for the coming wedding, lent their household guards to the prince's cause, eager to prove their loyalty. The sight of so many soldiers flooding into the alleys had shaken the city's criminal underbelly. Dozens of thieves, cutthroats, and worse were dragged from their holes. Many more were cowed into silence.
The gold cloaks had been eager enough, especially once Maekar told them he believed the poisoning of the former Lord Commander might be tied to the gangs. By the time the sweeps ended, the hundreds captured had dwindled to mere dozens, with 'accidental' deaths the gold cloaks had reported.
Alicent's gaze moved first to her son Maekar, then to her father. "I wish for this wedding to be a grand affair," she said, her tone steady but carrying a trace of longing. "The past years have been cruel to our family, filled with death and injuries." Her eyes lingered on the scar that marred Maekar's neck, exposed for all to see. She had urged him time and again to keep it hidden, saying it ruined the image of an untouchable prince. Maekar had always nodded politely, yet just as politely ignored her counsel.
She continued, her hand brushing the seven-pointed star that rested at her breast as though seeking comfort. "Perhaps this wedding will scatter the dark clouds that have hovered over our house and the realm. With the blessing of the gods, it may bring us peace."
Maekar, watching silently, thought to himself, 'You are marrying brother and sister. I doubt the Seven would smile upon that.'
Otto inclined his head, his face in its usual mask of calm authority. "Yes. There is no reason to skimp on this wedding. The coffers are full, and at last, we can spend on something worthwhile. I have already sent letters to every lord of the realm, and they should begin arriving soon."
Alicent's expression faltered with uncertainty as she asked, "Has an invitation been sent to Rhaenyra?"
Otto let out a long, weary breath. "The king himself penned the letters. He believes it has been too long since the family gathered, and sees this wedding as a chance to mend those ties."
A troubled look crossed Alicent's face. "Do you think she will come?"
Otto opened his mouth to respond, but Maekar spoke first. His voice was calm, but carried enough weight to silence the room.
"She will not." He let the words hang in the air before continuing, "She will not come because a union between Aegon and Helaena strengthens our claim. Once a son is born, our line will stand strong and pure—unlike the bastards she parades about as heirs. Her presence here would be nothing less than an admission of defeat."
Alicent's face tightened into a faint cringe, though her voice remained composed. "Might be for the best, then."
Maekar leaned forward slightly, his tone firm. "Since the lords will be arriving soon, we must present a strong image. As you know, I had the Gold Cloaks clean the streets thoroughly. There will be no trouble from the criminals."
Otto's expression shifted, the faintest flicker of displeasure passing over his features. "The way you went about it was wrong, Maekar. Butchering those you call criminals casts a shadow over us."
Maekar's lips curled in the ghost of a smile. "I did not know you had a weak stomach for criminals, grandsire. I attacked no innocent. Every man who fell was a known thief or gang member, each one well documented."
Otto inclined his head slowly. "I know that. Yet there is such a thing as process. Even a thief must be tried by the king or the lord above him, not cut down in the streets. Do not mistake my meaning—it is not my stomach that is weak, it is the picture you paint. Your cruelty risks souring the people against us."
Maekar shook his head, unbothered. "The smallfolk are many, and I know well that in the right circumstances, they can be a danger even to us. But there are two emotions that rule them above all else: love for their monarch, who feeds and protects them, and fear. As a family, we must inspire both. Compassion and care on one hand—but also a clear, red line that none dare cross, or they will face the consequences."
His voice trailed off into silence. For a moment, the room was filled only with the soft crackle of the hearth. Maekar's gaze shifted at last toward Helaena, who had been quiet all along, her eyes wandering upward toward the ceiling as if lost in a world of her own.
Slowly, Maekar spoke again. "Helaena will be that compassion. Her nature, her gender, her calm spirit—she has the image of a saint. Someone who loves the commons and feels for them."
Alicent and Otto exchanged uncertain looks.
"What do you mean, son?" Alicent asked.
Maekar met his mother's eyes calmly. "Helaena, as our future queen, will show this city that someone cares for them. She will be under my protection. With the Kingsguard and our men-at-arms at her side, she will help distribute food to the poorest quarters. She will hold smallfolk infants, laugh with their mothers, and comfort the sick."
Alicent's expression wavered; Otto grew thoughtful.
"Are you sure, Maekar?" Alicent pressed. "Is it safe for Helaena to go among those people? What if they hurt her?"
Maekar nodded. "This is the best time. The streets still bear the blood of those who crossed us. She will be surrounded by Gold Cloaks, Kingsguard, and Hightower men-at-arms. Helaena will build the image of a saint while I keep the image I already have—the Hollow Prince." He let the nickname hang a moment, then added, "I will be what happens when we are crossed."
Alicent recoiled. "No— that cannot be. I will not allow such baseless cruelty to follow you, Maekar."
His gaze locked on hers, steady and unflinching. "Mother… everyone must sacrifice for the benefit of the family. Nothing is gained without some loss. We must only ensure that what we lose is not greater than what we gain."
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