The conversation was pleasant; Maekar was a social butterfly thanks to his Rank A Charisma. No matter the topic, he could always make things lighter and more enjoyable. Both Alysanne and Gael laughed at his words and jokes.
Every time Alysanne tried to steer the conversation toward Maekar’s father, the prince skillfully changed the subject while smiling at the Good Queen with a calm gaze. Alysanne, knowing she couldn’t help, stopped trying and continued to chat without the weight of other matters, just a conversation between grandmother and grandson.
"Mother, it’s getting late," Gael said softly in a sweet and gentle tone, noticing that hours had passed since the start of the conversation. Alysanne looked toward the window and couldn’t help but be surprised to see the sun high in the sky.
Afternoon was approaching, which meant she had spent two hours simply talking. The queen looked at Maekar with a touch of surprise and calmed herself. She had simply become too involved in the conversation to notice the passage of time.
"Maekar, after visiting your father, come to my chambers to keep me company for another enjoyable afternoon." Leaving those words, Alysanne walked away using her cane. Gael looked gently at Maekar and helped her mother walk.
"A great ally..." Maekar, who was determined to be king, couldn’t help but comment after having such a long conversation with Alysanne. The woman was practically a library with legs. Along with the prestige accumulated over decades, his grandmother was simply the perfect ally.
Although he loved Alysanne, it didn’t change the fact that she was an excellent ally for gaining other allies. Honestly, he hadn’t previously thought Alysanne could be his ally, as she was Jaehaerys’s wife, and despite the disagreements between the couple, they both loved each other deeply.
However, Alysanne’s arrival proved that things were not so simple; Maekar was not arrogant enough to think he could completely hide his ambitions, especially with only months to gain enough prestige to convince the Lords during the Great Council at Harrenhal the following year.
When he began to secure the submission and support of the lords, even a fool could see that he hoped to be king. Having someone like Alysanne could save him a lot of breath and noble parties, time he could use to gain even more prestige.
"However, it seems I have to talk to my father to get my grandmother’s support," Maekar murmured in a slightly helpless tone. If he wanted Alysanne’s support, he had to talk to his father; Alysanne’s last words were as much a test as they were a mother’s request.
Looking out the window, Maekar showed a calm expression and smiled. If Alysanne wanted him to see Baelon, he would see him. He truly wanted to see if the Spring Prince would dare try to ignore the source of his anger and act as if nothing had happened.
Entering the room, the first thing Maekar smelled was the scent of milk of the poppy in the air. He couldn’t help but think that the Maesters were truly a bunch of butchers. If milk of the poppy didn’t work, bloodletting would.
Maekar set those thoughts aside and looked at the bed, where a man could be seen lying under a red sheet with the House Targaryen crest.
He was tall, with broad shoulders, short silver-gold hair, and a pair of beautiful light purple eyes. It was Baelon Targaryen, the current Prince of Dragonstone, also known as The Brave and the Spring Prince.
Of course, his most important identity was that Baelon was Maekar’s father.
"You’re not as handsome as I expected." Maekar sat beside the bed and spoke in a calm tone, looking at the man who had ignored him his entire life.
Baelon looked at the tall young man beside his bed and said in a gentle, nostalgic tone, "Aemon was always the most handsome among us. He always caught the attention of all the ladies, even though he was married to Jocelyn, a perfect couple."
"Unfortunately, I never met my uncle or his wife," Maekar said in a truly sad tone. In this era, Aemon was considered the pinnacle of glory. Handsome, kind, courteous, intelligent, and a prodigy swordsman, the perfect prince whom Jaehaerys I Targaryen had trained to succeed him.
Unfortunately, a mere arrow ended the life of such an incredible man who could have taken House Targaryen to new heights. Jocelyn, one of the most beautiful women in the realm, was widowed and was still alive at this moment; she had thirty years of life left, as far as he knew, since the woman died in 129 AC.
"If he were alive, he probably would have stabbed me for abandoning you at Raventree, called me irresponsible, a scoundrel; Alyssa would have looked at me with disappointment and punched me in the face," Baelon said in a bitter and helpless tone.
Maekar’s expression didn’t change; he looked silently at the man, who was lost in nostalgia and bitterness.
"I never cared whether or not you were in my life," Maekar spoke in a calm tone; he was not desperate for affection, especially paternal. Whether in his past life or this one, he was not an orphan; he had an uncle who acted as a father in his life.
As for maternal love, Maekar had Cassandra, his mother in this world. Unfortunately, the world had taken that wonderful woman from him.
Looking into Baelon’s eyes, Maekar spoke in an even calmer tone, without any feeling of anger. "The one who taught me to ride was my uncle; the one who taught me to shave was my uncle; the one who taught me to court women was my uncle. Your absence was not truly felt; after all, he was my father in every sense."
A bitter laugh escaped Baelon’s lips; he had no way to refute his son’s words. He truly hadn’t done anything a father would do; beyond the blood ties linking them, there was absolutely nothing that would make him considered a father.
After a moment of silence, Baelon looked at Maekar with an apologetic gaze and asked in a hesitant tone, "How did she die."
However, before he could even finish his words, he saw his son’s calm eyes turn cold and indifferent. "You have no right to know." Just like his eyes, the words were cold and indifferent. They left no room for Baelon to ask anything.
Baelon opened his mouth, but his voice couldn’t come out; he closed his mouth and let out a sigh. He, who had always considered himself a dignified and honorable man, never thought he would be hated by his own son. He had to admit; it was a painful and bitter feeling.
Looking at the ceiling, Baelon murmured, "I’m sorry, I couldn’t look at Cassandra. Whenever I saw her, I felt I was betraying Alyssa. I always thought it was unfair that she went to see Balerion before me while I remained alive in this world full of beauty and pleasures."
From what Maekar knew, Balerion was the God of Death in Valyrian culture, so he understood Baelon’s analogy.
At the same time, Maekar saw how great Baelon’s feelings were for Alyssa—or rather, the feelings all members of House Targaryen had for their respective spouses. They loved with such intensity that it was hard for a normal person to even imagine what it was like to love someone so much.
"Maekar, I have no excuses, nor do I dare ask your forgiveness." Baelon looked at Maekar with a gentle and understanding gaze. "But let me make it up to you, even if it’s just to soothe a small part of the anger you feel for me."
Maekar looked at Baelon with a complex gaze but still spoke in a calm tone. "I think you have the wrong impression of something."
"I don’t hate you; I’m just angry that you didn’t visit my mother in her final moments." Maekar looked at Baelon and continued speaking in a calm tone. "So, whatever you do makes no sense, because I don’t feel any hatred for you."
Baelon’s eyes widened, and he looked at Maekar as if he were about to cry at any moment. At that moment, he truly felt unworthy of being Maekar’s father. Relief and deep regret bubbled in his chest, leaving him breathless for a time.
Maekar’s words continued to reverberate in his mind before a long sigh escaped his lips. "I don’t know whether to be happy or sad at your words," he said in a bitter tone full of complexity.
"But let me make it up to you; you can ask for anything." Baelon looked directly into Maekar’s eyes and spoke in a solemn tone. He adjusted himself in bed, despite the agonizing pain in his belly, and sat up.
Maekar looked at the man and did not hesitate to ask for what he wanted most.
"I want the throne."
A deafening silence hung in the air at his words.
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Read my other books:
House of The Dragon: The Pale Prince
Game Of Thrones: The God-Emperor of Planetos (500,000 words written).
Percy Jackson: Godwyn the Golden.
Game Of Thrones: The King’s Court Wizard