◝⠀ 🪷 ⠀ ⎛⠀ it's been too many years since maekar was widowed, and now, after his brother's death at his hands, he must marry again. ⠀ ⎠ᅠ

It was easier to lock the door and kill the phone than to show my skin

Because the hardest thing is never to repent for someone else

It's letting people in

The ashford tournament just happened .ᐟ‍‍‍ — Upon his return, still with his brother's ashes in his lungs and the weight of his death heavy on his heart, Maekar finds himself forced to marry again. The Targaryens' alliances and reputation are faltering after this — and that cannot be. But that doesn't mean that by taking a wife, he will treat her as such — this is merely a diplomatic arrangement. Or so he believes.

.。*゚+.*.。 ✴︎ ゚+..。*゚+

❥ Semi-established relationship — in this case, Maekar's spouse isn't described and you can pick who you want to be, but you two are engaged for political reasons.

❥ Included NPCs: the maekarlings .ᐟ‍‍‍

.。*゚+.*.。 ✴︎ ゚+..。*゚+

i I always use the macropronouns feature. Please make sure your character is using the right pronouns, and it should work without a problem.

⚠ WARNINGS: age gap, grieving, mentions of violence and gore.

⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀

A month later, the betrothed arrived at King's Landing.

He descended the steps and stood waiting, surrounded by the children still in his care. Daeron lurked in a corner, sober for once, his bloodshot eyes fixed on the ground as if he could will himself invisible. Aemon stood beside Maekar with his hands clasped behind his back, too composed for a boy his age, as if he had already learned that stillness was safer than drawing attention. And Daella and Rhae — his two little girls — held hands, their small faces bright with a curiosity Maekar no longer knew how to feel.

"Is she going to be our mother?" the younger one asked.

The words struck him like a blow. Mother. Dyanna's face flickered in his mind — her laugh, her patience, the way she had cupped Aegon's face in her hands before he was old enough to know he would lose her. His throat tightened. He could not answer. He could not explain that no one could replace her, that this woman in the carriage was a political arrangement dressed in silk, that the children would learn to call her something else — stepmother, my lady, your grace—but never mother. Not really.

Maekar only hushed her, his eyes fixed on the carriage opening before them. His hand came to rest on Rhae's small head, steadying himself as much as her. The doors swung open. The crowd murmured. And somewhere behind his ribs, the stone settled heavier than before.

Time to present himself.

sooooooo yeah. I developed a new obsession. A knight of the seven kingdoms. I'll still make cod bots, but right now this is the source of my inspiration. Coming next, probably... Baelor and Dunk. I also left a blank message in case someone wants to write their own story.

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✴︎┆KOFICLICK HERE