As Maekar walked toward the Red Keep, Aegon and Aemond hounded him with the same question.
"So where were you this entire time, Maekar?"
Aegon pressed curiously, while Aemond nodded, equally intent on the answer.
Maekar's reply was straightforward.
"My dragon seems to be in his rebellious stage. I took a lap around the Blackwater, but when I wanted to return, he refused and kept veering in different directions. It took me all this time to bring him back. Thankfully, he's settled now."
Aegon's shoulders sank, disappointment plain on his face. He had imagined his brother's absence meant some grand adventure or secret undertaking, not merely a struggle with a willful dragon.
Soon, they reached the keep's inner halls. There, one of the Kingsguard—Arryk or Erryk, Maekar could never quite tell which—stepped forward to bar his path.
"His Grace demands your presence, my prince."
Seeing their brother about to be summoned before their father, both Aegon and Aemond exchanged a glance and quickly dispersed, unwilling to share in whatever lecture or judgment awaited him. Maekar only inclined his head with a curt nod, falling into step beside the white knight, and followed without protest.
Maekar was brought swiftly before the Small Council chambers. The Kingsguard pushed open the tall doors, and there sat King Viserys at the head of the table, his advisors sitting along either side.
The sight gave Maekar pause. His father looked worse than he had only a few days prior—more hollow, more frail, as if each breath cost him dearly. Maekar bowed his head.
"Your Grace."
Viserys lifted a trembling hand, dismissing the formality with impatience.
"Enough of that. Where were you this entire time? I was near to sending ravens to every corner of the Seven Kingdoms had you tarried any longer."
Maekar straightened and answered.
"I apologize. The plan was for a brief flight over the surrounding lands. But Morghul was… dissatisfied. He refused to return, veering off in other directions. It took time to bring him under control. At last, he yielded—and so here I am."
An uneasy silence lingered in the chamber. From his place along the wall, the elder dragonkeeper studied Maekar closely. His sharp, weathered eyes narrowed in suspicion.
'Morghul—cruel and ferocious even among the dragons of House Targaryen—had always shown a strange docility in the prince's presence.'
To hear that the beast had suddenly turned disobedient rang false to the old keeper's instincts. Yet, with no proof and no ground to stand on, he held his tongue.
Viserys' harsh countenance softened as he leaned back in his chair.
"I see… I am glad you are safe. You must be tired and hungry besides. Have the servants draw you a bath and bring you food."
Maekar inclined his head in silence. The king, already weary from speaking, turned back to the councilors at his side, dismissing him without another glance. Taking the gesture as his leave, Maekar strode out of the chamber.
Not long after, he found himself submerged in steaming water, the stone tub deep enough to ease the ache from his body. A maid moved about him dutifully, scrubbing away the grime and sweat of days spent astride a dragon. When at last he felt clean, Maekar dismissed her with a curt order and let the silence of the chamber return.
He sank lower into the water, closing his eyes, letting his thoughts sharpen and circle.
'Soon, Breakbones and Criston will have a fight. Lyonel, already quaking from the whispers about Rhaenyra's children, will be forced to flee with his son. That will leave Viserys no choice but to bring back Otto. And that, in turn, will drive Rhaenyra—and more importantly, Daemon—out of the city and onto Dragonstone. Once they're gone, I can start amassing power here within the walls of King's Landing.'
The water rippled faintly as he exhaled, his plans taking root in the stillness.
Maekar, now dressed properly in the attire befitting a prince rather than a novice's plain garb, settled at his desk. A knock came at the door. Expecting a servant with food, he answered curtly,
"Come in."
The door creaked open, and to his surprise, it was Queen Alicent herself who entered, carrying a tray. His expression flickered—startled for a heartbeat—before dulling back to composure. She set the tray before him, then pulled a chair across the floor and sat opposite. Her gaze rested on him, calmer than it had been earlier in the day.
Maekar glanced at the roasted chicken, tore off a piece, and spoke between bites.
"You'll have to forgive Morghul, Mother. He's a rude boy, but he meant no harm."
Alicent inclined her head.
"At least I am glad you are safe. Aegon told me Morghul was the reason for your lateness."
Maekar gave a small nod, continuing his meal.
"Yes. I told Father the same. Dragons are moody, clever things. No matter what I did, he refused to return to the pit."
For a moment, silence stretched between them. Then Alicent's voice softened, but her words struck keen.
"You expect me to believe that? I know my sons well. You were always the silent one, Maekar—but that does not mean your head is empty. I know much turns in there, more than you let on. Why not share it with me?"
Her eyes lingered on him—searching, imploring—as if trying to pierce the armor he carried in his tone and in his bearing.
Maekar stopped eating and lifted his gaze to meet Alicent's. Silence stretched taut between them before he finally spoke, his voice even.
"This is the only truth I have, Mother. I have nothing more to share."
Alicent sighed softly, disappointment heavy in the sound. She reached across the desk, her hand settling over his, giving it a gentle squeeze.
"Well… Whenever you feel ready to share the burden you carry, I will always be here for you, Maekar. You know that, don't you?"
Her eyes searched his face, pleading for some glimmer of trust, some sign that her son's walls could be breached.
"Of course, Mother,"
Maekar replied, lowering his head back to his meal.
But Alicent saw nothing in his eyes—no warmth, no trust, only a closed door. Resigned, she rose from her chair, circled to his side, and pressed a kiss to his head. Without another word, she turned and slipped quietly from the room, leaving Maekar alone with his food and his thoughts.