Flea Bottom had now suffered its second massacre. The Gold Cloaks, emboldened and unrestrained, stormed the alleys and torched every gang den they could find. Those smallfolk not tied to the gangs shuttered their doors and prayed the storm would pass them by, while the gangs themselves were cut down without quarter.
Maekar, standing over the ruin of one such hideout, turned to the men.
"Mount your horses," he commanded, his voice carrying over the crackle of flame.
"Drag these fools through the streets. Let all know who rules here."
The Gold Cloaks roared their approval. The ankles of the supposed leaders were tied to the backs of horses, who were then dragged through Flea Bottom's filth, their broken bodies paraded as a lesson to the rest.
Then came Ser Criston Cole, entering briskly, his presence as steady and severe as ever.
"My prince," he said, bowing his head slightly.
"The queen requests your presence. At once."
Maekar exhaled sharply, shaking his head. He had known word of this would reach her sooner or later. Turning to the Lord Commander, he spoke:
"I will return, Lord Commander. Duty calls."
"Of course, my prince," the man replied, giving him a respectful nod.
Soon after, Maekar and Ser Criston rode up toward the looming red walls of the keep. Before long, they were walking within Maegor's Holdfast, the silence of the corridors thick around them. As they approached the queen's chambers, Maekar glanced sideways at Cole.
"Anything I should know about?" he asked quietly.
Cole shook his head.
"The queen is angry. No one thought to tell her her son was out there… killing smallfolk."
Maekar gave him a flat, unbothered look.
"Gangs, not smallfolk, Cole."
"The queen's words, my prince," Cole answered evenly.
Maekar said nothing more as they reached the heavy wooden doors to the queen's chambers. He rapped his knuckles against the carved oak, and when permission came, he pushed them open. Ser Criston remained outside, standing sentinel.
Within, Queen Alicent sat in a high-backed chair, her profile turned toward the balcony. Beyond her lay the sprawl of King's Landing, smoke from Flea Bottom's fires still faint on the horizon. Beside her sat Otto Hightower.
At Maekar's entrance, Alicent turned her eyes upon him. She lifted a hand, graceful but firm, gesturing to the chair opposite.
Maekar obeyed in silence, lowering himself into the seat, his face unreadable.
"Mother, you called upon me. How may I be of service?"
Maekar asked evenly.
Alicent's gaze hardened.
"You can start by telling me what business you have in the slums—attacking, killing, burning."
Maekar inclined his head, reaching for the flagon before him. He tipped it, watching the dark liquid swirl, only to set it down again once he realized it was wine. Without pouring himself a cup, he nudged it toward his mother instead, a small gesture of supposed care.
Only then did he speak.
"I was fulfilling my duties as the Lord Commander's right hand. The rats of Flea Bottom thought it wise to kill Gold Cloaks. I merely… helped correct their thinking. Nothing more."
Alicent's lips tightened.
"I sent you there—reluctantly—believing you would assist with matters of order and administration, not slaughter."
Her voice rose a notch, sharp with reproach.
"And this has been happening for a week, yet I hear nothing until now? Why was I not told?"
Maekar inclined his head slowly.
"That was the original intent, Mother. But who could have predicted that the gangs themselves would be so foolish as to draw steel on the Watch? I had to adapt. As for not informing you…" He gave a small shrug.
"This past week has been… consumed with duties. I forgot. I assumed Grandsire would tell you."
At that, Alicent's gaze snapped toward Otto. Her green eyes narrowed, sharp as glass.
"Yes, Father. Why was I not told of my son's actions?"
Otto's composure flickered for the briefest heartbeat. His glance shifted to Maekar, then back to his daughter.
Maekar pressed the advantage, voice smooth as silk.
"I even sought his permission when we first struck back at the gangs. He approved it."
Otto's jaw tightened, and for once the mask of calm seemed to strain. He looked at Maekar with something close to irritation before addressing Alicent.
"Daughter… Maekar was never in any danger. Ser Criston was at his side, along with fifteen of our best men. I judged it… a valuable experience for him. A chance to understand the city he will one day help rule."
Alicent leaned back in her chair, her lips parting in disbelief as her gaze shifted between son and father. She could not believe that otto seemed so unbothered with placing her ten-and-three-nameday son at risk like that, and with Maekar going along with this.
Alicent's expression hardened for a moment, then softened into something nearer exasperation. Her eyes roamed the chamber as though the very walls tested her patience, until at last they settled sharply on her son's shoulder.
"And why," she said suddenly, voice clipped,
"are you not covering your wound, Maekar? It looks dreadful."
For the briefest moment Maekar's lip twitched, a trace of a smirk, which was quickly smothered.
'is it that time of the month?'
He thought but there was no sense in testing her temper further.
He bowed his head slightly, his voice even.
"Of course, Mother. I'll see it tended and covered."
Alicent's gaze lingered on him a moment longer, searching for defiance in his tone, before she turned back toward the balcony, dismissing him with the smallest flick of her fingers.
Maekar left his mother's chambers without another word, Otto falling into step beside him. The Hand had little desire to sit and suffer further complaining from his daughter. For a time they walked in silence through the torchlit corridors of Maegor's Holdfast, their boots echoing against the stone.
At last Otto spoke, his voice low and measured.
"You did well with the City Watch. order must be shown, and you did not flinch. But the parading of corpses through the streets…"
His gaze slid sideways to Maekar. "That was unnecessary."
Maekar's reply came without hesitation, calm but edged.
"A heat-of-the-moment decision. Besides—who in King's Landing would fault me for parading the bodies of thieves and rapists?"
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The next chapter will be a time skip, guys, so this chapter one was just preparation.