Shall Wear No Crown: Pt. 1
The smell of paper lingered in the air. The fresh batch had just come in, ready for a quill. The scent cane paper was sweet but had a stagnant hint that was inherent to books. This was something that Aegon never tired of as the knowledge contained in the libraries were gold bound in leather. He felt ancient at this point in his life and the never-ending conflict was baring its ugly teeth at him. He stared at the document before him, wary of taking the next step. Was it for the best? Would his enemy see it as cowardice? Unfortunately, he no longer had the luxury of caring. Duty was calling him elsewhere and his achievements meant little in comparison. There was a knock at the door and he raised his eyes before speaking.
“Enter.” It was firm but not commanding. He was more careful how he spoke these days but it was difficult to lead and be soft spoken at the same time. The hinges groaned beneath the weight of the large oak door to his chamber.
“Your Grace, you asked to see me?” Dragonstone’s General stood in the doorway in the city’s finest armor. Nightfall hung firmly at his waist. Aegon was loath to admit that the blade had slain over sixty foes in battle, a number greater than even his own.
“I did,” said Aegon. He sighed briefly, lying the document down on the table before him. He rose from the chair and motioned for Maegor to come inside. “There are matters we need to discuss.”
Both men stood there. The armor made it too difficult for the General to sit and Aegon was obliged to be respectful to the young man. It was a sight to see how far the warrior had come, seemingly from nowhere to now lead Dragonstone in a role never anticipated by most before. Perhaps it was destiny to be where they were. Perhaps it was just the sentimental side of a man getting older.
“It took many years to bring you here, Maegor. Even after, we have traversed a difficult time together that has led you to standing here with me today.” His words felt like a bard’s collection of clichés. His eyes fell to the table as he decided carefully how to explain what followed.
“What is it, Your Gra—“, Maegor began.
“Don’t call me that…not here when it’s just you and me.” Aegon’s eyes rose with a furrowed brow to look at the young man. It was one thing for formalities to be used in front of the people of their realm but another for him to be addressed as just the King with their rapport.
“Apologies. It has been a difficult habit to break from day to day use outside. You can imagine finding out the truth and trying to adjust to that…” Maegor’s gaze was level but laden with sincerity. The elder nodded, knowing nothing could be more true.
“I understand,” he said, “but I need to speak more on the matters at hand; it’s your inheritance.”
The young man’s eyes widened at the words. Aegon was unsure if it was shock or excitement. Perhaps it was both but it mattered not. The King shuffled a few of the papers before pulling several sheets out of the mess, all bound together with a corner fold. He extended them to Maegor.
“I expect you to read over these contracts and return them to me signed.” A stare was exchanged before Aegon nodded with insistence. Maegor did not even look at the papers.
“You’re leaving? Does anyone know..? Where will you go??” They were three valid questions and there would be plenty more to be answered, but it would need to wait for a later time; the elder decided to entertain at least those three.
“I am obligated to answer a call of duty elsewhere, as we’ve discussed before. There are ravens being sent to everyone necessary but I am sure every town and alliance will know soon enough, enemy or no. As far as where I am going, that is for the Artifact to decide.”
He urged once more with the papers before they were finally taken. Maegor frowned as he glanced at the calligraphy, torn between accomplishment and disappointment. His free hand rested on Nightfall, steel imbued with diamond and blood. There was fire in his veins and conflict behind his eyes.
“Very well….I will return the documents per your request.” The formality had returned to his voice. Aegon hoped it was a defense mechanism but he could not blame him for resenting the change. Maegor turned and stepped out of the door while the King lowered himself back into the chair. He closed his eyes slowly and sighed once more, this time heavier and with more regret.
‘We’ve done this dance before, my love,’ he whispered to himself. ‘Pledging my sword to the Artifact will take me from his life again. Will he only resent me? Will he understand?’
He grasped the brazen charm hanging about his neck, the chain feeling heavier with each day. It had been ages since he had seen her, and every time he looked at the boy it reminded him of her and what he had lost.
‘He doesn’t even have my name because I wasn’t there. He’s been forced to live with the bastard name of Bowmen for so long...,’ another whisper escaped his lips, offered to nothing but a memory. His face was in his hands while as communed with the dead. He could almost see her face, causing feelings of both joy and misery. It was a life he’d treasured…a life that was ripped from his grasp. Now that he had a part of it back, it would be torn away by duty again.
Abruptly, he stood and gripped the table. The legs were swiftly raised from the ground, splinters scattering as the wood crashed into the stone wall. The room was left dimly lit as the two candles on the table were extinguished leaving only the sconces on the wall to fight the darkness.
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