Aegon visits the King

"I see the Hero of Oldtown has found time to grace his father with his presence." Maegor said in greeting as Aegon was admitted, actually going through the trouble to stand and welcome his son properly.

"I did. Consider yourself lucky you were absent when I did." Maegor replied, taking a seat and motioning for his son to do the same. "Four dragons for my kingdom. Did you judge that a fair trade?"

To no surprise, he did not even mention the 2,000 slain.

"I do, though perhaps would be disinclined to were I not aware of those lost." he replied, with typical utilitarian reasoning. "Two belonged to the spawn of a traitor and one fell with a half-brother I will not mourn. Azuria was the only true loss."

"Aenar's children proved that they are their father's seed." Maegor asserted. "Though they seem to have lacked the good sense to die with their dragons."

"As for Aemon, why is it you think I should award a man for weakening our house through his own folly?" he inquired, though the question was rhetorical in his mind.

"As is expected from any man, woman, and child under our rule!" he replied with venom. "Should I award every peasant that risked his life with a fief for his service? No, it is the lot of those who do not wear the Crown to die for those who do."

"Aemon will have Oldtown, when he has proven himself worthy of the seat." he said with finality. "A new dragon and one more head upon a pike should see to that."

"Any of those who have not yet realized the war has been won." he replied, as if the answer were obvious. "Or lost in their case."

"There were enough witnesses to attest to the nature of his demise." Maegor said with satisfied smile, waving off the concern. "The prize is yours and none too soon. A wedding will cap this victory and ensure our dynasty continues."

Maegor's face was impassive in the face of the disappointing news, likely having expected such sentiment.

"Then who?" he inquired.

"I had hoped Lord Darklyn was mistaken." Maegor replied with a sigh, his tone maintaining the same even keel. "The progeny of a traitor does not make for a fitting consort to a king. Fuck them all you wish, for that is their lot in life, but love them not."

"Have you heard what became of my first dragon, son?" Maegor asked softly, seemingly ignoring the ultimatum his heir proposed for the moment.

"I was given an egg when I was little, the same as many young Targaryens. It hatched on my third nameday, her scales scarlet with wings of beaten gold." he said, with a fondness that was unnatural on his stoic features. "I named her Rhelys and we were inseparable. The bond with a dragon raised from an egg is different from one that has known a rider or the wild. There was love there...more than I've had for anything or anyone, before or since."

"Yet, when grandfather died, I knew what had to be done. He was a hard man, but he taught me what it means to be king...what makes a king. It is not the throne, not the blood, not the crown, and not Blackfyre; it is Balerion. Might gives all the rest meaning and the Black Dread is might incarnate." he continued, with conviction. "When he was found impaled on the throne, I knew Aenys would contest my claim. His resentment was no secret, but neither were the dismal chances of a fresh dragon triumphing over the Bronze Fury."

"I stole out that very night to the Dragonpits with Blackfyre in hand, grandfather's body not yet cold. My words were soft and familiar as Rhelys curled up to drift off to sleep, belly full from a feeding." his eyes met his heir's then. "I like to think there was no pain when I drove Blackfyre into her brain...no realization of the betrayal. The blade still warm from her blood and slick with gore, I made for Hugor's Sept without hesitation and bent the Black Dread to my will."

"That is what it is to be king, my son. You must be willing to sacrifice all that you hold dear upon the pyre of duty for the sake of your dynasty. Had I not, we would all be dead or hostage this day. I tell you all this so you know what I am willing to do, what I am willing to sacrifice, to ensure that when I go to my pyre it will be with confidence in my successor. You proved your potential at Oldtown but I am not one to make ultimatums of, boy."

"Your mistake was telling what it is you love. It is a weakness." his words turned cold as steel, countering with an ultimatum of his own. "You will choose one of your sisters to wed and publicly denounce the Seven or I will personally carve Elseyris' beating heart from her chest after having her raped in front of you by every knight in the realm."

"Lady Daenerys is no Targaryen, nor are Aenar's spawn as far as I am concerned." he replied, words calm and measured in contrast to his son's seething rage. "I had assumed the man with the cunning to slay the Dragonbane would have the wisdom to choose more suitably. You have a choice between two, more than I would have given you otherwise."

"Your beloved is my spoil, paid in blood, to do with as I please." he taunted. "From now on, your disappointments will be repaid in kind upon her hide. Speak such words to me again and I will have her tongue cut from her mouth. Look upon me in a manner I find displeasing and I will have her eyes plucked from her skull. Continue to worship the Seven and I will make her pray for death. Have I made myself clear?"