game of thrones masterlist
**A/N: a long one, shout out to a random Jane Eyre edit that inspired this**
I had known Maekar Targaryen for nearly all my life.
My mother had come to the Red Keep as one of the queen's ladies, and I had been brought with her. I grew up in the same halls as the king's children, ate at tables beneath the same painted ceilings, and learned very young which corridors were safest when I wanted to avoid my mother's questions.
Maekar had been there through all of it.
When we were children, he was the one I followed through the gardens.
He was always getting into some sort of trouble, though he rarely looked as though he were enjoying himself. Even as a boy, Maekar carried himself with a seriousness that seemed too large for him. His brothers were always being praised for something. Baelor for his strength and gallantry, Aerys for his mind, Rhaegal for his joy, and Maekar...
Maekar seemed to think he had to earn his place every time he entered a room.
He was competitive, stubborn, and quick to take offense. If Baelor bested him at swordplay, he would spend the next morning training twice as hard. If a knight laughed at something he had said, Maekar would remember it for years.
He never had anything to prove to me.
I had never cared which prince he was supposed to become. I had known him before I understood what a prince was.
If Baelor asked me to come watch him practice, I would tell him I was busy because Maekar wanted to climb the old stone wall. If Aerys and Rhaegal offered to show me some new book they had acquired, I would promise to read it later because Maekar was waiting in the gardens.
Perhaps that was why, as we grew older, I became the one person he could be himself around.
He did not have to impress me. He did not have to be clever. He did not have to be brave. He simply had to be Maekar.
Our childhood games eventually became long walks.
Our arguments became debates over books.
The books themselves became something shared between us.
I would finish one and trade it with him. He would return it days later, usually with several passages marked and some infuriating comment written in the margin.
I would write beneath it.
He would return the book again.
Sometimes I would find him in the library afterward, sitting with one ankle resting over his knee, reading as though he had not been waiting for me.
He would look up. I would look at him.
Neither of us would say anything about the book. We did not need to.
As we grew older, there were other things.
At balls, I was often left standing along the wall.
The young lords rarely asked me to dance.
I told myself I did not mind but I did, of course I did.
Maekar never let me stew long in my shame. He would appear beside me after a few songs, dressed in black or deep red, his expression severe enough to frighten off anyone young maiden might have been considering approaching him.
He would hold out his hand.
It was never phrased as a question, but nor was it a command. I would look at his hand and then at him teasingly.
He would give me a flat look.
"You're very sure of yourself, Maekar.”
And I hated how much I liked hearing that.
The girls at court were often too afraid to approach him. Maekar was a prince, and he was not especially warm to those he did not know. He had a reputation for being difficult.
The young men who might have asked me to dance were, in turn, strangely reluctant. I never understood why.
Maekar did. He never said anything, Baelor has once caught him looking at some young lord who had been watching me across a ballroom. The poor man had quickly found somewhere else to look.
Nevertheless, he saved me from standing alone.
Sometimes we danced only once. Sometimes he came back three or four times. He would hear your laments about why no other young man asked you, once you said you must not be pretty enough. Maekar had scolded you then and said you were plenty pretty. You told him to shut up, and that of course he would say you were pretty for he could not afford to isolate the one person who could stand his presence. He had scoffed but did not take it personally, especially when you playfully slapped his shoulder.
He never seemed to mind the, what he called, arduous task of entertaining me. I learned the weight of his hand against mine. The quiet way he guided me through the turning figures. The way he would lean down slightly when I whispered something to him so no one else could hear, more often than not, a teasing gossipy comment about a guest that he would pretend to not find amusing.
Once, after too much wine, we had stood in a darkened corridor outside the feast hall.
I remember Maekar looking at me with a strange expression.
Close enough that I had thought, for one breathless moment, that he might kiss me.
He had looked at my mouth.
Then he had stepped back.
"You've had too much to drink,” he says as he clears his throat and stumbles back.
"So have you,” you remind him. Maekar nearly rolls his eyes, must everything be a challenge to you?
His jaw had tightened. Neither of us had moved for several heartbeats.
Then he had muttered that I should go to bed and walked me there himself.
The next morning, neither of us mentioned it.
We had always been good at that.
Leaving things unsaid. Letting moments disappear. Pretending that the way he looked at me across a room was nothing. Pretending that I did not sometimes catch him watching me. Pretending that his hand did not linger when he passed me a book. Or that mine didn’t when I passed another. Pretending that I did not wait for him to ask me to dance.
I never thought any of it could disappear.
Then the noble family from the Reach came to King's Landing.
They arrived on business, and with them came their daughter.
I noticed that first. I also noticed Maekar noticing her.
At first, I told myself it meant nothing.
Then I saw them together in the gardens, in the library, at breakfast, and walking beneath the covered galleries.
She seemed comfortable with him.
Maekar seemed comfortable with her.
I began noticing every little thing. The way he listened when she spoke. The way she smiled at him. The way he sometimes leaned closer so he could hear her.
I hated myself for watching them. I hated myself more because I could not stop.
I had no claim on him, that was the truth.
He had never promised himself to me and I had never asked him to.
We had never spoken of what existed between us.
So why did the thought of another woman having him make me feel ill?
Deep down, I hoped for her family’s business to conclude quickly and for them to leave so everything might go back to normal. It isn’t until I have tea with Jena that I come to realize it had gone a lot further than business.
We were walking together one afternoon when she said, quite casually, "I imagine they will make the announcement soon."
The expression on her face changed.
I could barely hear the rest of the conversation.
"I thought you knew, I figured Maekar would have told you."
"Why would Maekar tell me, he doesn’t owe me an explanation,” you shrug off, as casually as you can. Jena offers an apologetic smile, like she had just realized she opened a box better left unclosed.
"I only heard they were considering it. Nothing has been decided."
I even managed a little laugh.
"How lovely for him. I suppose he is at the age to be married, it was bound to happen eventually.”
Jena looked at me for a long moment.
I did not let her see what it had done to me.
I excused myself and walked away.
I made it to an empty passage before I stopped.
My hand went against the wall.
It was as though something had been torn from inside my chest.
I had always thought Maekar was mine. Not in a possessive way, but he had always been your friend.
He had always been there. He had always found me. He had always chosen me. At every ball, library, and feast.
When his brothers were busy with their own affairs, Maekar had come looking for me.
And I had always chosen him too.
I suddenly understood how foolish that had been.
He would marry someone else.
Someone else would sit beside him.
Someone else would read his books.
Someone else would hear his thoughts.
Someone else would know the small, quiet parts of him that he did not show the rest of the world.
That night, after the sun went down and the castle retired, I went to the gardens to think.
I sat beneath the trees, staring down at my hands, trying to convince myself that I was being ridiculous.
Footsteps approached, heavy and unhurried.
I closed my eyes. Maekar.
He stopped in front of me.
"I have been looking for you for days."
I said nothing and his expression hardened.
"You have been avoiding me,” he accuses.
"I have not,” you deny, for what else could you say?
There was irritation in his voice now. Not anger. Not quite.
He was worried, and the fact that I would not tell him why was beginning to grate on him.
"I have been busy,” you say simply.
"You walked away from me in the library."
"I had somewhere to be,” you tell him with a shrug. You force yourself to lift your head and look at him. You were not some injured damsel, and you shouldnt act that way.
"That is not a convincing answer."
Despite everything, I nearly smiled.
"I haven't been feeling well."
His expression immediately changed.
He stared at me for a long moment.
He sighed through his nose and sat beside me.
"What is wrong?" He asks once more, a patience he has granted no other.
"Because I mean it. I do not say things I do not mean, and I don’t appreciate the implication,” you answer, almost harshly. Maekar ignored your tone before sticking his tongue against his cheek, to stop himself from saying anything back. He had not come to fight with you.
"Baelor told me mother and father mean for me to marry.”
My fingers tightened around the bench.
"They are considering the young lady who came with her family, you know her.”
"I do not know what to think,” he says finally.
I forced myself to look at him.
"I have spoken with her a few times,” he admits, like it is some big secret, like he had broken some rule by doing so.
I looked down again. “Do you like her?"
He was silent for a long time. "I do not know."
Something inside me twisted.
He rubbed his thumb against the side of his hand, clearly uncomfortable with the subject.
"My mother seems to like her. My father thinks the match is sensible. Baelor agrees.”
"Then perhaps it is…a sensible match I mean,” you answer.
He looked at me. He wants to say something else, to let you know that it was not him calling all of this sensible. But then he wonders why he’s so desperate to defend himself to you. He waits too long to say anything as you stand after an awkward and tense silence.
"I should go. It is late and I have no chaperone. We can’t be caught alone together like this or people will talk,” you tell him as you stand abruptly and sweep up your things.
"But have barely spoken,” he says almost weakly, like he had expected more.
"You have been tired for days."
There was a flicker of annoyance in his face.
"Why are you doing this?"
For the next several days, I avoided him openly.
There was no point pretending otherwise.
If I saw him in a corridor, I turned away. If he entered a room, I found a reason to leave.
Sometimes he was alone. Sometimes he was with his brothers. Sometimes he was with her.
Every time, our eyes met first. Every time, he watched me leave. And every time, something in his expression grew harder.
He did not understand entirely. That was what made it worse. He was frustrated.
Maekar had never been a patient man. But being ignored by me seemed to be something he had no idea how to endure.
It was a small family affair.
Baelor and Jena were there, Aerys and Rhaegal, their wives, Maekar, and me.
Usually dinners like this were far less formal than court suppers. Baelor and Aerys argued over everything, playfully though. You were invited as Maekar had once complained he had no interest in playing seventh wheel, so Baelor told him to invite someone then. He had no one else but you.
Jena laughed at her husband.
Rhaegal had a habit of provoking Maekar simply because he enjoyed watching his younger brother's temper flare.
Normally, I would have enjoyed it.
Normally, I would have been talking too much, leaning toward Jena to whisper some observation, joining whatever argument had started at the other end of the table.
Tonight, I barely touched my food.
I kept my eyes fixed on my plate.
I could feel Maekar beside me.
I could feel him looking at me.
Eventually Baelor cleared his throat.
“I have heard the engagement talks have become more serious, Maekar. Have you out anymore thought into it?” Baelor asks.
I stared harder at my plate.
Jena immediately kicked him beneath the table.
"You could have asked him that privately."
Maekar gave his brother a flat look.
Maekar's expression darkened.
Aerys continued, amused, "Though perhaps we should ask y/n. They have been attached at the hip for years. She knows Maekar best."
Suddenly, everyone was looking at me.
I kept my eyes on my plate.
I could feel the heat rising into my face.
Jena's expression softened when she saw me.
Rhaegal leaned back in his chair.
"You have spoken with her, haven't you?"
His brows lifted. You shrugged, as if to say you didn’t know why.
"You are usually quite involved with all the families at court. You know everyone."
Usually I asked questions, remembered names, made conversation, inserted myself into every corner of court life.
Tonight I could barely lift my head.
"I have been making arrangements of my own."
Maekar finally looked at me properly.
"I will be returning home."
"You have not told me that."
The words were sharper than they needed to be.
"Has your father recalled you?"
"Then why are you leaving?"
He stared at me as though I had said something absurd.
Something in me snapped. I lifted my eyes. You scoff and throw your arms up incredulously.
"Because I cannot stay here forever."
My voice was firmer than I intended.
"I cannot spend the rest of my life hovering around court, being everyone's companion, asking questions and knowing everyone's business while I stand on the sidelines,” you answer, glancing pointedly at Aerys and Rhaegal, not appreciating the implication that you were an unwanted child meddling in everyone’s business. They didn’t mean it that way, you knew, but you were already upset and that is how you heard it.
Maekar's expression changed.
"I should have gone home long ago,” you mutter under your breath.
The table had gone painfully quiet.
Even Baelor seemed to regret asking.
"I am sorry for ruining dinner, your graces,” you apologize. Baelor winces at your use of honourifics, you hadn’t used them since you were a child.
I glanced around the table without meeting anyone's eyes.
"I am tired. Forgive me."
For a few moments, Maekar remained where he was.
He stared at my empty chair.
Then he looked at Baelor.
His expression plainly asked, What in the Seven Hells is wrong with her?
Baelor only tilted his head toward the door.
Then he made a small motion with his hand.
Baelor raised his eyebrows.
Maekar swore under his breath and stood.
I was already halfway down the corridor.
I heard his footsteps quicken.
He caught up and seized my arm, not hard, but enough to make me halt.
"I would not take this insolence from anyone else and you are testing my patience.”
His voice was low and his jaw was tight.
I looked at his hand on my arm.
He dragged a hand over his face.
"You have been avoiding me for days, and now you are leaving without telling me why."
"It is the only one I have."
He stepped in front of me.
His expression was severe, but beneath it was something I knew well.
He hated that I was upset.
He hated even more that he did not understand why.
The word was so unlike him that I looked up.
Maekar seemed irritated with himself for having said it.
"Just tell me what I have done."
He gestured sharply between us.
"That. You have not said more than two words to me for days."
"You have never had nothing to say to me."
His voice had become strangely earnest.
"You talk enough for both of us. You always have,” he tried to remind you. In fact, he felt quite strange speaking so much now. Whenever he did talk continuously, he was usually complaining about something or someone.
Despite my tears, my mouth almost curved.
His expression softened for half a heartbeat.
The tenderness of it nearly destroyed me.
He looked at me as though he had found something he had been searching for.
"I listen to you," he continued. "I humor you when you go on about some book or some ridiculous thing someone said at court. I let you drag me into places I do not want to be."
"You follow me,” you answer back, and you bite your tongue to prevent yourself from comparing him to a dog. You might have, if things were normal, but they weren’t.
He looked almost exasperated.
"You have always been the one who talks. I listen. That is how it works."
Then, quieter, "So speak."
Tears finally slipped down my cheeks and I wiped them away quickly, angry with myself.
His expression tightened.
"Because I am embarrassed."
I shook my head and I wiped another tear away.
"You have played me for a fool,” you tell him, though your voice trembles as you do.
He went completely still.
Despite everything, a small, miserable laugh escaped me.
"I thought you liked me,” you lip quivers. Gods, you felt like a stupid little girl.
I wished I had not said it.
I could feel the tears coming harder now.
I wiped them away, but more followed.
"I thought all of it meant something,” you say pathetically. You felt pathetic admitting all this. “The books. The dances. The way you always came looking for me. The way you would sit beside me when you could have been anywhere else."
"I do like you, how couldn’t I?” Maekar asks.
"You are going to marry her."
"I have not agreed to that."
“But your mother and father have spoken to you about it and you have not rejected it,” you reason.
“They might be my mother and father, but they are also my king and queen. I have to do my…princely duty,” he answers.
“You don’t have to hate me, and you don’t have to leave,” he says.
“Why can’t I return home? My mother and father are surely preparing a match for me as well, I should go home and prepare,” you blurt.
He scoffs and runs a hand through his hair. It offends you instantly.
“What? Is it so hard to believe I might be married? That another man could stand the look of me?” You ask angrily.
“That is not how I meant it, you know that,” he defends himself. You do know, but your feelings are still hurt anyway.
"I do not hate you, Maekar,” you finally tell him after a moment.
He looked almost wounded.
It was so strange on his face that my heart hurt.
"I wish you well. I wish you every happiness with your betrothed,” you say quickly, and Maekar is not entirely convinced you do. You turn and stare at the wall as you say it, separating yourself from him.
He stared at you, trying to think of something to say. He should demand that you look at him, but he decided against it.
“May I be excused, your grace?” You ask. He does not excuse you. His mouth opens and closes.
You turn to leave and he catches your wrist.
I stopped but did not turn around.
"You called me your prince."
"You have never called me that, not since we were children,” he recalls.
His voice had gone quiet.
He sounded angry again, but the anger was fraying at the edges.
I looked at him over my shoulder.
Hard and silent and terribly young all at once.
“You are the first thing I ever considered my own, not someone I had to share with anyone…we can still be friends. Can’t we still be friends?” He asks, the words coming out before he can stop them, as vulnerable as you’d ever seen him.
His hand was still around my wrist. His grip loosened.
I gently pulled my wrist from his hand. You sigh as you turn to face him.
"I don’t hate you, and I am not upset with you. But I can’t be your friend, Maekar, not anymore...I will be gone within the fortnight, and I shall never return to Kingslanding,” you tell him.
He grabs your arm before you can leave and forces you to look at him, his finger tilts your chin up to see if you are serious. You are.
You push his hand away from your chin and try to shove his hand off your arm, but he does not relent. He keeps a hold on you, not tight enough to bruise, but enough that you stop fighting him.
“I forbid it,” he says suddenly, the weight of his demand sits uncomfortably inside. He has never made any demands of you, it felt foreign in his mouth.
“You are not the King and I am no prisoner here. You cannot forbid me,” you remind him.
“I am asking you to stay. I cannot command you, fine, but I am asking you to stay,” he says shakily. You are so close you can see the pox marks on his cheeks. When he had fallen ill with the pox, you had spent many hours melting ice on his face to held with the itchiness. Clearly it had not helped.
“I will…I will go to my father tonight and ask him to cease all conversation about my engagement. I will tell him I want you instead, I will demand it. I will get Baelor to plead on my behalf. Stay,” he says desperately.
Tears prick your eyes as you shake your head.
“I don’t want you like this, Maekar,” you say, though it pains you to say it.
“I don’t want you to…you are panicked because I am leaving and making rash declarations. I wanted you to choose me and you didn’t. I will not be some second choice to you-“
“I am choosing you now,” he shakes his head. His hand comes up to cradle the back of your head, so you wouldn’t look away from him. He looks like he might kiss you, and for a split second, you consider letting him.
“Stop it! I don’t want you like this, Maekar, because I made ultimatums and because you are afraid to lose me. It bastardizes our friendship and everything we shared!” You tell him as you push him away. He takes a step back as you stumble back as well.
“I’m sorry,” you frown before picking up your skirts and running back to your room.
———————————————————————————
It is 3 days before your room opens again, and it is because Jena asks you to join her for tea.
You join her on a balcony above the courtyard.
“Maekar asked his King to stop the engagement. Baelor told me they had a terrible row about it,” Jena says once you sit.
“The engagement is ended, luckily on good terms. The other family was not insulted, talks fall through all the time, it happens,” Jena continues as she sips her tea.
You remain silent as you drink yours.
“Have you finished packing your things?” She asks gently.
“Not yet,” you answer back. She hums in acknowledgement.
“Maekar!” You hear Baelor yell from below. You and Jena both stand to peer over the balcony. Down below, the Princes are training. It seems Maekar has just struck a blow against Baelor.
Jena sucks in a breath beside you.
“Maekar has just been irate these last few days, since our dinner actually. I worry for my Baelor, I told him he should not fight with Maekar when he is like this but he insisted he would be fine,” Jena says.
“Maybe you could speak to him? I don’t know how you do it but you always make Maekar see sense somehow,” Jena suggests.
You sigh as you continue watching their sparring.
“Baelor is a perfectly fine warrior, and Maekar would never seriously hurt him. It is also not my job to temper his anger, not anymore,” you answer.
Baelor looks up to wave at Jena as they pause their sparring. Maekar looks up too, but you pull back and hide the second you make eye contact with him.
“Thank you for the tea, Lady Jena, but I should finish packing my things as you have reminded me. Good day,” you nod your head as you turn and leave.
It is later in the afternoon when you see anyone else again. Some of the maids and servants had come with crates for your things. You were stood in the center of the room, ordering things about and ensuring everything was put away.
“Are you really leaving?” Maekar asks as he leans against your doorway.
He orders the servants to leave and takes a step into your room.
“The engagement is no more, did you hear?” He asks.
“Yes, Jena told me over tea this morning,” you nod. You raise your head to look at him and your eyes connect.
He cursed under his breath before making his way over to you, in a few quick strides.
He takes your face into his hands, his forehead on yours, lips just barely touching yours.
“Stay,” he asks once more. In your head, you know this is more grace than he’s ever shown anyone. He had pushed down his pride to come to you again, to ask you to stay again.
“I can’t,” you whisper. His nose nudges yours.
“This is my choosing you. Please, stay here with me. I will spend the rest of my life choosing you, I will spend the rest of my life ensuring you won’t regret this. I am asking you to stay, not out of desperation, but because I want you. You are my best friend, the only reason I survived my family’s shadow, the only one I want a future with,” he pleads. He takes your hand and presses it to his face and leans into it.
Your lip quivers as you raise your other hand and stand on your tippy toes.
He leans in to kiss you and you lean in to kiss him. It is a bit awkward, neither if you really experienced in the fact. But when your lips touch, it feels natural. You are glad that your first kiss is with him, your closest friend. You lean into him and he pulls you close.
Butterflies erupt in your stomach and you squeak into the kiss when you feel his tongue on your lip. His hand raises a bit to your chin and pulls it down, opening your mouth so he can slip his tongue into your mouth. You wrack your brain for all the girlie conversations you had about kissing and try to remember what they told you to do. You kiss him back and shyly press yours against his.
When you feel a need for air, you pull back slightly. Maekar leans in and chases your lips but you press your fingers against his lips.
“Does this mean you’ll stay?” He asks as he pulls your hand back down.
“N-no, I still have to go,” you stutter out, still about dazed from the kiss.
“Why?” He asks sharply as he takes a step back.
“My mother and father are expecting me now, and it has been too long since I’ve been back,” you say quickly, hoping to relieve any fear he might feel.
“Oh…but you will come back?” He clarifies.
“Yes, if you want me to,” you nod.
“Of course I want you to,” he answers quickly, his body loosening as he returns back to you.
“Did you mean what you said before? About wanting me and proving to me you choose me? Because I don’t want to force you-“
“I meant it,” Maekar promised as he presses another quick kiss to your lips.
“I’ve always known, since we were kids. I just didn’t want to lose my friend,” he admits.
“We can still be friends, can’t we? Even though we kissed. I still want to tease you and put you in your place. If you were expecting me to turn into this…obedient wife you are sorely mistaken,” you warn him.
“I wouldn’t want that anyway, I like it when you’re a little mean anyway,” he teases, which earns him a slap on the arm.
“I like it when you’re jealous too-“
“Oh shut up, that was mortifying, truly. You will never speak of it again or else,” you warn as you shove him.
“As you wish,” he chuckles.
“You know what, I’ll give you something to be jealous of the next time there is some great ball being held-“
“All right, that’s enough out of you. You tease until you anger me-“
“It is improper of us to be here alone actually, you might take your leave now,” you joke.
Maekar calms with an amused sigh.
“I will ask my father to write an offer of marriage to yours. Is this agreeable to you?” He asks, a tad awkwardly.
