The heavy silence of Lyra's chambers enveloped them, broken only by the soft glow of a single lamp. Lyra stood before Maegor, her expression a mix of surprise and the quiet steel of a seasoned hunter. Maegor met her gaze, his purple eyes unwavering, the raw, primal drive of his Lineage Focus: Progeny Drive (Active) pushing him forward, intertwined with the cold calculation of Maegor the Cruel.
"Lyra," Maegor began, his voice low, resonating with a power that compelled attention, "you have proven your loyalty, your competence, your unwavering strength. I value these qualities above all else. My goal is to secure the Targaryen line, to ensure its proliferation and its strength, so it will never again be brought to the brink of extinction."
He stepped closer, his presence commanding. "I offered Daenerys the role of my Queen, to secure the main line. But my lineage requires more. It requires many children. Strong children, born of loyalty and capability. I need heirs, warriors, and thinkers, bred from bloodlines I can trust."
Lyra listened, her face impassive, her gaze direct. She knew what this conversation was leading to.
"I offer you this, Lyra," Maegor continued, his voice now a deep, compelling murmur, laced with Draconic Persuasion. "Become my mistress. Bear my children. Your sons will be strong, your daughters fierce, inheriting the best of both our bloodlines. They will be trained to serve House Targaryen, to be utterly loyal to the King on the Iron Throne, whether that be myself or my direct heir. They will be my enforcers, my loyal shadows, ensuring the strength of the dynasty."
He paused, then delivered the crucial distinction. "They will not take the Targaryen name. They will bear a new surname, one that speaks of their origin and their purpose. They will be known as Velysarion. It means 'Snow and North' in High Valyrian. It speaks of a ruler, of coldness, of unwavering resilience born from the harsh lands you hail from. It will be a name of respect, of quiet power, a line of loyal protectors."
Lyra's eyes flickered, taking in the full weight of his proposal. It was not a marriage, not a crown, but it was power. It was purpose. It was a secure future for her children, a noble legacy, and an undeniable closeness to the most formidable force she had ever encountered. And for a woman of the North, strength and purpose were paramount.
She looked into his eyes, seeing the undeniable force of will, the promise of a future she could never have dreamed of otherwise. "I accept, my lord," Lyra said, her voice quiet but firm. "I will bear your children. And they will be loyal to the Dragon, and to the Velysarion name."
Maegor's cold smile widened, a flicker of triumph in his eyes. The rest of the night was a blur of primal instinct and raw desire. He took Lyra with a ravenous hunger, a fierce, almost desperate act of procreation. He consumed her like a starving man, every touch, every thrust, a deliberate act of planting his seed, of forging the future of his lineage. There was no gentleness, only urgent, dominating possession, driven by the ancient hunger to multiply, to secure the line.
The months that followed settled into a rigorous routine. Maegor's days were a demanding blend of instruction, oversight, and strategic planning.
Every morning, Viserys would appear, pale and haggard, at the castle training grounds. Under Ser Barristan's unyielding gaze, he was put through grueling paces. He ran until his lungs burned, swung practice swords until his arms ached, and endured the harsh words and physical discomfort of a recruit, not a prince. Maegor watched, grimly satisfied, seeing the fat of arrogance slowly melt away, replaced by a lean, desperate resilience. In the evenings, Viserys would limp to Maegor's solar, where he would be subjected to hours of intense study: Targaryen history, Essosi politics, the intricacies of warfare and governance. Maegor relentlessly dissected the failures of past kings, forcing Viserys to recognize the folly that had led to their downfall. Viserys still trembled in Maegor's presence, but a flicker of understanding, perhaps even a nascent respect, had begun to replace the raw fear. He was not breaking, but hardening. He was also endlessly tending to his "weak" dragon egg, hoping for a miracle.
Maegor also dedicated significant time to overseeing the construction of the Dothraki housing. Under Khal Drogo's grimly determined leadership, the Dothraki, however reluctantly, began to adapt. Simple but sturdy mud-brick and timber houses rose around Myrosh, a sprawling, organic settlement taking shape. Maegor personally inspected the work, ensuring resources were managed and his new "subjects" understood the benefit of a stable home. He spent hours conversing with Drogo, subtly guiding him towards longer-term planning, discussing supply lines and the logistics of maintaining a permanent settlement.
The Castle Guard recruitment progressed swiftly. Ser Barristan, a demanding but brilliant trainer, drilled the hundred new recruits with relentless precision. Maegor often attended these sessions, his presence subtly inspiring both fear and intense focus. He watched Barristan mold the raw, local talent into a disciplined fighting force, worthy of the Targaryen sigil that now flew proudly from the keep.
And almost every night, Maegor found himself in Lyra's bedchambers. The fierce, primal connection deepened with each passing night, fueled by his unwavering focus on his lineage. He knew, with an instinct far deeper than mere lust, that he was planting the seeds of his dynasty.
Three months into this routine, a familiar chime resonated in Maegor's mind.
[ System Update: Family Lineage Activated! ]
[ Velysarion Line – Lyra is Pregnant (2 Months)! ]
Reward Granted:
3 Common Game of Chance Cards
A cold satisfaction settled over Maegor. He had succeeded. The Velysarion line had begun. He closed the System interface, the news already confirming what his instinct had told him.
He rose from his chair, a rare, genuine smile touching his lips. He walked directly to Lyra's bedchambers and knocked.
Lyra opened the door, her eyes still holding that familiar surprise, mixed with a quiet anticipation that had grown between them.
"Lyra," Maegor said, his voice softer than she had ever heard it, "I… I felt a stirring. A… a change in the air. Are you… are you with child?" He feigned a lack of direct knowledge, a slight softening of his usual directness.
Lyra's eyes widened, a blush rising to her cheeks. She looked down, then back up at him, a shy, almost overwhelmed nod. "Yes, my lord," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. "The herbalist in the town confirmed it two days ago. I am… two months gone."
Maegor's smile deepened. He reached out, taking her face gently in his hands. Then, in a rare display of affection, he leaned down and kissed her, a deep, possessive kiss that left no doubt of his satisfaction. "You have done well, Lyra," he murmured against her lips. "You have begun the Velysarion line. You have begun the future."
He left her then, already striding towards his solar, the newly acquired cards calling to him. This was a good day. The foundations were being laid.
Alone in his chambers, Maegor called forth the System and opened the three new Common Cards.
[ Game of Chance Result: Uncommon Item Acquired! ]
Reward: Intelligence Report (Myrosh Region) - Uncommon
Description: A detailed, up-to-date intelligence summary concerning local politics, resources, trade routes, and potential threats within and surrounding the Myrosh region. Highly useful for consolidation and expansion.
Maegor felt a prickle of genuine interest. An Uncommon card! And an Intelligence Report. This was far more valuable than a common weapon. This would be crucial for his next steps in Myrosh.
He tapped the second card.
[ Game of Chance Result: Common Item Acquired! ]
Reward: Common Ship (Myr Standard) - Common
Description: A typical merchant vessel from the Free City of Myr. Functional for trade, but not built for speed or combat.
Another ship. Not the Sea Serpent, but still useful. Perhaps for local trade and transport.
The third and final card.
[ Game of Chance Result: Uncommon Item Acquired! ]
Reward: Warhammer (Uncommon)
Description: A heavy, perfectly balanced warhammer, forged with exceptional skill. Its weight distribution makes it surprisingly swift for its size, capable of delivering crushing blows. Imbued with minor kinetic energy enhancement on impact.
A warhammer. An uncommon. A weapon of pure, brutal force, fitting for his lineage. Maegor picked up the newly materialized hammer, testing its weight. It hummed faintly with kinetic energy. This was a weapon for breaking, for shattering, for conquest.
He looked at his new acquisitions, the intelligence report, the second ship, the warhammer, and the knowledge of Lyra's pregnancy. The Myrosh stronghold was being built, his Royal Guard forged, Viserys slowly broken and rebuilt. The future, the grand tapestry of his ambition, was beginning to weave itself, thread by careful, brutal thread. He had secured his first step. Now, he would consolidate