There are two kinds of constancy in love. One is due to the fact that we are continually finding new things to love in the person we love; the other is due to the fact that we make it a point of honour to be constant.
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A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms: Prince Maekar Targaryen x Lannister!Reader
summary: Nobody is particularly pleased when House Lannister announces your betrothal to Prince Maekar Targaryen.Not the court. Not the servants. Not Maekar's children. Certainly not Maekar himself. After years of earning a reputation as a spoiled, troublesome Lannister, you've finally decided to become someone better. Unfortunately, changing is difficult when nobody believes you've changed at all. Especially when the man you're supposed to marry seems determined to remember every version of you except the one standing in front of him.
word count: ~4k
chapter one , two
Tags/Warnings: Prince Maekar Targaryen/Reader, Lannister!Reader, arranged engagement, age gap, widower!Maekar Targaryen, father of six, Daeron Targaryen, Aerion Targaryen, Aemon Targaryen, Daella Targaryen, Rhae Targaryen, Aegon Targaryen, emotional angst, dark romance, slow burn, hurt reader, misunderstood reader, reputation issues, emotional neglect, grief, King's Landing politics, family expectations, redemption arc, emotional tension, sharp-tongued Maekar, difficult relationship, awkward engagement, reader trying her best, mutual loneliness, yearning, unresolved feelings, court gossip, nobility, possessive tendencies, stubborn characters, no comfort (for now), Ethel Cain vibes, Lana Del Rey vibes, melancholy, sad romance, heavy emotional tension
A/N: chapter one is mostly setup, political obligations, and two people who already dislike each other far more than they should 😭 reader's biggest problem isn't that people think she's difficult—it's that they're not entirely wrong. she's spent years giving everyone reasons to expect the worst from her. now that she's trying to change, nobody seems interested in noticing.least of all maekar.
The afternoon sunlight filtered through the stained-glass windows of Casterly Rock’s main sitting room, casting golden patterns across the marble floor. The distant sound of waves crashing against the cliffs drifted in through the open windows, accompanied by the faint scent of salt carried on the breeze. Heavy crimson curtains swayed lazily with each passing gust.
You sat in your favorite chair by the window, a book resting open in your lap. Yet your eyes had not lingered on a single word for quite some time.
Since morning, no fewer than ten people had passed through this room. And every single one of them had looked at you the same way.
Some smiled.Some avoided your gaze. Some looked as though they wanted to say something but lacked the courage to do so.You knew exactly why. News of the betrothal had traveled faster than any raven ever could. By now, half the Westerlands had likely heard the story.
The Lady of House Lannister was to marry Prince Maekar Targaryen.It was almost amusing. Because the last person to learn of it had been you. Footsteps echoed from the hallway outside before the heavy oak door swung open.
“I thought you’d still be asleep.” You looked up to find your father entering the room. Lord Lannister appeared as imposing as ever, draped in crimson and gold. His dark green eyes—identical to your own—studied you carefully.
“I’m not that lazy.”
“Are you sure?”
“At least not today.”
The answer drew a quiet laugh from him.You liked it when your father laughed.It made him seem more like a father than the Lord of Casterly Rock.
The rest of the realm saw him as a formidable man, one worthy of fear and respect. But to you, he was still the man who had let his daughter climb into his lap at ten years old, who had ordered an entire stable renovated because you cried when your favorite horse fell ill, and who had almost never told you no.
Almost.
You lowered your gaze to the book in your lap.
“What if I said I don’t want to marry?”
The room fell silent. The waves still crashed outside. The wind still drifted through the windows. Yet somehow, everything felt different. Your father walked toward the window and stared out across the blue sea below.
He did not answer immediately.That made it worse. Because you knew him. You knew he was choosing his words carefully. “Do you dislike Prince Maekar?”A soft laugh escaped you.
“I’ve never even met him.”
“Then it isn’t him you dislike.”
“Does that matter?”
Your father turned to face you. “To me, it does.” You pressed your lips together. That was the problem. He was too good a father. Too kind. He loved you too much. And because of that, you could never quite bring yourself to be angry with him.
“I just…” You sighed. “I don’t think I’m ready.”
“No one is ready for marriage.”
“What a comforting thing to say.”
This time, Lord Lannister smiled genuinely. Though it didn’t last long. “You know how important this is.” You did. Of course you did.You might have been spoiled. You might have been difficult.
You might have spent most of your life creating problems for everyone around you. But you were not foolish.You understood what an alliance between House Lannister and House Targaryen meant.You understood how much this marriage would alter the balance of power.You understood that sometimes duty weighed more heavily than desire.
Understanding it, however, did not make it easier to accept.
“If Mother were still here…” You stopped yourself.Your father’s expression softened.He stepped closer and gently brushed a hand over your hair, just as he had when you were a child.
“If your mother were still here, she would tell you the same thing.” His voice was so gentle. Gentle enough to make your nose sting.Annoying. You were far too old to cry over things like this.
“I don’t want to go to King’s Landing,” you murmured.
“I know.”
“I don’t want to get married.”
“I know that too.”
“I don’t want to be a queen.” That earned a laugh.
“Well, fortunately for you, you’re marrying a prince, not a king.” You immediately threw a cushion at him. And for the first time in days, the Lord of Casterly Rock laughed out loud. But when the laughter faded, both of you knew the truth. The orders had already been given.
The procession to King’s Landing was already being prepared. And in only a few days’ time, whether you wanted it or not. Your life was about to change forever.
Two months.
It did not sound particularly long when compared to those who had spent their entire lives in King’s Landing.But for you, it was long enough to miss home every single day. Long enough to remember exactly what the sea breeze at Casterly Rock smelled like.
And long enough to realize that you did not like it here in the slightest.The soft melody of a harp drifted through the great feast hall as nobles from every corner of the realm mingled in fine silks and velvet, wine goblets in hand. Laughter echoed beneath the high ceilings, blending with the music until the entire room felt alive.
A celebration for Prince Daeron’s nameday. You could no longer remember how old he was turning.
Nineteen.
Or twenty.
Perhaps one of the two. It hardly mattered. The guest of honor seemed far more interested in the wine pitcher before him than any of the festivities taking place in his name. You sat quietly at a table near the edge of the hall, idly tracing the rim of your goblet with your fingertips without any intention of drinking.
You should have been circulating. Smiling. Making conversation. Acting as befitted the future wife of Prince Maekar Targaryen. But you lacked the energy for any of it.
Not after today. The morning had begun with Princess Daella’s nurse reprimanding you about court etiquette. Then, at midday, you had answered Aerion far more sharply than you should have.After that, an elderly maester had spent fifteen minutes explaining why a prince’s future wife ought not wander the gardens alone.
And finally—Finally, Prince Maekar had summoned you to his solar. Again. You sighed quietly. Merely thinking about it was exhausting.
“You have to be more careful with your words.”
His cool voice echoed through your memory.
You could still picture him standing behind his desk, one hand resting upon a stack of documents, the other against the polished wood. Even while scolding someone, he somehow remained infuriatingly composed.
“I only answered what he said.”
“Aerion is a child.”
“He is only a few years younger than I am.”
“He is still my son.”Of course. That had been the true issue. His son. His daughter. His family. Everyone seemed to receive more patience from Maekar than you ever had. You had not said that aloud. You had already learned there was little point. Somehow, in the end, you always seemed to be the one at fault.You sighed again and glanced around the hall.
Baelor Targaryen stood nearby in conversation with several lords, calm and dignified as befitted the Hand of the King. People seemed to like him effortlessly. Unlike his father. Valarr stood beside his wife. Her name is Kiera
You liked Kiera.
In truth, she was one of the few people in King’s Landing who treated you like an actual person. Not a rumor. Not a problem. Not the spoiled daughter of House Lannister. Though you still could not remember what her maiden name had been.And every time you tried, you forgot it again.Kiera happened to glance your way.She smiled warmly and lifted her wine goblet in greeting.
You smiled back. A small smile. Perhaps the first of the day.It faded almost immediately when your eyes found someone else. Prince Maekar stood on the opposite side of the hall. Tall. Still. Entirely out of place at a celebration. He was speaking with the Hand of the King, wearing the same stern expression one might expect during a war council rather than his eldest son’s nameday feast.
Sometimes you wondered whether he had ever relaxed a day in his life. Or whether he had simply been born looking perpetually displeased. As if sensing your gaze, he looked up. Violet eyes met yours. You immediately looked away. There was no point staring.It usually ended with you being reprimanded somehow.
You lowered your gaze back to the table. Your fingers continued turning the goblet slowly.Around you were people.Laughter. Families. Yet somehow, in that moment, you felt utterly alone.
Two months. Two entire months. And sometimes you still felt like an uninvited guest in someone else’s home.
You lasted less than ten more minutes. The music, once tolerable, began to grate against your nerves. Laughter blended together until it became little more than noise, and the air inside the hall felt increasingly suffocating.Perhaps it was not the air at all. Perhaps it was you. You set your goblet down and rose quietly from your seat, intending to slip away unnoticed.
Unfortunately, in this court, someone always seemed to be watching. “Lady Lannister.” A young servant hurried toward you. You forced a polite smile.
“May I ask something of you?”
“Of course, my lady.”
“I would like to return to my chambers.”
The servant hesitated. “Now, my lady?” A faint laugh escaped you.
“That sounds terribly rude, doesn’t it?” He shook his head immediately. His expression answered for him anyway.
Absolutely Yes. It was rude. Especially for a prince’s betrothed. Especially at his son’s nameday feast. Especially while the celebration was still underway. But you were far too tired to care.
“I have a headache.”
A lie.The ache in your heart was far worse.The servant seemed uncertain how to respond before finally nodding. “I shall have someone—”
“Where are you going?” The familiar deep voice sounded behind you. You closed your eyes immediately. Of course. Naturally. Why would it ever be that easy? Turning around, you found Maekar standing there.You had no idea when he had approached.Only that his broad frame now blocked the nearest exit.The servant immediately lowered his head.
“My prince.” Maekar acknowledged him with a brief nod before looking back at you.
“I asked where you are going.”
You lifted your chin slightly.
“To my chambers.”
“The feast is not over.”
“I am aware.”
“Then you should remain.”
His tone was calm. Matter-of-fact. As though it were simple. As though this had not already been one of the worst days since your arrival in King’s Landing.The frustration you had spent all day suppressing began rising once again.
“I have a headache.”
“The maester can examine you.”
“I do not require a maester.”
“Then what do you require?” You laughed softly. A tired sound.
“Do you truly want an answer?”
Maekar frowned immediately. And that was enough. Enough to remind you of the morning.His solar. Those words.The punishment.The fact that he had forbidden you from walking in the eastern gardens for an entire week simply because you had gone there alone.
As though you were five years old. Not a grown woman.And the more you thought about it, the more it hurt. Especially his final remark.The one that still refused to leave your mind.
“If you intend to be my wife, then at least try to behave as you ought.” You had asked him then
“Like whom?” He had hesitated for only a fraction of a second before answering.
“As you should.” You never asked him what he meant. You did not need to. Everyone in the Red Keep could have guessed. His late wife. The woman who somehow remained perfect even in death. And no matter how hard you tried—
You would never be her.
“Lady Lannister.” Maekar’s voice pulled you from your thoughts. You realized you had fallen silent.
“I asked what is wrong.”
“Nothing.”
“You are angry.”
“I am not.”
“You are lying.” You pressed your lips together.
“And why does it matter?” His violet eyes narrowed slightly.
“Because it does.”
“How strange.” The words escaped before you could stop them.
“Because this morning you seemed not to care at all.” Maekar went still. Only briefly. But you saw it.Saw that he knew exactly what you meant.
“We already discussed that.”
“For you.”
“For you as well.”
“No.” The answer came too quickly. You drew a steadying breath. “No. Not for me.” Silence settled between you. Around you, music and laughter continued.Yet between the two of you, everything felt painfully still. “I am trying.” Your voice softened. “I try every day.”
Maekar looked at you. “I know.”
“No. You don’t.” Weeks of frustration finally surfaced. “If you knew, you wouldn’t treat me as though everything I do is wrong.”
“I never—”
“Really?” You laughed again. There was no humor in it. “Because I cannot remember a single time in these past two months that you have praised me for anything.” Maekar fell silent. And somehow that hurt more than an argument. Because you already knew the answer.
Never.
Not once.
“Maekar.” A new voice interrupted. Both of you turned.Baelor approached, calm as ever, though the look in his eyes suggested he understood far more than either of you would have liked. “I hope I am not interrupting.”
“No.” You and Maekar answered simultaneously. Baelor nearly smiled.
“Good.” He nodded. “Lord Baratheon is looking for you.” Maekar exhaled slowly. Clearly reluctant.Yet duty remained duty. As always.Baelor turned toward you, his expression softening at once. “And as for you…” You blinked.“If you are tired, then go and rest.”You hesitated.
“But—”
“I shall handle it.” His voice was gentle enough to make you feel guilty. He looked toward the servant. “Escort Lady Lannister back to her chambers.”
“At once, my lord.” Maekar seemed as though he might say something. In the end, he said nothing at all. He merely looked at you for a moment. Then turned away. And left with the Hand of the King. You remained standing there for several seconds, watching his retreating figure disappear into the crowd. Then you lowered your gaze. And finally allowed the servant to lead you from the feast. Tonight, you did not want to keep trying.
At least not tonight.
The servant escorted you out of the feast hall. The music gradually faded as the massive doors closed behind you, leaving only the quiet stillness of the long stone corridors of the Red Keep. The air outside was much cooler than inside. You drew in a deep breath, trying to ease the heaviness lodged in your chest.
It didn’t work.
“I’ll return on my own.” The servant hesitated.
“But the Hand instructed—”
“I’m not planning to flee the castle.” He lingered for a moment before bowing his head.
“Yes, my lady.” Once he was gone, the corridor belonged to you alone. You began walking slowly along the gallery. Torchlight flickered against dark red stone walls, while the distant sounds of celebration drifted faintly through the castle, as though the feast belonged to another world entirely.
Two months. Two full months in King’s Landing.And somehow, everything seemed to grow worse with each passing day. When you first arrived, you had thought perhaps it would not be so terrible. You only needed time. Time to adjust.Time to learn. Time to try. Everyone had said so. Even you had believed it. Now, you weren’t so sure anymore. You had tried to learn court etiquette.
Tried to memorize the names of lords and ladies. Tried to speak less. To be calmer. More patient More polite. You had tried not to answer back when people whispered. Tried not to care when they looked at you with the same old judgment in their eyes.Yet no matter what you did, everyone still seemed to see the same thing. The spoiled girl from Casterly Rock.Including Maekar.
You stopped walking.Your fingers tightened around the stone railing.It was frustrating. Because deep down, you didn’t hate him. If you hated him, this would all be much easier. Maekar was not cruel. That was the problem. He never shouted. Never insulted you. Never hurt you in ways anyone else could easily see.
Instead, he simply made you feel as though no matter how hard you tried, it would never be enough.
And somehow, that hurt even more.
“Lady Lannister.” A soft voice called from behind. You startled slightly before turning around. A young maid stood near the junction of the corridor.
“Is something wrong?”
“I saw you leave the feast.” The girl smiled nervously. “I thought perhaps you might need something.” You shook your head.
“No, thank you.” She nodded Yet remained where she stood. You studied her for a moment before asking, “Do I look that pitiful?” The maid’s eyes widened instantly.
“No, my lady!” A quiet laugh escaped you. The first genuine laugh all day.
“I’m joking.” The poor girl immediately turned red, making you feel almost guilty. “You should go back.” You offered her a small smile. “I’m heading to my chambers.” She curtsied quickly and hurried away. You watched her leave before sighing softly. Then you turned back toward the night sky above Blackwater Bay. There seemed to be more stars than usual tonight.
Back at Casterly Rock, you used to sneak up to the towers alone late at night Your mother had once told you that people thought more clearly when looking at the stars. You had been staring at them for several minutes now. And still understood nothing. You didn’t understand why you had to be here. You didn’t understand why it felt as though you were the only one trying.
And you certainly didn’t understand why Maekar’s words refused to leave your mind. “At the very least, you ought to conduct yourself more appropriately.” You closed your eyes. You knew he probably hadn’t meant to hurt you that deeply. But sometimes, the people capable of hurting us the most were the ones who never realized they were doing it at all.
The night breeze brushed gently across your face.And for the first time in hours, you felt truly exhausted. Too exhausted to be angry anymore.Even with yourself. When the servant returned with his report, Maekar was standing beside one of the long tables at the front of the feast hall.
Baelor was in conversation with Lord Strong regarding trade tariffs from the Riverlands, while Daeron—the guest of honor—was slouched in a chair nearby with what appeared to be his third or fourth pitcher of wine that evening. Maekar wasn’t entirely certain. Or did he particularly wish to count.
“My prince.” The servant bowed immediately upon approaching. Maekar glanced toward him.
“Well?”
“My lady has returned safely to her chambers.”The brief report earned a single nod.
“Is she in her room?”
“Yes, my prince.”
“Are her attendants with her?”
“Yes, my prince.”
“Good.” That was all. The servant bowed again and withdrew. As though nothing of importance had occurred. As though the exchange had been perfectly ordinary. Yet the moment the servant disappeared into the crowd, Baelor turned toward his younger brother with a familiar look.A look Maekar disliked immensely.
“What?” Baelor raised his wine goblet and took a sip.
“Nothing.”
“You’re about to say something.”
“Am I?”
“Yes.” Baelor laughed softly.
“I haven’t said anything yet.”
Maekar leveled a cold stare at him. It had little effect. Baelor had known him his entire life.“If I didn’t know you better,” the Hand remarked, “I might think you had sent someone to check on your betrothed.”
“I sent someone to ensure she reached her chambers.”
“The same thing.”
“It is not.”
“If you say so.” Maekar sighed. Then looked across the hall. Daeron was laughing loudly at some joke nobody else seemed to understand.His cheeks were flushed. His eyes unfocused. He was barely sitting upright.
“Have you seen him?” Maekar asked. Baelor followed his gaze and sighed as well.
“I have.”
“I’ve spoken to him.”
“So have I.”
“And?”
“And he’s Daeron.” Maekar rubbed the bridge of his nose. That answer explained everything far too well. Daeron was intelligent.Charming.Effortlessly likable. But he was still Daeron. No one could force him to do anything he did not wish to do.
“At least he hasn’t fallen into a fountain tonight.”Baelor observed. Maekar looked distinctly unimpressed.
“Should that reassure me?”
“Compared to last time?”
“I believe it should.” Maekar shook his head and took a sip of wine. Their discussion gradually shifted toward politics. When the servant returned with his report, Maekar was standing beside one of the long tables at the front of the feast hall.
Baelor was in conversation with Lord Strong regarding trade tariffs from the Riverlands, while Daeron—the guest of honor—was slouched in a chair nearby with what appeared to be his third or fourth pitcher of wine that evening.Maekar wasn’t entirely certain.or did he particularly wish to count.
“She stayed in her chambers all day.”
Maekar looked at him. “Who?” Baelor raised an eyebrow.Maekar sighed.
“You know who you mean.”
“Then stop.” The Hand shrugged.
“I simply thought you should know.” Maekar was silent for a moment.
“And?”
“And what?”
“What exactly do you want me to say?”
“Nothing.”Baelor’s tone remained calm.
“I merely noticed.” Maekar slowly rotated his goblet in his hand.He already knew.He had known since afternoon.
The servants had reported that she never left her chambers.Lunch had been delivered upstairs. So had supper.Even her handmaid had mentioned that she barely touched either meal.He knew all of it. And the fact that he knew irritated him more than it should. Because it meant he cared more than he tought to.
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When you do something out of duty is there any love in it? In duty there is no love. The structure of duty in which the human being is caught is destroying him. So long as you are compelled to do something because it is your duty you don’t love what you are doing. When there is love there is no duty and no responsibility. [...] Fear is not love, dependence is not love, jealousy is not love, possessiveness and domination are not love, responsibility and duty are not love, self-pity is not love, the agony of not being loved is not love, love is not the opposite of hate any more than humility is the opposite of vanity. So if you can eliminate all these, not by forcing them but by washing them away as the rain washes the dust of many days from a leaf, then perhaps you will come upon this strange flower which man always hungers after.
