Being married was not easy for Maegor. As his half-sister, his bride was raised with him, albeit apart for most of their teen years until recently, when their betrothal was finally ended by the wedding day three moons ago.

Maegor had come to realize rather quickly, the young timid girl he had known in his youth had matured into a regal woman with duties and an honor to her family that would rival even his own devotion.

And with that came the knowledge one of the main duties she aimed to see through was the bearing of heirs. Maegor couldn't complain, wouldn't complain, about the frequency of which she came to him.

He'd never fully admit that he was just as eager as she was, but unlike her, he knew when he needed a break. So instead of taking their afternoon meal in the Keep, he took her into the city.

After a few hours, when the sun began to set, they found themselves strolling along he Blackwater leading them back to the carriage and awaiting guards.

It was then that she heard it. A quiet sniffling from down the alley drawing her attention and before Maegor could stop her, she was scurrying down the alley seeking out the source of the small cries.

Crouched behind a stack of crates was a small boy, no older than four or so, crying and gripping the tattered fabric of a dress bodice...a dress upon a very deceased woman.

Maegor had seen scenes like this before, plenty of times. A mother killed for one reason or another, robbery or worse, and her children left orphaned, but by the look on his sister-wife's face, he knew quickly she had never seen such a sight.