Chapter 23: The Dragon's Twilight and the Faith's Awakening
It was 37 AC. The reign of Aegon the Conqueror, the first king of all Westeros (save Dorne and the Leywin lands), came to a quiet end. Not in battle or in dragonfire, but in his bed on Dragonstone, surrounded by his family. The Conqueror was dead, and with his passing, an era drew to a close.
Arthur felt it, the subtle dimming of a powerful flame. Aegon, for all his mortal ambition and draconic might, had been a strong anchor for the nascent dynasty. His death marked a shift, a new chapter for the realm.
The Passing of Queens
Shortly after Aegon's passing, another of the original three dragonlords followed. Rhaenys Targaryen, the spirited and adventurous queen, who had cheated death in the Dornish sands thanks to Arthur's ancient favor, finally succumbed to the inevitable. She died peacefully in her sleep, having lived a long and eventful life, far beyond what her fate in Dorne would have allowed. Her passing, though of old age, was a poignant reminder of the limits even the most powerful magic could only extend, not eradicate.
"She lived a good life, Princess," Regis observed, his voice unusually soft, a rare moment of genuine sentiment as he watched the ethereal flicker of Rhaenys's life force depart this plane. "That coin really bought her some extra mileage."
"It did," I affirmed, my gaze distant. "And it allowed her to see her son grow, to witness the realm take shape. A life well-lived."
With Aegon and Rhaenys gone, the triumvirate of the Conquerors was broken. Only Visenya Targaryen, the stern, formidable warrior queen, remained of the original three. She stood as a solitary pillar, a living link to the raw power and ruthless determination that had forged the Iron Throne. Her presence alone continued to command respect, but the combined might and differing temperaments of the original trio were now a thing of the past. The Targaryen dynasty was left with just two of its initial architects: Visenya, and the new King, Aegon's elder son by Rhaenys, Aenys I.
The Faith Stirring and Schemes Afloat
Aenys I, crowned upon his father's death, was a stark contrast to the Conqueror. Where Aegon was pragmatic and iron-willed, Aenys was gentle, indecisive, and more inclined to revelry than rule. He was a man more suited to the tourney field than the Iron Throne, kind-hearted but ultimately weak.
This shift in leadership provided fertile ground for ambitious schemes and brewing discontent. The various Great Houses, many still harboring resentments from the Conquest, began to test the new King's authority. Whispers of succession, particularly concerning Aenys's perceived unsuitability and the increasing prominence of Visenya's young son, Maegor (born in 26 AC, and now a boy of 11, already showing a troubling, cruel streak), began to circulate in the courts and castles.
Most significantly, the Faith of the Seven began to stir. During Aegon's reign, the Conqueror had handled them with careful diplomacy, forging a fragile peace. But the Faith, with its zealous followers and powerful military orders (the Warrior's Sons and the Poor Fellows), viewed the Targaryen customs of incestuous marriage and polygamy as abominations against the gods. Aenys's perceived weakness was a beacon. They saw an opportunity to assert their own authority, to cleanse the realm of what they considered sin. Their sermons grew bolder, their demands louder, threatening the fragile stability of the nascent Targaryen rule.
From the Grand Castle of Leywin, we observed these mortal machinations. Reynold and Tesia, now approaching their late thirties, were keen students of the Westerosi political landscape. They understood the currents of ambition, the shifting loyalties, the dangers of a weak king and a rising religious power.
"The dragon's peace is beginning to fray, Father," Reynold commented, tracing lines on a map of Westeros. "The Faith is gaining power, and King Aenys… he lacks the steel of his father."
Tesia, with her dark blue hair and intuitive senses, nodded. "The people are looking for certainty, and the Faith offers it. But their certainty demands conformity, even from their king."
Sylvie, now a magnificent young dragon in her eighteenth year, often perched on the castle's highest spire, her shimmering scales a stark contrast to the grey skies. She would often sense the growing unease, the undercurrents of fear and resentment spreading across the land. They squabble over crumbs, Papa, she thought to me, her voice now deeper, more resonant. They don't see the true darkness.
I merely watched. The Faith's burgeoning power, the political maneuvering, the seeds of civil strife – these were the predictable cycles of mortal kingdoms. My pact with Aegon stood firm, my domain inviolable. The threat of the Great Other still loomed, a patient, colder danger than any squabble over a throne. My family was strong, my realm secure. We would be ready for the inevitable storm, whether it came from the north, or from within the very heart of the realm.