The year was now 41 AC, a year marked by shifts in power, quiet marriages, and the looming shadow of an uncertain future.
In the cold, crystalline halls of Winterhold, Alaric Stark finally stepped away from the active governance of his kingdom. Because of Hashirama Senju's sage body meant he barely looked a day older than he had twenty years prior, a new, philosophical caution had begun to weigh on his mind.
When Hashirama had died, his death was attributed to a mysterious "chakra illness," a consequence of the immense life force expended in his battles, particularly against Madara.
He formally abdicated the title of the Lord of Winterhold, placing the burden of leadership onto his son, Ares Nymeros.
Ares, now known as Ares Frost, had fully embraced his Northern destiny. Five years prior, he had married a capable and strong-willed Free Folk woman named Sakha, solidifying the bond between the new leadership and the people of the Winter Kingdom. Their three-year-old daughter, Anya Frost, represented the future—a blend of Dornish passion, Stark legacy, and Free Folk resilience.
Ares Frost immediately took over the complex logistics of the teleportation network, the supply chain, and the constant magical enhancement of the kingdom's infrastructure.
Alaric was free. He dedicated his newfound time to his true passion: creating new inventions, delving into the esoteric corners of magic theory, and charting potential new elemental disciplines.
His favorite moments, however, were spent with his granddaughter, Anya, watching her delight in the simplest projections of light and frost he conjured just for her.
In Dorne, the strategic alliance was further cemented. In the year 40 AC, the Crown Princess Nymeria Martell wed Arion Dayne, the Sword of the Morning's heir. This marriage strategically linked the power of Sunspear with the ancient loyalty and martial strength of House Dayne, a move that secured Nymeria's position against any internal dissent and presented a unified, formidable front to the outside world. The Dornish defense was now tighter than ever.
As the year drew to a close in 41 AC, the air above Blackwater Bay ripped with a sound that sent tremors through the stone of King's Landing—the mighty roar of a returning dragon.
Balerion the Black Dread was sighted, a colossal shadow against the winter sky, heading straight for the familiar perch of the Dragonpit.
In the Red Keep, panic mixed with frantic relief. People poured out of the halls. Some dashed toward the Dragonpit, hoping to catch a glimpse of the great dragon.
Others, recognizing the magnitude of the arrival, rushed to inform the royal family. Visenya Targaryen, the warrior Queen, was quickly sought out. Messengers raced to the chambers of the princes, Aenys and Maegor, who were in the midst of a strategy discussion.
The Targaryen family, followed by a frantic crowd of knights and courtiers, quickly made their way to the immense, echoing dome of the Dragonpit.
They found Balerion there, a mountain of black muscle and scale, steam rising from his nostrils. The air was thick with the smell of smoke and sulfur, and a strange, cold metallic scent.
But when they saw the dragon, they saw only one colossal, terrible beast. Balerion was without his rider.
A wave of dread washed over Visenya. She stared at the empty saddle, the straps hanging loose, and the raw truth of the sight struck her. Her immense strength of will cracked, and she covered her face, letting out a single, heart-wrenching sob for her King, her husband, Aegon the Conqueror.
The knights surrounding the princes immediately removed their helmets, their heads bowed in a collective gesture of respect and grief for their fallen King.
Maegor, the younger son, stood still, his face a mask of sorrow and grim determination. Aenys, standing beside his half-brother, shared the grim look of loss.
Then, Maegor moved.
He walked toward the behemoth, his armor clanking softly on the stone. He didn't rush or shout; he simply began to sing a low, resonant song in High Valyrian—an ancient, soothing dragon song, the lyrics speaking of fire, blood, and the bond between rider and beast.
Balerion, who had been resting his massive head on the floor, seemingly exhausted by his long flight, immediately snapped his head up. His great yellow eye, the size of a shield, fixed on Maegor.
The great dragon shifted, his snout moving towards Maegor, recognizing the familiar Targaryen blood and the melody of their ancestral homeland.
Maegor approached, his hand outstretched, utterly fearless. He reached the massive head and gently, reverently, carressed Balerion's snout, the scales rough beneath his palm.
With the connection established, Maegor started the daunting climb up the dragon's massive foreleg and onto his back.
Once atop the saddle, he noticed several heavy items were strapped securely to Balerion's back and flanks. They were bulky, wrapped in oilskin, and secured with thick, tarred rope.
Maegor moved to the largest bundle and, with great effort, began to untie and unfurl the thick wrappings.
Carefully, he dropped the immense bundle to the ground of the Dragonpit. It landed with a heavy, thudding sound, announcing its weight and importance.
Maegor then descended, covered in soot and the scent of dragon. He went directly to his mother, Visenya, whose shoulders were still shaking with silent grief.
"Mother," Maegor said, his voice deep and steady, filled with resolve. "Father may have died in the ruins, but his death was not in vain. He did not return empty-handed. Our house can now grow more powerful with the things he sent from Valyria."
Visenya looked up, her severe features etched with pain, but the mention of power and legacy instantly reignited the Valyrian fire in her eyes. She gave a single, sharp nod.
With the burden of the lost King already turning to the promise of greater power, Visenya, Maegor, and Aenys left the Dragonpit, ordering a detail of servants to carefully take the retrieved objects to the Queen's chambers in the Red Keep.
The legacy of Aegon the Conqueror had returned, not in the form of a King, but in the form of lost, dark knowledge from the ruins of Valyria.