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46. Maegor XXVI / Aenys XI
🕑 Added 2025-01-28 13:21:53 +0000 UTCHello everyone. I am so sorry for the delay on this chapter. I have been getting my ass handed to me in life right now. But it is finally here. Thank you all for your patience! I hope you enjoy it. Let me know your thoughts in the comments, too! Have a great day!
Maegor XXVI
4th Moon, 37AC
“You newcomers must leave! I did not permit your arrival to Lordsport, and neither did His Grace!” Goren Greyjoy roared, and I was reminded again how deeply I hated contentious debates, especially when I was involved in them. The conclave in Pentos could get a little rowdy now and again, but it never got to the point of screaming rage.
The same could not be said of Westeros. The nobility here were far more bellicose and much less placid than the Pentoshi elite, who could be swayed with gold and promises. Here in Westeros, the nobles were all stubborn and foolish, willing to fight for their perceived honor and prestige, an irritating quality when trying to find a peaceful solution.
“Leave? And abandon the faithful here to the wrath of your barbarity?! I think not. Your Grace, put this damnable heathen in his place,” the appointed commander of the Faithful forces in the Iron Islands, Ser Robert demanded.
I had luckily not had to interact much with the Faith of the Seven during my time in Westeros. They had a single, small sept on Dragonstone, with no Faith Militant garrison. So I did not hear much of them during my childhood. In King’s Landing, however, the situation was different.
King’s Landing was rapidly growing into a very large city. Pentos was still easily triple the size of King’s Landin,g and Oldtown was double the size, but the capital of Westeros grew larger year after year. With its increasing size, it continually attracted more and more members of the Faith. I hadn't had the time to check recently, but if my past knowledge proved correct, then there ought to be thousands of Poor Fellows within the city walls and hundreds of Warrior’s Sons.
They remained mostly content within the city during my father’s reign. Merely happy to protect the Sept of Remembrance, along with the few other smaller septs in the city, along with some other duties. They were useful in curbing crime, as they boosted the City Watch in their efforts to lightly police the populace. Yet the situation was different with my brother on the throne.
Many had already begun to test my brother before our father was even dead. Given the immediate rise of several rebellions and the likely brewing of several more. I imagine they found my brother exactly as weak and malleable as he actually was. Now it seemed the Faith intended to test my brother as well.
He had already made the betrothals public knowledge to the entire realm. So it was really only a matter of time before that pot boiled over. But it seemed that the Faith on the Iron Islands had more pressing matters. As Ser Robert had not brought up the betrothals.
I stared at Aenys as he looked deep in thought. He was the King of the Seven Kingdoms, so this was his problem not mine. I was here to guide him, to make sure that he did not get himself killed with his foolish ideas, but he had to be the one to solve this. If I solved all of his problems and then inevitably left when my realm called for me, Aenys would be fucked.
“Uhm…” Aenys began, and I fought an immense urge to sigh. He needed to project strength desperately. I had been trying to tell him while we spent a few days cleaning up Harrenhal. He has to appear strong. He does not have Balerion to back up his threats and intentions like our father did. He did not even need to be physically strong or threatening, but he had to at least appear decisive and confident.
“You are all breaking the King’s Peace. I did not permit any of you to take up arms,” Aenys said and suddenly my urge to sigh was momentarily dispelled. ‘Not a horrible start, aside from the uhm,’ I thought with a smile. It had been my and Aenys’s collective idea to arrange a meeting between the Faith and Lord Goren’s soldiers.
They were on the verge of outright battle when we arrived. Lord Goren’s forces had gathered outside of Lordsport and on the waves outside. Meanwhile, the Faith Militant within the city had armed many of the new converts and occupied the walls. Had Aenys and I not arrived when we did, Lord Goren might have tried to storm the city.
‘He is lucky we arrived,’ I thought with a deadpan stare toward the Lord of Pyke. The chapter of Warrior’s Sons at Lordsport was not super large, with it only numbering around 100 knights even after the new arrivals from the Westerlands. Yet even that relatively small number of knights could easily punch far above their weight.
Yet the seemingly inevitable bloodbath had yet to occur, nor would it if I had my way. Dealing with the Faith would have to come at a different time. One which would soon be approaching given our planned betrothals. But the first thing we had to do was end this rebellion before more arose because of it.
“Your Grace,” they both said, a hint of worry on both of their tongues.
‘Habit, or perhaps they fear the two dragons outside?’ I wondered to myself. Quicksilver and Terrax were not Balerion or Vhagar by any metric, yet each could easily level Lordsport and Pyke on their own, let alone together.
As they tried to speak over each other, I stared a hole into my brother’s head. He caught my piercing glare and cleared his throat to stop their irritating screeching.
“Ahem, Lord Goren. I would hear your words first,” he said in a regal-enough tone.
“Your Grace,” he began, bowing his head lightly before affixing Ser Robert with a glare. “These interlopers are not welcome here. We have allowed the septons and septas onto our islands as His Grace King Aegon demanded. But we were never forced nor convinced to allow the presence of additional Warrior’s Sons on the Iron Islands,” he said succinctly and calmly, much more calmly than I thought was possible for an Iron Islander.
‘Wait… this is the argument?’ I thought with interest. I had been expecting Lord Goren to be just as fanatical as Lodos Twice Drowned, demanding the expulsion of all of the Faith from the islands. But it seemed I was mistaken. Lord Goren simply wanted the new forces here to step down. Which was a reasonable request as far as I was concerned.
Unfortunately, it wasn’t my call. So, I patiently looked at my brother as he looked deep in thought. His next words would likely decide if we could deescalate this situation.
“Ser Robert?” Aenys asked next as he turned to face the fully armored knight.
The rainbow-caped knight also bowed his head lightly before speaking. Lighter than Lord Goren had done, but it was a minor thing. “Your Grace. Lord Goren Greyjoy has failed to protect the faithful on these fair isles. His heathen friend, the pretender Lodos…” Ser Robert began before Lord Goren exploded in rage.
“You dare!” he roared as he took to his feet and drew his sword, eliciting the same reaction from everyone in the room, including myself. Dark Sister sang as it left my sheath faster than every other sword in the room. I placed myself in a position to guard Aenys if need be, but I was mostly focused on potentially cutting down the most dangerous assailants if the situation demanded it.
I chanced, looking slightly at my brother with a single eye. I could not clearly make him out in my peripheral vision. But he seemed to be shaking slightly. ‘Oh gods, is he scared?’ I thought with a frown as I refocused my eyes on the potential combatants. Who had entered an uncomfortable standoff.
I sighed, as I knew that I would likely have to step in here. I sucked in a breath before yelling. “That is enough! Stay your swords!” I roared, getting the room back quiet as we all waited for Aenys to speak.
“Your Grace. This damnable knight has besmirched my honor. I would never betray you,” Lord Goren explained, but Aenys raised a hand to stop him.
“I understand, Lord Goren. I would hear Ser Robert’s words. So we may end this folly and deal with this pretender.” Aenys was being remarkably kingly, and I couldn't help but be a little impressed. I figured he would be terrified, and if he was, he was doing a pretty good job of hiding it.
The room looked wary but eventually swords were returned to their sheaths, including my beloved Dark Sister. Bodies moved back to their seats as Ser Robert cleared his voice.
“As I was saying, Your Grace. Lodos has run rampant on the island. Thousands of faithful on these fair isles have been killed and harassed. Septs have been burned, and septons hanged unjustly. Lord Goren was not acting to uphold the King’s Peace. So we took action as is our duty as the defenders of the faithful,” Ser Robert explained, and I could almost hear the teeth gnashing from Lord Goren.
“That does not explain your new recruits. Nor does it explain the several knights from the Westerlands and Reach that are here,” Aenys responded rather intelligently. ‘He’s doing well so far,’ I thought. Besides the near outbreak of fighting. He was handling this situation better than I had expected.
“The pretender has acquired substantial support from Lord Goren’s vassals, Your Grace. We needed extra support to properly defend the faithful,” Ser Robert coolly replied. He was not showing my brother all the respect he should, which wasn’t a good sign. But from what I knew regarding the faith, war was now essentially inevitable. We simply needed to use our time wisely.
Regarding this issue, at least, Aenys did a good job of properly centering the problem. Lord Goren wasn’t necessarily upset about the faithful on the island. Or at least he was sly enough not to push his luck. But he did want the newcomers gone.
“Hmm, very well then. I order you to stand down, and you shall not be punished for breaking the King’s Peace. Return to your septs, and the new arrivals must leave. Me and my brother shall handle the pretender and Lord Goren’s unfaithful vassals,” Aenys promised, and it seemed like Lord Goren’s interest had been piqued.
“Your Grace… how can we be sure of our security should we send away our reinforcements?” Ser Robert pressed and I realized just how much of a pain in the ass these people were. Endlessly complaining and entitled to hell and back.
“You have my word. Any who break the King’s Peace from this moment shall face the Dragon’s Wrath. Now, stand down,” Aenys ordered half-heartedly, staring at me all the while.
Ser Robert looked displeased behind his helm, but he stayed his sword and bowed toward my brother. I could not help but wonder how long the Faith would actually listen to my brother. The fact that Ser Robert was agreeing to stand down at all spoke volumes. I figured that he already knew about the betrothal of my nephew to his sister.
The Faith forces quickly exited the tent after that. We had all agreed to meet just outside the city walls under a flag of truce. Either way, Lord Goren was quick to dispatch his troops to regain control of the city walls.
As Aenys sat all pleased with himself, I made sure to pull Lord Goren aside, just outside of the tent. I would speak with this about my brother later, but I had to ensure that another situation like this did not arise.
“Prince Maegor?” he queried with a raised eyebrow as I pulled him aside, shooing off his guards.
“Expand your garrison within the city. I fear this is not the last time the Faith will stir up trouble,” I whispered, and he nodded knowingly, his demeanor quickly changing.
“Might you elaborate, Prince Maegor?” he queried once more, clearly hoping that I had more information to give.
“I am certain you got my brother’s letters. I doubt the Faith will take our return to tradition too well. Be prepared to be called upon by your king,” I whispered again and the Ironborn smiled wide. If I had to guess, he was imagining the possibility of expelling all members of the Faith of the Seven from the islands, like he had wanted to do from my memories.
“I will be, Prince Maegor.” Lord Goren bowed slightly before he moved away and made his way toward his soldiers, who were quickly moving to reoccupy the city.
I stood there and breathed a sigh of relief after that. I was prepared to kill all of my enemies and destroy the threats to my family, but it was relieving to know there were at least some loyal people. Well, maybe not loyal, but the enemy of my enemy is my friend was a saying for a reason.
It was then that my brother left the tent as well, basking in the little sunlight that peeked through the clouds. He quickly made to approach me, motioning for the guards Goren Greyjoy assigned to us to give him some space.
“I would say that went well,” Aenys said with an annoying smile as my peace and relative quiet were interrupted.
“Aside from when the entire room drew their swords, I would agree,” I said with an obvious stare toward Blackfyre. He had failed to even place a hand on its hilt, much less draw the blade to ensure he had some form of protection.
“O-oh… yeah,” my brother weakly replied before I sighed audibly. I was making my disappointment with my brother’s actions known to him in the hopes that it would help him shape up. We did not have a lot of time, unfortunately, so I had to work twice as hard as I wished.
“When we return to Dragonstone, you will be joining me in the yard. Your awareness is also pitiful, you need to pay more attention to the eyes and hands of the warriors around you,” I spoke the words on instinct before I realized just how much like my mother I sounded. I could have sworn that she said something similar to me when I was young.
“You sound like our father,” my brother sighed as we made our way back toward our dragons. Quicksilver and Terrax had been placed on the outskirts of the rapidly depleting Ironborn camp, and they had listened well in not moving.
“Do I?” I wondered as the memories of my father’s funeral resurfaced. It was hard to really evaluate my feelings toward that whole event. My mother and my family were devastated, and I did not blame them for it, but for the life of me, I could not really bring myself to care all that much.
I felt sad for their sake. For my mother who now had only my half uncle Orys and the elder Velaryons left as of age family, for my wife who had grown to appreciate my father’s apparent kindness while she was in asylum on Dragonstone, for my children who would never get to know their grandfather, and of course for my brother’s family, who loved him deeply. But I simply did not feel all that torn up about it.
He was gone, yet I had never really known him all that well. Sure, we spoke, even grew somewhat close during the year or two I spent in King’s Landing before my banishment. But it felt weird not really mourning someone I knew I ought to be.
My mother was essentially my sole parent in this world. From the moment I reawakened in this body to the present day. She was always there, there for me, for my wife, for my children. I just did not really feel any strong attachment to Aegon Targaryen. Not to mention that I had been preparing for his death for decades at this point.
I just hoped that my apparent nonchalance about the whole ordeal did not strain relations with my family. I could tell how deeply the loss weighed on many of them. On my brother and mother especially.
Aenys was, unsurprisingly, very dependent on our father. Given the early death of his mother and my own mother’s complete apathy toward him, it was only natural for him to latch onto our father hard. I could tell that it still weighed heavily on my brother, especially because he was not there to be with our father in his final moments. Yet it was not just him who was struggling with the loss.
My mother was certainly more surprising to me than my brother, even if her reaction probably shouldn’t have been. She was putting up a strong front for Shiera and my children, but I could tell that something was wrong. Decades spent trying to read my mother’s cold and quiet reactions to things had given me a sort of sixth sense regarding her. I could tell that she was hurting; she was simply too prideful to admit it.
“Yes, he would always try to advise me whenever I trained in the yard. The Kingsguard would, too, but I never really cared all that much for it,” Aenys said as his glance drifted down toward Blackfyre, which was dangling from his hip.
“Too bad. You are the King now, and you must know how to carry yourself at the very least,” I demanded as our dragons perked up as we drew nearer and nearer.
“So… what is the plan then?” Aenys asked as our dragons shook off their tiredness, sensing that we were about to fly into battle.
“We hit Old Wyk hard and fast. Torch the camp and the ships docked in the harbor, then Lord Goren’s vassals will handle the rest,” I said simply. It was ultimately a simple plan. But when dealing with fanatical idiots, sometimes the simplest plan was the best.
Lodos Twice Drowned was holed up on Old Wyk. Right on top of Nagga’s Bones. He had gathered his forces there, proclaiming that the drowned god would grant them victory. It made our job easier, especially when the rebellious vassals actually listened to the fool and gathered there. There was a force of around five thousand men on the island, which meant that Quicksilver and Terrax had some work to do.
We had already previously discussed our plans with Lord Goren. Who dispatched ravens to some of his more loyal vassals, who were already waiting on Great Wyk. The moment we arrived overhead and torched the fanatic’s fleet, they would swoop in and clean up the remains.
…
“Dracarys!” I yelled through my helm as Terrax made another swoop toward a bundle of ships. The Ironborn had clearly not learned from when my father had brought them to heel decades ago, as they bunched all their ships up in a single harbor, not that separating them would have helped all that much.
Dragons truly were just unfair when it came to naval battles. With this world’s technology, ships were all but helpless. Theoretically, they could use nets and harpoons to try and spear a younger dragon and drag them into the water, but going up against monsters like Terrax and Quicksilver, let alone Vhagar or Balerion. Even the formidable Braavosi ships were completely helpless.
Needless to say, Lodos’s fleet was quickly disintegrating under our combined assault. The longships were turning to cinders under the combined attack of green and white flame. I had been a little nervous to bring Aenys into his first battle, but he had performed acceptably so far.
‘His dives take too long,’ I thought with a tsk as I brought Terrax up again. The art of dragon combat was minimizing the amount of time you are near the ground, as that was when the rider was most vulnerable.
For the most part, dragonriders were remarkably safe on the back of their dragon. The combination of the rather high cruising altitude most dragonriders chose and the fast pace of flying made taking damage quite difficult. There were of course caveats, if the rider was stupid, if the dragon was particularly young and inexperienced, or if you happened to have pissed off the god of luck like my aunt had, the rider was at more risk than normal.
I had long since grown used to combat on the back of a dragon. I had fought in several wars and killed tens of thousands of people. Destroying a now quite small fleet docked in a harbor was easy. Yet, I could not help but feel concerned.
My brother was very green when it came to combat, almost hilariously so. I would have found it funny if it were not a window into a greater problem. There was an enormous war on the horizon and it seemed the only person even half way ready for it was myself.
I could, of course, count on my mother to fight if need be, but I would rather not if I could help it. She deserved a break more than anyone alive right now, and while I would not shy away from her help, mostly because I doubted I could afford to. Just her would be nowhere near sufficient to solve my problems.
Aenys’s family was weak, it was really that simple. Aenys’s first taste of real combat was literally happening at that very moment. Aegon had just bonded with Balerion less than a moon ago. Rhaena had also never seen combat, and her dragon was of a below average weight and size. Viserys and Jaehaerys would be too young for combat for years to come. Not to mention Alysanne, who was both an infant and lacked a dragon.
My family was not much better. I could of course fight, whether it be on the back of my dragon or with sword in hand, not to mention my mother likely had more combat experience than anyone else alive. But that was where the positives ended. Not only were all of my children years away from being combat ready, only Visenya had a dragon as of yet.
Just then, another burst of fire sprouted from Terrax's maw without a word from myself. I had descended into a bit of a flow state, allowing Terrax to largely handle the destruction of the fleet while I focused on other matters.
‘What to do,’ I thought with a frown. Ideally, I would like to school the currently war-ready dragon riders in combat as much as possible. Which meant bringing Aegon and Rhaena into the sky with their father to practice battle maneuvers and dives. But we were operating on a very light timetable. The war with the Faith could start at practically any minute, and I did not exactly have a good idea of how to teach them.
‘Not to mention problems out east,’ I thought with a deeper frown as Terrax annihilated the last of the longships docked in the harbor. From the little word I was hearing from Volantis, it sounded like they could also stir up trouble practically any minute.
I simply couldn’t afford to leave Pentos be if Volantis mobilized for war. Volantis’ holdings out populated my own by at least three times. My army would need dragon support, which meant leaning on my mother in all likelihood. That or abandoning my brother and his children in their time of need.
“How troublesome,” I spoke aloud as my brother led his dragon toward the island. The forces gathered at Nagga’s bones had dispersed, but they were still close enough to dispose of them in a few good passes.
I was facing the possibility of a two-front war. With very little dragon support. As of now, House Targaryen could only really count on Balerion, Vhagar, Terrax, and Quicksilver to handle a potentially multi-continent spanning war.
Yet Balerion was ridden by a completely green boy of just four and ten years. Vhagar was ridden by an old woman, and Quicksilver was ridden by a coward. In the future, House Targaryen would be able to rely on more dragon support, but unfortunately, we lived in the present.
“I will need to discuss this with Mother once we return,” I spoke to both Terrax and myself. I was loath to lean on her for support. As I wanted nothing more than for her to spend the rest of her days with her grandchildren, teaching them all she knows and living a relaxed life like she deserves, yet that option was looking less and less likely the more I thought about it.
At least until Aegon and Rhaena were trained and battle-ready, House Targaryen would need the last remaining conqueror to not check out, not yet at least. If she lived longer than her lifespan in the book I read, then perhaps she could properly retire once the faith is initially smashed. But for now, Vhagar needs to remain in play.
The stench of burning flesh quickly snapped me out of my thoughts. No matter how many people I killed with Terrax, that smell never really got easier to experience. The smell sort of grounded me, as I realized just what I was thinking about.
My children would fight on the backs of their dragons one day. It was not a prospect I was particularly fond of, yet it was one that I had to accept. I would do my best to subdue my territories and help my brother and his children subdue Westeros. But war was endemic to this world, and I was certain that one day, Vermithor would carry my daughter into battle, and my son would ravage Essos with Vhagar in the future.
‘At least I can ensure they are ready,’ I thought as I brought Terrax down for another swoop. The wet grass the terrified soldiers were fleeing on turned to ash and smoke under the relentless assault of dragonflame. If my children could at least be prepared, I could sleep a little more soundly.
I had long since been bringing both Daeron and Baelon into the saddle with me. Showing them the simple stuff like tugging the reins to move Terrax in different directions. Along with making them take notes on the proper way to treat and care for your dragon, but as they aged. I would need to redouble my efforts.
With any luck, Baelon’s egg would hatch in the hatcheries on Dragonstone. The damnable egg refused to hatch in Essos, so we placed it back in the hatcheries, hoping the magical volcanic vents of Dragonstone could coax the little beast out. If my suspicions held true of the dragon inside that egg, then acquiring the dragon inside would be a huge boon.
Not to mention that my daughter Daenys was due for an egg, too. I would have to pick one out once I returned to Dragonstone, assuming my mother and wife had not done so while I was away. Getting potentially two more dragons to add to my family, ones that would not be potentially leaving when it came time for their rider to marry, was something I had to think about now.
I would eventually need to have a proper discussion with my brother and his children about the future of the different dragon eggs. Given the rapidly expanding nature of our current family, we would have to regulate who gets eggs eventually. But for now, I would happily abuse the basically zero rules we had in place.
Just as I was happy to finally be done with the annoyance of this battle. I noticed my brother signaling me from atop Quicksilver as I cleaned up a few stragglers. Which meant that he noticed their complete destruction just as I had. I returned the signal, pointing to a more distant hill which we could land on.
We would spend the next fortnight on the Iron Islands. It helped ensure peace between the Faith and the Ironborn, along with the punishment of Goren’s disloyal vassals, who were wise enough not to join the funeral pyre. But after that, it would be time to return to Dragonstone.
__________________________________________________________________________
Aenys XI
5th Moon, 37AC
The sight of the synchronized landing of five dragons must have been a marvelous one for the inhabitants of Oldtown. Aenys relished in the sight himself, five war-ready dragons, laden with all of House Targaryen, ready to attend his anointing as King of the Seven Kingdoms.
Aenys was de facto the King already, and he had been so for just over a moon’s time. But it was time for him to make it official in the eyes of all the people of Westeros. Just as his father had done, he would kneel before the High Septon and be anointed as the King of all Westeros. The excitement of the grand event was almost enough for Aenys to forget his problems, almost.
Aenys had dearly hoped that his return to Dragonstone would be a triumphant one. He was not entirely wrong in that hope, as there was much fanfare and celebrations to be had for his first successful campaign. A grand banquet and feast with all the houses of Blackwater Bay. But it was heavily overshadowed by the troubles brewing within his family.
Aenys turned his head left to spot the mountainous figure of Balerion, still restless even having finally landed. They had to deliberately place Balerion as far from Dreamfyre as possible for their flight, and that seemed to be a microcosm of all Aenys’s current troubles.
‘ARGH!’ Aenys thought, balling his hands into fists. ‘Why did this have to happen now!?’ he thought with an anger he had not shown in years. Right after his father died, right when the realm was the least stable it had ever been since the conquest, it was at that exact moment that his children decided to act like fools.
Aegon had continued his childish indignation since Aenys returned from his campaign. He had been hoping that his son would be intelligent enough to realize the errors of his ways, but Aenys was mistaken. It seemed as if his son had made it his personal mission to distract Aenys as much as was humanly possible.
From skipping meals, to refusing to sit next to his sister and betrothed, to dancing with other women at the banquet he hosted for his victory over the bastard and the pretender, and worst of all, just before they left, when Balerion hissed at Rhaena as they made their way toward their dragons.
It all made Aenys wish to pull his hair right out of his head. How had it gotten so bad? He wondered countless times. Interrogating his wife left him with nothing but disappointment. Aegon shrugged off her every attempt to reprimand him, and it was not like Aenys could blame her for that.
Even Aenys’s efforts were met with little success. He managed to at least get his indignant son to start attending family meals again, along with making public appearances beside him at court. But he could not convince his foolish son to grow up and forgive his sister.
He continued to spurn her at public events, going so far as to ask several of Aenys’s vassal’s daughters for dances openly while spurning his sister, which only made Aenys’s job harder. As he had to dispel the questions and whispers that were spawned from his son’s indignant, foolish, and childish petulance.
“Darling, I believe it is time to dismount,” Aenys heard his wife whisper from behind him and Aenys was snapped back into reality, noticing that the rest of his family had already dismounted. “Right right,” he responded, unlatching himself and his wife from the saddle of his beloved Quicksilver.
Aenys climbed down the ropes first before helping his wife make the same descent. Quicksilver was nowhere near as tall as Vhagar or Balerion, so the climb was not too bad, even laden with two young children.
The flying arrangements were made easier by the inclusion of Balerion, even if Aenys felt the urge to demand that his son leave the Black Dread in the Dragonpit. Viserys rode with his brother on Balerion. Vhagar carried his aunt Visenya, along with his nephews Daeron and Baelon, then Terrax carried Maegor and Shiera, along with their two daughters. Then, Quicksilver brought himself, his wife, and his two youngest. Finally, Dreamfyre carried his eldest daughter.
Aenys’s problems were made all the clearer by the sight he beheld as he stepped onto the grassy fields outside of Oldtown. House Targaryen had largely been split into two groups just beyond the dragons. In one group stood his younger brother, his sons Aegon and Viserys, along with his nephews. In the other group stood his aunt, his goodsister, along with his daughter and nieces. Aenys sighed internally, as he knew he would have to bring them together.
The most troublesome part of it all was, of course, Aegon and Rhaena. Thankfully, Maegor’s family showed shockingly little interest in their childish spat and merely continued on as if nothing had changed. This opened the door for Aenys to fix things, but he had to do it fast. Before the rest of his family began to split along the seams.
Aenys moved quickly to bring the two conversations together. He had let them wait far too long as it was. It was high time for him to be anointed and for the celebrations to begin. Aenys dearly hoped that some time away from Dragonstone might bring his son and daughter to their senses.
…
Aenys breathed deeply as the old man placed the silver and gold crown Aenys had brought on his head. His father had done this with his Valyrian Steel Crown of course, but Aenys could not bring himself to wear it.
Aenys was not his father, and he could not help but feel strange about wearing the Valyrian Steel circlet that had adorned his father’s head for the better part of thirty years. Instead, he would wear his own crown. It was plenty beautiful and ornate as it was. It was not Valyrian Steel, but gold and silver were plenty regal enough.
He had discussed the possibility of getting a new crown with his brother. Who was also planning his own proper coronation back east. Aenys was a little wary of that, knowing the message it would undoubtedly send, but it was beyond his control. His brother would crown himself eventually, it was only a matter of time.
Aenys mentally shook his head then, trying to dispel the dour thoughts as best he could. It was a time for celebration, he was finally blessed and crowned by the High Septon, which meant that he was well and truly the King of the Seven Kingdoms.
Ideally, he would have done this two moons ago, mere days after the death of his father, to prevent any potential problems. But he was called away to deal with the troublesome bastard and the pretender. But now it was all solved, the realm was at peace, and he was now officially the King of the Seven Kingdoms.
“All rise for King Aenys of the House Targaryen, first of his name! King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men! Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm!” the High Septon roared, revealing that he could be quite loud when prompted, and the entire chamber erupted in applause.
As Aenys stood from his kneeling position and welcomed the praise. He had never imagined this day would actually come, but now that it was here, he could not help but relish in it. He could not help but be a little excited for what was to come. He did not have enormous plans to shake up the foundations of the world, but he was already planning his first progress as King. He was thinking a tour through the Riverlands and Crownlands, the same path his father took, would be an excellent start.
As he signaled for the crowds to disperse and begin mingling, he was approached by both his brother and the High Septon.
“Congratulations, Your Grace,” Maegor said with a stern look. His brother had tried to lecture him on his kingly duties for the last half sennight. As if Aenys were a mere boy, unready and incapable. It was laughable, he may not feel very prepared but he had shadowed his father for the better part of thirty years, all he needed to do was emulate his father, and all would be well.
“Thank you, Brother. But I would have you refer to me as Aenys or brother. I do not wish for us to be formal with each other,” Aenys said with words despite already knowing his brother would never actually commit to calling him by his title. They were to be equals eventually anyway, not to mention they were family.
“Now then, perhaps we should depart for my manse in the city? I told the staff to prepare an extravagant banquet. I hope that you will attend, Your High Holiness,” Aenys began speaking with his brother, but he finally decided he needed to acknowledge the head of the faith, who was patiently waiting for his turn to speak.
“I would be honored, Your Grace. But first, might you grace me with a private conversation? There are matters I wish to discuss with you,” the High Septon asked kindly and respectfully. The High Septon was old, having achieved his current position decades ago, so Aenys had plenty of experience dealing with him, so his respectful tone was a familiar one.
His father always made an effort to meet with the High Septon during his progresses in the Reach. Aenys was rarely clued into their conversations, but the High Septon was always respectful and kind with him. It was relieving to see that nothing had changed.
“Your High Holiness. If you do not mind me asking, what might these matters entail?” Maegor asked with a poised look on his face. Aenys was suddenly reminded of his brother’s paranoia regarding the faith.
Even going back to when he was just ten name days old. Maegor had always been suspicious of the faith. Aenys could hardly understand why. They had been nothing but supportive of their father in all of his efforts. Even collaborating with him on several laws like the Rule of Six. Yet Maegor seemed to have been poisoned by Visenya in that regard. As he never ceased to be suspicious of them, no matter how much Aenys tried to tell his brother that they were loyal and good.
“Apologies, my prince, but these are matters of the Seven Kingdoms. Sharing them freely will lead to naught but trouble,” the High Septon said with a blank expression. It was then that Aenys was also reminded that this was the same High Septon who was the uncle of one Ceryse Hightower.
‘Better to end this standoff before it can properly begin,’ Aenys thought as he coughed into his hand, ending the staredown between his younger brother and the elderly High Septon.
“Ahem, Brother, the High Septon has requested a private audience with me. I shall oblige him,” Aenys said in his regal tone. He had been working on it more and more over the last half moon. Ever since his journey to the Iron Islands, he realized he had to be more authoritative in the way he spoke.
Maegor looked wary for a moment, giving Aenys a concerned glance before he sighed and backed away, moving to reunite with his wife and children. Aenys meanwhile signaled for his Kingsguard, who had left a full moon in advance so they could attend, to follow him and the High Septon into a deeper part of the Starry Sept.
They passed through the crowds assembled to witness his crowning. They were a mixture of Reach Lords and holy men. The short notice Aenys had given meant that most nobles were not able to make the trip in time. Aenys resolved to make it up to them on his next progress. The coffers were full, after all. He had plenty of gold to spend.
Aenys was a little confused when he was led into the crypts beneath the Starry Sept. ‘For what reason do we need this much privacy?’ Aenys wondered as the light began to dim, being replaced by torchlight.
The Kingsguard were similarly confused, as Aenys noticed his two guards, Lord Commander Corlys and Ser Humfrey, tensing in their armor. He had been working hard to increase his awareness over the last half moon. Another thing his brother had harped endlessly about once they returned from the Iron Islands. He was still not quite good enough to properly predict when a warrior would draw their sword. But he was getting better.
He was good enough to notice the Warrior's Sons that followed the High Septon tense similarly to his guards. Aenys was tempted to place his own hand on Blackfyre, but suddenly, the High Septon stopped. Turning around to face Aenys in the dim light.
“I apologize for the secrecy, Your Grace. But we have matters of great importance to discuss,” the High Septon said with a distinctly… different tone.
“It is of no concern, Your High Holiness. Now then, what might you wish to discuss?” Aenys asked as the Warrior's Sons and his Kingsguard dispersed, moving to the walls of the crypt.
“It is about your recent letters to the realm…” he began, and Aenys suddenly got a horrible feeling in his gut.
“I must implore you, Your Grace. The betrothal between Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaena cannot stand.” The High Septon spoke the words that Aenys was dreading. He had already been beggared by zealots on Dragonstone twice in the days before leaving for Oldtown. Now, he had to deal with the same concerns here.
“Why is that, Your High Holiness?” Aenys said with a tone of disinterest. He had undoubtedly heard this argument before. So he would just have to play it out, just as he had before.
“It is a sin, Your Grace. Surely you know that,” the High Septon said without a hint of humor or any other emotion in his voice. He spoke as if he were speaking to a child.
“It is a tradition my family has held for five thousand years, Your High Holiness,” Aenys responded simply. He could understand how the foolish zealots he had to deal with on Dragonstone could not fathom it, but surely the High Septon could wrap his head around the notion.
“Yet it is still a sin, Your Grace. A sin that our Faith cannot abide by,” the High Septon said with a glare. Aenys was shocked by it, as he looked almost scary in the dim light of the crypts.
“But you have before. Was my father not married to both of his sisters? Am I not a product of that match?” Aenys challenged. If the High Septon wished to debate the validity of an incestuous match with him, Aenys could play.
“King Aegon was a special case, King Aenys. He was blessed by the Seven and led to victory and conquest. His sins were overlooked, yet even he repented. Just look at your and your brother’s marriage. You both married different houses, even if your brother chose a far less worthy match than your father prepared for you,” the High Septon continued, and Aenys felt the rare instance of rage begin to bubble in his chest. The audacity of this old man was starting to get on Aenys’s nerves.
“We did not have sisters to marry, Your High Holiness. Nor cousins, nor aunts, nor nieces…” Aenys began before he was cut off.
“Was your brother not almost betrothed to your daughter? Yet your father realized the folly in such a match; guided by the seven, he ended such notions and found him a proper match. Am I mistaken?” the High Septon challenged, and Aenys was regretting not bringing his brother with him. His brother could dismantle this old fool if he wished, but Aenys meanwhile was forced to speak on his behalf.
“I decided against that match, Your High Holiness. My daughter is the first grandchild born to Aegon the Conqueror. She was born to be a queen,” Aenys responded simply. It was the most concise answer he could give, and even if it was not totally true, it was mostly true.
“If she was born to be a queen, then you ought to have stopped having children, Your Grace. As her brother would have always supplanted her,” the High Septon spoke once more as if he were speaking to a child. It was starting to really irritate Aenys.
“She will wed her brother on Aegon’s fifth and tenth name-day. Just as I was wed to my wife Alyssa once I turned five and ten. Then she will be Queen once I finish my reign,” Aenys spoke clearly and concisely, leaving no room for doubt.
“Your Grace… you must reconsider. The Faith cannot accept such an unholy union. Her children would be abominations, and the match would be cursed to fail. Can you not see it already happening?” the High Septon asked, and Aenys’s blood began to burn a little bit hotter.
‘Damn fool,’ Aenys thought, recalling all the times his son publicly snubbed his sister in the last two moons. Aenys had done his best to stop the rumors floating about the castle, but it seemed they had already escaped to the realm at large. He resolved to punish his son after he finished speaking with the High Septon. He could allow for no more whispers to spread.
“Do not speak of whispers and rumors with me, Your High Holiness,” Aenys said with a glare. Few things got him truly mad, but besmirching his children was one of them.
“Rumors?” The High Septon looked incredulous. “Your Grace, it is plain to see. Prince Aegon can see the wisdom in my words. It is clear with his actions. Even you must see the truth, your other betrothals are acceptable within the eyes of the gods. Why must you undo all the good work your father had done?” The High Septon continued spouting his drivel, annoying Aenys more and more.
“Because my daughter is the most acceptable match for my son,” Aenys offered simply, a ferocious bite to his tone. He regretted it immediately, however, as he noticed the Warrior Son’s all placed hands on their swords.
Aenys grew wary then. Had his brother been right all along? Was the Faith to be feared? Aenys noticed his Kingsguard escort also put their hands on the hilts of their swords, but Aenys refrained from placing a hand on Blackfyre just yet. The last thing he needed to do was harm the High Septon. He would simply have to lead the irritating fool on.
“Most acceptable? Your Grace, there are so many potential options. Surely it would be better to pursue them than tempt the wrath of the Seven,” the High Septon continued as if he had Aenys right where he wanted him.
“Very well, Your High Holiness. Might you enlighten me on some of these potential options?” Aenys decided to play along for now. He would have to discuss ways to convince this stubborn old fool with his advisors later. But for now, he would try to stomach this discussion.
“I believe houses Tully, Tyrell, and Lannister all have eligible daughters. Not to mention Houses Velaryon and even Prince Maegor’s family. Any one of those options would not anger the gods, and the Faith would give their full backing,” the High Septon promised, and Aenys narrowed his eyes. He was green when it came to truly assessing his surroundings, but even he could tell that he was in a bad position. He needed to get out of these crypts and back to Dragonstone sooner rather than later.
“You bring up fine points, Your High Holiness. I will discuss these options with my Small Council and other advisors upon my return to Dragonstone. You have my word,” Aenys promised. He did not even have to lie, as he had full intentions of discussing these events with all of his advisors upon his return to Dragonstone.
“I am glad you could see reason, Your Grace. May the seven bless whichever match you choose,” the High Septon said with a light nod as the Warrior’s Sons returned to a relaxed stance.
Aenys nodded along, desperate to get out of the crypts. He turned on his heel and made his way back toward the surface. He needed to speak with his brother, his wife, his aunt, everyone about this turn of events. He needed to find a way to convince the High Septon. He had been ambushed with this question, but he would be far more prepared to argue for the validity of his chosen match after receiving the advice of his family and Small Council.
Comments
Morel
Harrenhal sits on extremely productive land. Plus it is an enormous castle. Idk if Baelon will want it but Visenya might. Ultimately it is Shiera's to do with what she pleases. She could even give it to one of Aenys's children if she wanted to. Casterly Rock is too valuable to give to a branch family. They'd be wealthier than the monarchs of the Kingdom proper. Oldtown might just find itself home to a branch of House Targaryen in the future. Maegor has to be careful with what he warns Aenys about. He has a rough idea of what rebellions are about to happen but if he randomly knows where every problem is going to come up, that'll look very weird and his family will ask him questions he cannot answer. So he wanted to warn his brother about what he could (Dorne and Iron Islands) while keeping some other stuff to himself. Who knows, some stuff might actually get butterflied.
Lord Enot
It's weird, I just don't get it, why would any of Maegor's kids want Harrenhal? I mean, they literally have everything even better, but in Essos where most of the family is. Or is the SI going to give the castle to Viserys and Visenya in the future (although I was hoping they'd be given Casterly Rock or Oldtown after the rebellion). And actually it's a strange idea of SI to suggest to Aenis in the past chapters to start preparing for wars with Dorn when the rebellions are about to start(or has SI completely forgotten the incidents from the past life already?).
Morel
Shiera and Visenya are both clued in to Maegor's current worries. Including the current family troubles. But idk why you think that Maegor can defuse the Aegon/Rhaena situation alone lol. That is a clusterfuck. He might be able to calm Aegon to a certain extent but what Aegon does is up to him.
Zenokya
Second comment sorry about that, I am pretty sure that the whole Aegon/Rhaena situation will defuse once Maegor take the time to explain why they marry, why they will not break the bethrotal and clear up the confusion/hurt of this whole mess. Clearly Aenys and Alyssa can’t be trusted with an hamster let alone their own kid. Did Maegor at least told his wife of his suspicions about volantis/faith ?
