Chapter 9: The Silk Hand and the Iron Will (110-115 AC)
The years that followed the brutal humbling of House Lannister, from 107 to 109 AC, settled into a period of uneasy calm, a calm maintained by the omnipresent threat of Balerion and the chilling resolve of King Viserys I. The Royal Army continued to grow, its disciplined ranks a stark contrast to the disparate, often ill-trained levies of old. Barracks sprang up across the Crownlands, and the sight of royal banners, not house sigils, flying over newly constructed training grounds became increasingly common. The standardization of weights and measures, along with the improved communication network, subtly tightened the Crown's grip on the realm's economy and its flow of information. Westeros was, by all appearances, thriving under its new, efficient, and utterly ruthless king.
Harvests, boosted by Viserys's agricultural reforms, were consistently bountiful, leading to lower food prices and a more contented smallfolk. The burgeoning trade with Essos filled the Crown's coffers, allowing Viserys to fund his ambitious projects without resorting to crippling taxes on the lords. He preferred to squeeze them through other means. The new, centrally administered justice system, with its royal circuit judges, saw a decline in the overt abuse of power by minor lords, as they knew their decisions could now be swiftly overturned by a Crown loyalist.
Yet, Viserys, the former Marco De Luca, knew that true power was never absolute, and resentment, like a noxious weed, could grow in even the most fertile soil. The Great Houses, outwardly compliant, inwardly bristled at the erosion of their ancient privileges. They were lords of their lands, but increasingly, they felt like glorified stewards, their traditional autonomy chipped away by royal decree and silent pressure.
The resistance was not open rebellion, for the memory of Casterly Rock still lingered, a charred testament to Viserys's willingness to use Balerion without hesitation. Instead, it manifested as subtle stonewalling, passive aggression, and a quiet cultivation of local loyalties. Lords would drag their feet on implementing royal edicts, citing "logistical difficulties" or "ancient customs." They would lavish gifts and favors upon their sworn bannermen, subtly reinforcing their personal ties over any loyalty to the distant Iron Throne. Whispers of discontent, carefully muffled, would reach the Red Keep through Varys's network and Viserys's own trusted agents – tales of lords gathering unusually large retinues for hunts, of increased feasts and tourneys meant to impress, not entertain, and of marriages arranged more for strategic alliances between powerful houses than for love or royal approval.
Viserys met this subtle defiance with a silk hand wrapped around an iron fist. He rarely resorted to overt threats, preferring surgical strikes and strategic coercion. For lords who were slow to send their levy quotas, he would dispatch a personal message, delivered by one of his new, impeccably disciplined Royal Guards, a man whose presence alone suggested the Crown's unwavering vigilance. Often, Balerion would make a "routine patrol" over the offending lord's castle shortly thereafter, his shadow a silent, terrifying reminder. Compliance would invariably follow.
For lords who subtly undermined his trade policies by favoring their own merchants, Viserys would cut off royal contracts for their goods, or direct Crown-affiliated trade vessels to rival ports. The economic pressure was often more effective than threats of fire and blood. He fostered competition among the great houses, subtly playing them against each other, rewarding loyalty with lucrative Crown ventures, and punishing disloyalty with economic isolation.
He also utilized the burgeoning wealth of the Crown to buy loyalty. Lavish gifts, royal titles, and strategic appointments to the Small Council or lesser offices were offered to younger, more ambitious members of lesser houses, creating a new class of loyalists who owed everything to the King, not their traditional liege lords. This bred internal division within the powerful houses, making it harder for them to present a united front against the Crown.
The Dragon's Legacy: Aemon's Coming of Age
While Viserys navigated the complex political landscape, his focus remained intensely on his son and heir, Prince Aemon. Now a boy of ten and entering adolescence, Aemon was a keen observer, absorbing lessons from his father's relentless pursuit of power and his mother's shrewd counsel. He possessed his father's silver hair and mother's fierce violet eyes, but also a quiet thoughtfulness that often surprised those who expected a miniature version of the ruthless king.
Viserys's tutelage of Aemon intensified. He didn't just teach him to read and write; he taught him to dissect documents, to identify hidden agendas in pleas and reports. He didn't just teach him swordplay; he taught him logistics, the importance of supply lines, the psychological impact of troop movements, and the precise moment to strike. He would often take Aemon on his diplomatic flights, soaring above the realm on Balerion, pointing out geographical advantages, strategic strongholds, and the vulnerabilities of various regions.
> "Look, Aemon," Viserys would say, his voice carried by the wind as Balerion soared over the Neck, "the crannogmen may hide in their bogs, but without control of the causeway, they are isolated. Every land has a choke point, a weakness. A king must know them all."
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He introduced Aemon to basic principles of engineering and architecture, taking him to see the ongoing sanitation projects in King's Landing, explaining the flow of water and the strength of archways. He had maesters teach Aemon the principles of accounting and economics, far beyond what any other prince would learn, explaining the nuances of trade imbalances, inflation (though he called it 'the lessening of gold's worth'), and the accumulation of capital.
> "A rich Crown," Viserys impressed upon his son, "is a strong Crown. Gold is the sinews of war, and the lubricant of peace. Never forget that."
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Aemon was a quick study, his mind sharp and analytical, much like his father's. He asked insightful questions, often challenging Viserys with a thoughtful logic that made his father secretly proud. Yet, there was a difference. While Viserys possessed a pragmatic ruthlessness that was almost cold, Aemon showed glimpses of a more empathetic understanding of the smallfolk, a natural concern for justice that extended beyond mere royal decree. He questioned the absolute power, not in defiance, but in a search for its inherent fairness.
> "Father," Aemon once asked, after observing a circuit judge condemn a man for stealing bread, "if the Crown's justice is to be absolute, must it also be merciful? Is a well-fed populace not also a loyal one, even if they sometimes steal from hunger?"
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Viserys would ponder such questions, sometimes with a rare, almost unreadable expression. He appreciated the intellect, but he carefully guided Aemon toward a broader understanding of power. "Mercy has its place, Aemon, but it is a tool, not a weakness. It must be wielded wisely, to inspire loyalty, not to invite exploitation. A starving man may steal bread, but a desperate populace can overthrow a kingdom. Our duty is to ensure they are never desperate enough to choose that path." He taught Aemon that while the ultimate power must rest with the Crown, it was also the Crown's responsibility to ensure that power was applied effectively to maintain order and prosperity.
The most anticipated moment for any Targaryen prince was the bonding with their own dragon. For Aemon, this moment arrived in 115 AC, when he was just eleven years old, almost the same age Viserys had been when he first bonded with Balerion. This was no coincidence. Viserys had carefully monitored the Dragonmont, observing the behavior of the younger, riderless dragons. He had identified a vibrant, silver-scaled dragon with emerald eyes, known for its intelligence and speed, that had recently entered its prime. He named her Argentia, after the precious metal, symbolizing the wealth and prosperity he envisioned for his dynasty.
The ceremony was private, attended only by Viserys, Rhaenys, and a handful of trusted maesters and Dragonkeepers. Unlike Viserys's clandestine approach to Balerion, Aemon's bonding was a carefully orchestrated event, designed to reinforce the legitimacy of his claim and the power of his family.
Viserys spoke to Aemon beforehand, not just about the dangers, but about the profound connection that awaited him.
> "Remember, Aemon," Viserys advised, his voice serious, "a dragon chooses its rider as much as a rider chooses its dragon. You must approach with respect, with purpose, and with an open heart. But also with the understanding that you are a Targaryen. You carry the blood of Old Valyria. Command, but command with understanding."
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Aemon, dressed in traditional Targaryen riding leathers, approached Argentia's lair on Dragonstone. The young dragon, smaller than Balerion but still immense, regarded him with a wary, intelligent gaze. Aemon, following his father's counsel, spoke to her in High Valyrian, recounting the history of their shared blood, the glory of their house, and the future they would build together. He offered her a piece of freshly killed lamb, a gesture of respect and offering.
Argentia lowered her head, sniffing the air, her emerald eyes fixed on the boy. Then, slowly, she nudged him with her snout, a silent acceptance. Aemon reached out, placing his hand on her warm, silver scales. The connection was instantaneous and overwhelming, a rush of fire and ancient instinct flooding his young mind. Argentia let out a joyous, piercing shriek that reverberated through the Dragonmont, a sound of triumph and new allegiance.
When Aemon emerged from the Dragonmont, riding Argentia high above Dragonstone, the cheers of the small garrison and the Dragonkeepers echoed across the island. The sight of the young prince, a true dragonrider, solidified his place as the future of the dynasty. Viserys watched from a cliffside, a rare, almost imperceptible smile touching his lips. His legacy was not just secure; it was taking flight.
The coming of age of Prince Aemon and his bond with Argentia sent another powerful message across the Seven Kingdoms. The Targaryen line was strong, their dragons plentiful, and their future secured. The subtle resistance of the lords continued, but it was a quiet, simmering discontent, held in check by the crushing weight of royal power and the awe-inspiring reality of a realm being inexorably reshaped by the Dragon's Gambit.
I hope this chapter effectively continues your story, blending the broader political landscape with the personal development of Aemon.